Once I was mighty, in my home of old. In cloak of night, I wrapped my mortal frame, Strode forth intending deeds of daring bold, And gladly took Ill Omen for my name. On less than ash and air, I learned to feast, And went to walk atop a mountain wall; But in that lonely land, my strength decreased. I loosely held my cloak, then let it fall. Beneath, there stood a creature of no name, That shivered in this high and airy place; That found no comfort in its wisps of fame, But longed for laughter and a kind embrace.