Cast I now these emerald eyes out upon such once wondrous moors
Moors that moved as gently as satin with colors upon them embroidered
Mists rise gently like a baby's breath in the early morning hours
And bathe the seacoasts in their gentle sighs oh so blessed was this coastline ours.
Hills rise like the giants that still live to heights with their heads in clouds
To have their heads serenely and most splendidly crowned in such prismatic shrouds
Oh how I feel the wind in my soul, as it moves from flower to flower
Plucking from it the scent of one to combine with the scent of the other
Then carries it them this heavenly bouquet to the scent of these giants high
To then intake into themselves the perfumes of the lands over which they cry
Tis all of this I am made of and yet I am made of more much more tis true
I am the roughness of  the crags, I am as the meadows sweet, femininely pure
I am the passion of the waves that makes them pound upon the shores
I am the white lace that decorates their coming force, delicately sure
For I am the one that in all of this is borne the completeness thereof from birth in mystic shower
I am the one, the Royal Blooded one, that holds the keys of life in emerald jewels to these powers
And while I live I bear the joy of spring in my eyes,  I feel the pain of fall in my heart
I rejoice in the wrath of the summer in my passions, and like the chill of winter I do wrath impart
Cast I now these emerald eyes out upon such once wondrous moors
And swear by the blood of my kith and kin that lays in the peat, the moss,in voice crying out sore
That the Warrior borne inside Lady Divine, The Knighted Lady borne beside the Temptress Goddess's hand
Shall ner let their voices cry out in such loss, ken I weel the need that they have, I come again,  to free my land.
The Blooded Hawk, The Peregrine, The Pirate Queen, The Princess Highwayman, rises on divine wing
And will by the Blessings of Etain, Mother and Goddess to me, free ye for I hear ye in the hell bells that ring.
So thus I wait, this Emparian, This Valerian Royal Young Woman Bold, still and keen await I now
To hear the instructions from the Temple of the land of my people Tir Na Og, from a Mother to whom I vowed
That I shall stand till nae a drop of blood within my veins remains to run red as the leaves of fall
As the Prophetic One, The Queen of the Isles, I await to hear from Temple of Gold, Ambriel's call
And then shall daughter go forth and with army of Valerian strength rain down
Upon the Dark Ones, The Unseelie that think they have power to usurp my crown.
Oh fools, no mercy did they my kin or kith give, thus they have sealed their fate
For surely as the hell bells ring out from golden temple's gates
I shall go forth upon sea and land and retake that which belongs to all
And their blood shall be the refreshing rain that shall once more raise the Mystical Isles.