De La Grande Bibliotheque de Tamriel
Breathe candent smoke on the veil of Oblivion
And force the line dispelled
Awaken the sleepless, unquiet Princes
And bid Their standing servants rise
It is the night when frost will burn
When flame will freeze the lamplit lake
When clouds of bats devour clouds of birds
When boils and sores afflict the rich
When a boy with wings doth curse the land
If knowing lies fester on my tongue
And such whens are but whispers in the night
These words form a sentence of death
But if the Day of Oblivion is indeed at hand
Servants of the Dark, obey me
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