From An-Tir’s border in mountains far to the north;
To the wolves’ prairies, south nigh on Caid,
From the windy meads in the setting sun;
To the deserts, silver in the sunrise,
Over all flies the Sable Swan of Cynagua;
The honored standard of our Princess and our Prince.
Gold of sunset, silver of rivers, and sable of starry skies.
Of such is that standard made.
Golden are the pure hearts of Cynagua’s Ladies;
Silver are the blades of our warriors.
Black are the dreams of so rash a foe
As besmirches our borders with tread of foreign boot,
Or the repute of our people with untoward word!
Hail, Cynagua, gem of the West!
Hail, our Princess, and our Prince!
Hail, you valiant warriors.
Marching beneath the banner of the Swan!
Hail, artisans, crafters, elder, and children, body of our land!
All hail Cynagua, our land, our people, our Lady and Lord!
All hail the dream!
The West Kingdom History Website was created by and is maintained by Hirsch von Henford (mka Ken Mayer).