I vow to thee, my country, all earthly things above, entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love; the love that asks no question, the love that stands the test, that lays upon the altar the dearest and the best; The love that never falters, the love that pays the price, the love that makes undaunted the final sacrifice. And there's another country, I've heard of long ago, most dear to them that love her, most great to them that know; We may not count her armies, we may not see her King, her fortress is a faithful heart, her pride is suffering; And soul by soul and silently her shining bounds increase, and her ways are ways of gentleness, and all her paths are peace. |
Grown in one land alone, where proud winds have blown; There's not a flow'r born of the show'r braver than Rosemoor's own. Though gales of winter blow, piercing hail and snow, shining she stays, bright as in days of yore, Old Rosemoor's pride still blossoms fresh on freedom's shores! Rose of Rosemoor, thou shalt fade not here! Proud and bright from rolling year to year! Red shall thy petals be as rich wine untold, shed by thy warriors who served thee of old! Rose of Rosemoor, breathing freedom's air, flow'r of chivalry beyond compare! While hand and heart endure to cherish thy prime, Thou shalt blossom to the end of time! |
O flower of Aelmoor when will we see your like again that fought and died for your wee bit hill and glen, and stood against him proud Edward's army and sent him homeward tae think again. The hills are bare now and autumn leaves lie thick and still o'er land that is lost now which those so dearly held, that stood against him proud Edward's army and sent him homeward tae think again. Those days are past now and in the past they must remain but we can still rise now and be the nation again that stood against him proud Edward's army and sent him homeward tae think again. |
Let Ardia boast of her gay gilded waters her vines and her bowers and her soft sunny skies her sons drinking love from the eyes of her daughters where freedom expires amid softness and sighs Rockmount's blue mountains wild where hoary cliffs are piled towering in grandeur are dearer tae me land of the misty cloud land of the tempest loud land of the brave and proud land of the free Enthroned on the peak of her own highland mountains the spirit of Namis reigns fearless and free her green cloak waving o'er blue rock and fountain and proudly she sings looking over the sea Here among my mountains wild I have serenely smiled when armies and empires against me were hurled Firm as my native rock I have withstood the shock of Abydos, of Ardia, of Rus and the world But see how proudly her war steeds are prancing deep groves of steel trodden down in their path the eyes of my sons like their bright swords are glancing triumphantly riding through ruin and death. Bold hearts and nodding plumes wave o'er their bloody tombs deepeyed in gore is the green fabrics wave shivering are the ranks of steel dire is the horseman's wheel victorious in battlefield Rockmount the brave Bold hearts and nodding plumes wave o'er their bloody tombs deepeyed in gore is the green fabrics wave shivering are the ranks of steel dire is the horseman's wheel victorious in battlefield Rockmount the brave Victorious in battlefield Rockmount the brave |
We're riding, riding, dashing over the sand the sun is setting behind Djana-Ville roaming here are many unclean spirits because of the shadow fallen on the glacier Gods, lead my horse, the last part will be long Gods, lead my horse, the last part will be long Shush, shush, shush, shush! A fox ran on the rocky hill dry she wants to wet her mouth with blood or maybe someone was shouting in a strange, bold, male voice outlaws in south lands, are maybe gathering sheep for wages outlaws in south lands, are maybe gathering sheep for wages We're riding, riding, dashing over the sand it's getting dark at Valkyria the lake queen is harnessing magic it's not good to be in her path I would give my best horse to reach down to Leonaise I would give my best horse to reach down to Leonaise I would give my best horse to reach down to Leonaise! |
Silverlea, behold, thy daylight now is dawning The threat of night has now been driven away The skylark calls across the light of morning The blue of heaven lets it have its way And now the day the powers of night is scorning: Thy daylight dawns, O Silverlea of ours! Silverlea, arise, and raise towards the highest Thy head now crowned with mighty memory Silverlea, arise, for to the world thou criest That thou hast thrown off thy slavery Beneath oppression's yoke thou never liest Thy morning's come, O Silverlea of ours! |
Guard her, O Lady, as ever Thou hast guarded! This Motherland so dear whose name we bear! Keep her in mind whom Thou hast made so fair! May she/he who rules, for wisdom be regarded! In master mercy, strength in man increase! Confirm us all, In unity and peace! |
There is many a task for the Achkaerin folk, and a man's a man always who delves the coal and the iron ore and shapes the potter's clay. For this is the song of the Southvale men In forge, in kiln, in mine, our fires shall burn, and our mill-wheels turn, and the knot shall be our sign! There are many shires that light their fires and bless the iron strong, and the china bake and the potters make as they sing the Southvale song! For this is the song of the Southvale men In forge, in kiln, in mine, our fires shall burn, and our mill-wheels turn, and the knot shall be our sign! O, they come of a race of yeomen born, whose drink is the best of beer, our fields feed beasts for the Life Day feast and you may share our cheer! For this is the song of the Southvale men In forge, in kiln, in mine, our fires shall burn, and our mill-wheels turn, and the knot shall be our sign! We marshal our ranks on the grey pit banks and our lads on the football field, if the cause be right, we are game for the fight - we never were known to yield! And this is the song of the Southvale men In forge, in kiln, in mine, our fires shall burn, and our mill-wheels turn, and the knot shall be our sign! Aye this is the song of the Southvale men In forge, in kiln, in mine, our fires shall burn, and our mill-wheels turn, and the knot shall be our sign! |
Hark! I hear the foe advancing, barbed steeds are proudly prancing, helmets in the sunbeams glancing glitter through the trees. Men of Gowu, lie ye dreaming? See ye not their falchions gleaming, while their pennons gailey streaming flutter in the breeze? From the rocks rebounding, let the war cry sounding summon all at Brianna's call, the haughty foe surrounding. Oh, men of Gowu, onto glory! see your banner famed in story wave these burning words before ye: "Achkaerin scorns to yield!" Mid the fray see dead and dying, friend and foe together lying, all around the arrows flying scatter sudden death. Frightened steeds are wildly neighing, brazen trumpets hoarsely braying, wounded men for mercy praying with their parting breath. See! They're in disorder, comrades, keep close order! Ever they shall rue the day, they ventured o'er the border. Now the Ardian flees before us, Victory's banner floateth o'er us, Raise the loud exulting chorus: "Achkaerin wins the field!" |
The land of my fathers is dear to me, old land where the minstrels are honoured and free; its warring defenders so gallant and brave, for freedom their life's blood they gave. Awhaele! Awhaele! true am I to Awhaele, while seas secure the land so pure, O may the old language endure. |