The Rune of the Four Winds (Tim Porter)

By the Voice in the corries
When the Polestar danceth:
By the Voice on the summits
The dead feet know:
By the soft wet cry
When the Heat-star troubleth:
By the plaining and moaning
Of the Sigh of the Rainbows:
By the four white winds of the world,
Whose father the golden Sun is,
Whose mother the wheeling Moon is,
The North and the South and the East and the West:
By the four good winds of the world,
That Man knoweth,
That One dreadeth,
That God blesseth--
Be all well
On mountain and moorland and lea,
On loch-face and lochan and river,
On shore and shallow and sea !
By the Voice of the Hollow
Where the worm dwelleth:
By the Voice of the Hollow
Where the sea-wave stirs not:
By the Voice of the Hollow
That sun hath not seen yet:
By the three dark winds of the world;
The chill dull breath of the Grave,
The breath from the depths of the Sea,
The breath of To-morrow:
By the white and dark winds of the world,
The four and the three that are seven,
That Man knoweth,
That One dreadeth,
That God blesseth.
Be all well
On mountain and moorland and lea,
On loch-face and lochan and river,
On shore and shallow and sea!