Lady of Light, Lady of Life,
Our destiny is poised on the blade of a knife.
The war-bands howl on the sacred ground,
And one woman's word could bring the empire down.
For now the eagle of Rome rides high,
But storm clouds gather in the sky.
"Revenge for Mona!" the young men cry.
At midnight the ravens fly!
Lord of the Hunt, by the Sacred Tree,
How long will it take to set your people free?
"Make peace with Rome," old men advise
And harden their hearts to the people's cries.
But the price of peace is just too high.
How many more must we see die
Before we raise our battle cry?
At midnight the ravens fly!
Lady of Death, Lady of Strife,
The old law requires a life for a life.
Better to die by your own hand
Than to live with shame in some stranger's land.
Though the dragon's fire consume the sky
And the lands below like deserts lie,
The rule of Rome we will deny!
At midnight the ravens fly!