Cold is hand, and heart, and bone,
Cold the shadows, whispering.
Cold, the dead king, beneath dead stone,
Cold eyes unclosed and glittering.
Dead Barrow-king of long ago,
Dead ghost embodied, tormenting
Dead will awakened, living foe,
Dead fleshless malice, life forgetting.
Numb his corpse, in mail cold,
Numb the fingers, mindless creeping.
Numb his sleep on tarnished gold,
Numb, the ghost through crypt walls seeping.
Fire of his forgotten pride,
Fire of the eye enticing.
Fire, hopeless, once defied,
Fire of hell in cold stone burning.