"Sabelmayarnlen" by John H. Blackham

'There!' he did cry
As the white began to stain
The valley; they did not fly
And with his war-cry
Sanadred ordered them slain

And at them he went
His army behind him
Tho' his sword was bent
His war was unkempt
Thus flew and trailed behind him

Yea, he attacked in great haste
His men followed their lord
His rage their foes did taste
But yet they laid waste
Thus was the viscoius hoard

Enraged were they
They heeded not the lord falling
Lept did they
Into the fray
And left their King hopelessesly calling

No barrow was made
No headstone erected
No funeral dirge played
No eulegy prayed
No body had the grave protected

When at length their foes
Did take the fair dead
Thus lowered their bows
So the lore goes
And laid Sanadred in a stone bed

Into the mountains they went
Burdened by the stone casket
This all their potency spent
And all their backs bent
'Twas all they could do to clasp it

Thus was the will of the Elven Conclave
Thus Sanadred was entombed near his lands
Buried was he, deep in a cave
Elves working nigh like a slave
Yet in his death he stretched ghoulish hands

And took form again, though no longer fair
And took up his royal garb
No ornament did it bear
Nor was it made with great care
Thus became his black garb