Ghods, here was once a goodly cluster,
Sworn to their oaths by any good reckoning.
They had recoiled as if the Midas Plague were upon ‘em;
As if they heeded unknown realms a-beckoning
They stark ha' vanished—seen it!—and no more
May they be found upon this mortal shore.
As if ancestral spirits alien to this realm
Had lured them—time's a-sunder—to dim scenes--
Perhaps to seek out Lord Foul's Bane's their mission
Or to find out what the aliens' cipher means.
At any rate, they do not trouble us here—
They'll be of harm to goodmen true no mere.
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