Hordes Of Yore - A Destiny Wrought in Infamy (an Ill Empire Cannot Stand) Тексты

Few'd have guessed such quaint allegiance,
side by side Roman and Goth
Once cruel foes, now bound as brethren
Such the twist their fate has wrought

A Destiny Emblazoned
Now unravels near its end

Perched upon the hills of Chalons
Aetius' troops prepare for war
Their number pales next to the splendour
Of Caesar's Proud legions of yore

Few they seem
Against their foe
- horsemen counting
thousands strong-
Neath the banner
of Attila,
gathers fierce
and mighty throng
Hordes of Franks
ride with the steppesmen
Rending havoc
Throughout Gaul
"The Scourge of God",
A wolf Amok
Makes a feast
On poor sheep's souls

Rome's sweetmeats
Ripe for the taking
(an ill Empire
Cannot stand)
Twixt such fate
Stood strong Aetius
Of Rome's Dead Kin
The finest man

Last seed of a nation's Splendour
whose stones stood on fratricide,
Aetius Thwarts Rome's foreseen Ruin
Driving off Barbarian tide

The Huns charge uphill
Deep into roman ranks

The Gothic Allies
Flail deep Attila's flanks

Fate smiles to Rome
The field is theirs this day

The battle turned
The Huns driven away

Such carnage wrought
On the field rot man and horse

Among those to mourn
Lies Theoderic's shattered corpse

To the old gods
Prayed Aetius
(for such a grace
renewed his faith)
By his hand
an Empire saved
-at least reprieved-
of grim fate
But such is rome
fhat an emperor
quite less grateful
than one'd think
Paid his deed
With a stabwound
Thus in infamy
Rome would sink

As throughout its history
Rome ate its own kin.
As their last spark of Honor
Fell neath grievous sin
Their destiny emblazoned
Now moves towards its end:
From the East countless hordes
Upon Rome Descend...