To ruins, and to the world’s ending

Arise, men of the West!
Break your armour out, for war is coming
The Easterlings are back and menacing,
So let us too met them with force.

Let the Saxons descend from the forests of Teutonia

Let the Anglos charge with long beards and long spears,

Let the Northmen berserk their way with battle axes into the enemies’ rank
(O Odin, give them the greatest fury!)
Let the Gauls blow a horn, and dance the death dance into the Easterlings’ faces
Let the Highlanders pierce the invaders with sharp pikes, and the tartan in the wind wild fly
Let the Bavarii, the Helvetii, the Alemanni, and the Frankii come too
Let twenty seven legions of Rome be resurrected from the grave

Let Conquistadors and Spartans return and go forward brave
For the Mother of all Battles has arrived here on the fields of Vienna, once again.

And in the most dreadful darken hour, let Eastern Occident rise too
Let men from Polonia come with Hussaria on horse, with spears and iron shoes
Let men from Pannonia, children of Attila, Europeanized, firing from their saddles
Let the enemies’ bodies chock full of sharp arrows
Let men from Lithuania and the far reaches of Karelia assemble in the field and then wage battle too
And most of all, let the Cossacks come!
May their curved blades be more terrified than any Tartar’s armour, may they cut them through
Muscovy and Kiev shall be united, for all the good of Europe!

Let our men come

From the high meadows of Scotland and Swabia
From the vast steppes of Ukraine and Siberia

From the sanded coasts of Dalmatia and Epirus

From the ancient hallowed towns of Parma, Calabria and Lombardia

From the rusted hills of Portugal and Gallicia
Let them come and join us.

And even furthermore, from farther places

Let them come even from the ends of the world
From the scorched savannahs of Rhodesia

From the endless prairies of Montana
From the snowed valleys of the Rockies

From the forsaken old fields of Dixe (Long might thou live!)
From the strange deserts of Sonora and the islands of Caribba
From the old houses of Ciudad de México and São Paolo (Ave Maria!)
From Tierra del Fuego with the reachless pampas
From the cracked racked red patches of Western Queensland
From the sleepy places south of Toowomba
From the Shire of the South Seas with its green plains
From Invercargill, at the world’s end.

Let them all come, for the Battle for the West is here
Black flags flying, foes are near
Children crying, women stricken with deadly fear
Let the guardians be the ones they hold dear
Let them come, or return from over the seas!
Let them battle like never have before
Let them destroy our enemies so they remain no more
Let them squashed and crashed to the core.

For Gondor, and for all the ages coming,

To ruins, and to the world’s ending!

 

Edit: a regular reader of this blog has commented below about the need to include the “good Easterlings”. I decided to respond to him with an article.