Desolate is the dwelling of Morna

Desolate is the dwelling of Moina,

silence is in the house of her fathers.

Raise the song of mourning, o bards!

over the land of strangers.

They have but fallen before us:

for one day we must fall.

[Why dost thou build the hall,

son of the winged days?

Thou lookest from thy towers to-day:]

yet a few years, and the blast of the desert comes;

it howles in thy empty court,

and whistles round thy half-worn shield.

And let the blast of the desert come!

We shall be renowned in our day!

The mark of my arm shall be in battle;

my name in the song of bards.