Something hidden, something lost
Something buried below the frost
The frozen ground, hard as stone
Does not care to keep its own
The one who stays does not come
Anymore to see the sun
But under cover of the night
Seeking justice for his plight
To speak once more of strength of old
To have his honor and story told
Mournful wailing, chilling, airy
But none to hear from dale to aerie
Though lord of loc and tract as he
None can escape their destiny
Mighty and bold he conquered all
Until at last Death came to call
Against dragon flame, undevoured
His castle in vigilance towered
Though sword arm and wits were keen
Still a poison dart found his spleen
Of treachery and justice he would tell
Yet it matters not, for he still fell
And the luscious fertile ground
Piled high to make his mound
His heir, his son
His slayer, all one
For a kingdom he yearned
His impatient heart burned
From prince to king overnight
Till actions at last came to light
No loyalty gifted to faithless
His reward, grave marked nameless
Then subjects were broken, despoiled
Of benefits for which old king toiled
Then fear and hate became their master
And their destruction came all the faster
Then even the earth, sun and weather
Turned their attention on somewhere better
The timbers rotten, the stones torn down
The rain made level again the ground
Then tomb of king in land forgotten
His bones, flesh and clothes all rotten
Three thousand years he has kept this place
Last of his kingdom, without a trace
So as the dawn drags him below
He wails again and grasps the snow
And gone again, his story lost
Unheard, unspoken, below the frost
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