"Fool sister who would wrest th'imperial crown
From one whom destiny decrees more just -
Condemn thee then thy minions to the grave
And sleep for aye among such mortal dust.
"A century or aeons - 'tis the same
To one whom time and sorrow cannot mark;
The morals and the rights of those who die
Mean nothing to the victor at the last".
Now Charn broods dark beneath the bloody sun,
Red light and shadow: all is still and stark;
The golden bell awaits, and Jadis sleeps,
And in her breast retains the living spark.