O, radiant muse, with head unbowed, and
Golden tresses furling in the wind, sing
Your lovely song. Seduce with pregnant words
The myriad folk of these fair realms –
Besieged by the dead – or undead rather,
Whose rotted flesh and villainous power
Utter ruin would wreak upon us all,
But for the work of those heroes bold, who,
Clad in shining armor, shields, and wielding
Dire arms lay down their life rather than
Be slaves to tyranny. And, when slain, to
Spite the greatest demonic magic, rise
Again by grace of gods, for their valiant
Service uncorrupt, not yet to dwell in
Loathsome death, but through their faith live free!
​
But not all heroes by holy light perform
Their deeds, but some in shadows work, where no
Less than their shinning counterparts slay those
Who would free souls enslave, for freedom is
Precious not only to those who love the
Law, but to every sentient mind that
Feels and chooses. Such dark powers that
Against tyranny fight with every breath,
Praise too, timeless muse, and let not their hidden
Labors pass unsung, for by their fury
And dark rage are lives of many preserved,
And many horrid monsters into the
Void cast forever.
​
O muse divine! Whose radiant eyes
Into the truth of things pierce, and piercing,
Know, inspire these adventurers to
Great deeds that one day may echo in
Epic verse through the halls of time!
And when our age comes to pass, let us in
Happiness learn the truth: that our infinite,
Beautiful, and myriad paths, though wracked
With pain and sorrow, love and joy, share one
Destination, bound together for a
Short time, and then, perhaps, for all time,
Or for none.