Beyond the invisible girdle of north Lies the well-hidden castle of frost And the paths to its towers, carved in ice. Are guarded by wolves of ominous size.
Great are their numbers in winter's realm And great is their strength by all the accounts And nobody passes the borders unseen By the fiery eyes of the servants of wild
Yet some of the evil spirits Those most unobedient and vile Have been cast out of the enchanted domain And doomed to forever roam the land
When full-moon casts its evil beams On silent forests and ice-clad streams Unlucky travellers may then hear A chilling howl of anger afar
There the downfallen children of snow Each of the twelve expelled once Have gathered a threatening army of wolves To avenge upon mankind the curse laid on them
People of highlands, men of the north - folk of fierce courage, endurance and might - yet even They fear the onslaughts of the phantoms at night, and above all their leaders, whom they Named wolfghosts - dreadful masters with white on their breast and bellow-like nostrils, Inclined for warm flesh
And when over the sinister mountains of north Storms forth a raging blizzard of frost Through the snowclouds may sometimes be seen Foggy shades of rushing terrible beasts
Ahead of the flock leaps a tremendous wolf - One of the twelve in hunger and wrath Gnashing its fangs of iron and steel, Whilst leading the majestic legion of night
Pity to those forlorn who may ever perceive The triumphant king of the nebular herd...