Latter cycles of Earth
Beneath the dimming sun
Necromancers driven forth
to the d**hly sands of Cincor . . .
The sorcerors Sodosma and Mmatmuor
performed the abomidable rites
compelled the dead to arise . . .
Creaking bones rise mournfully
to serve their master's desires
Numerous tombs and necropoli
they raised to perform their wills.
Skeleton slaves break coffin doors
Tyrannous incantations
Raise past Emperors of Cincor
Plague-eaten corpses now toil in inexhaustible vaults
for cobweb-blackened gold and gems of ancient time.
Empresses with golden hair
untarnished from the night of the tomb,
the plague and the worm had not ravaged overmuch,
serve their necrophilic lust . . .
Actions of life at the will of their Lords
Their blood ran chill with the waters of Lethe,
longing to return to interrupted sleep . . .
A vague stirring of revolt
against this mockery of life.
(while the) Necromancers wallowed in glutton.
Hestaiyon, undead king, then found in the nether vaults,
the sword and key of prophecy.
He struck off the heads of the sorcerors
and cursed them with spells.
Undead marched to the nethermost vault,
beyond the door,
where sunken fires of Earth still burned,
and flung themselves to a second d**h
in the clean bottomless flames . . .