| Ours Are the Late Hours |
| I call thee forth, Adversary from the South! Accuser! Thou who restraineth not thy mouth! Ever opposite, mighty Lord of fire, O Satan, grant me that which I desire! Come forth, lightbringer, Angel from the East! Thou whose beam penetrates the thickest mist! O shining-most of stars, Spirit of the air, Lucifer Morningstar, grant me thy glare! Thine is Earth's mastery, Prince from the North! Ruler of the field's beasts, I call thee forth! One without master, whom no one can tame, O great Belial, answer to thy name! From whirlpools emerge, Dragon from the West! O raging sea, grant me that which I quest! As thy name is pronounced loud by these lips, Come Leviathan, serpent out of the deeps! |