I offer praise to Alator, brave and bounteous,
great and good. Alatar of the old birch way,
of the home of the stag and doe, a land taken
time and again, where fortresses of stone were raised
and ruined, where rule was seized by force and lost
once more, yours are the broad chalk hills, the furrowed field,
yours is the place between right and desire,
between ambition and the commonweal.
Watchful Alator, constant guardian of your tribe,
receiver of fine offerings of silver and gold,
you once were honored, long ago, with words of prayer
and devotion; I honor and revere your might.