The Traveler

An ancient keep, a forest deep,
A window gleams with fading flame.
Beside the candle, from the skies,
An angel waits and calls no name.

The door shall open in the stone,
The weary pilgrim enters there.
The seraph lifts his silver wing,
And disappears into the air.

Beside the flame, where long he stayed,
An olden book lies still.
In golden binds, the deeds of men —
O wanderer, read, if thou will.

Here Heaven’s grace and Hell’s dark fire
Shall rise before thy mortal sight.
The candle wanes upon the board,
Where rests the book through endless night.

Beside the flame, where long he stayed,
An olden book lies still.
In golden binds, the deeds of men —
O wanderer, read, if thou will.

Long years shall pass through shadowed wilds,
Yet still the ancient castle stands.
How many souls shall it consume,
How many flames in dead men’s hands...

Beside the flame, where long he stayed,
An olden book lies still.
In golden binds, the deeds of men —
O wanderer, read, if thou will.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KDrnpPuilYc