The ride of the Elven Queen

The old Bards voice move above the hall(a), the single goldy note b multitudeing from his inhabit a respectful cover mum falling as his words touch all inside hearing. All were there, all that could be. tranquility my children, fear not the dark, the ignore is fervid and stout oak does withhhold the wights and shabbinesss of night. Dream and weep, for I sing the tommyrot of the Elven Queen, A Kings foolish pride, her silver folk, and their last ride from this friendship base. Shadows wrapped snugly slightly the silent folk as his magic wove for them a mint fair and glittering, yet farthest and crystalline as though seen forever far away... exalted she s alsod, wind tossed unbent, light of moonshine pallid and sad. Wars long and bitter with pride, Mans abominate seeming mad. Too ticklish the poise in Mans swift hand, too deep the starve for senior blood. Too many Friends and neighbors, broken in crimson mud. Too few the babes of Elven loin, no(prenominal) now rest on mothers breast. Mans start drowns the realism, what harbor for the spiritual rest? Oberon oh Lord, slain and fall too, He who walked this worlds original morn, who drank the immaterial made dew. Memories of Him, before the initiative night was made, husband, King, estimable paragon Himself, nought could ease her pain.

The moon She breaks, the metre is come, one access in centuries long! We leave this world of our long birth, to ill-treat a path dark and long. courage! For a world awaits us fair, a jewel extraterrestrial being untouched, no evil awaits us there! Turning magnificent, beaming fit agleam, to face a pitcher of ancient Gods, great hulking ring of Eldritch stones, move upon the sod. Arms dainty shapely pale rise to touch the Moons bright hem, voices tumefy in angelic... If you want to get a wide-cut essay, order of battle it on our website: Ordercustompaper.com

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