Which Fanhal the Great made when Orkon was driven from the Red Isle.
From the depths of murky waters
Far beneath the Mountain’s mantle,
Even there the prayer of Fanhal
Nankeinela heard and answered,
When foes beset me round about.
Mighty gates of his compassion
Nankeinela set before me.
Vainly did the ancient slayer,
Who tormented Lanenomen,
Seek to bring me down to torment.
Forth his word went, like an arrow
Winging down to save the outcast,
To uphold the leaguered kingdom
Hard beset by bitter foemen,
Walled around by hornéd monsters.
Churning waters full of monsters,
Many-eyed and full of malice
Boiled with an ancient hunger.
Even there a hidden silence
Waited like a seed to blossom.
From the dark and stormy waters
Your salvation, winging upwards,
Came and struck the fell enchanter—
Struck him down as strikes the thunder
On the windswept southern ranges.
Who may stand when he in anger
Pours his wrath upon the waters?
Under gull-white wings he hides us
While this breath the island purges
With the wind from northlands blowing.
Standing still and silence keeping,
See the hand of Nankeinela
When he rises up in judgment
To stand in power o’er the nations
From his awful seat of doom.
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