Gleaming shell of an outworn lie; fable of Right divine— You gained your crowns by heritage, but Blood was the price of mine. The throne that I won by blood and sweat , by Crom, I will not sell For promise of valleys filled with gold, or threat of the Halls of Hell! The Lion strode through the Halls of Hell; Across his path grim shadows fell Of many a mowing, nameless shape Monsters with dripping jaws agape. The darkness shuddered with scream and yell When the Lion stalked through the Halls of Hell. "The Scarlet Citadel" -Robert E. Howard
