The Conqueror Worm

by NimphaioN

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Raven SixK Bring on the night, saturate it with the deepest raven black, and then electrify it. Favorite track: The Conqueror Worm (single version).
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Music by V. Malyshev
Verses by E.A. Poe & D. Grail
Recorded, mixed and mastered by Vadim Malyshev (Shuya, Russia, 2016-2017)

Released January 29, 2017

Demether Grail - vocals
Vadim Malyshev - guitars, keyboards
Ilya Evstigneyev - bass
Alexandr Pozhivilko - drums.


released January 30, 2017



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NimphaioN Shuya, Russian Federation

Nimphaion –sympho black metal band from Russia

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Track Name: The Conqueror Worm (single version)
Lo! It is a gala night
Within the latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes roughly
The music of the spheres

Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither, oh and thither fly —
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to-fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible, Oh Woe!

That motley drama! — oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for ever more,
By a crowd seize it not

Salve Deus Magnus Vermis!
Devoratrix nostrum cordis!
Nos quaerere nam permis
Ut sint servitori vobis!

Through a circle that ever returneth
Into the self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin
And Horror the soul of plot

But see, amid the mimic rout,
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And angels sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued

Nos - filii ex libero
Et numquid universali,
Quid facere quod anima
Regendisque ex stellis,
Gloria terrena dulcis
Vermis-victum dedit nos
Gloria amore fetus luce et tenebris, oh!

Worm in fiery crown
Rules this world of light
Kiss His knees and vow
Glorify His might!

Out are the lights — out all!
And o'er each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm!

And the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy "Man",
And its hero the Conqueror Worm
And the demons, all ruby and fanned
They abandon, condemn, disaffirm
That their play is the comedy "Man"
And its king is the Conqueror Worm!
Track Name: Lenore (single version)
Ah, broken is the golden bowl! The spirit flown forever!
Let the bell toll! - a saintly soul floats on Stygian river;
And, Guy de Vere, hast thou no tear? – weep now or nevermore!
See! On yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore!

Come! Let the burial rite be read- the funeral song be sung!-
An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young-

A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young
A wistful song of lovers fed with blood from necks that hung!
My lovely nymph that shone like star fell on the earth with pun
And my salt tears run like river, and darkened beaming God of Light and Sun

Peccavimus; but rave not thus! And let a Sabbath song
Go up to God so solemnly the dead may feel no wrong
The sweet Lenore hath "gone before," with Hope, that flew beside,
Leaving thee wild for the child that should have been thy bride

For her, the fair and debonair, that now so lowly lies,
The life upon her yellow hair but not within her eyes
The life still there, upon her hair - the death upon her eyes…
The death still there, upon her wear – and eyes are full of cries!

"Wretches! Ye loved her for her wealth and hated for her pride,
And when she fell in feeble health, ye bless’d her- that she died!
How shall the ritual, be read? – the requiem be sung

For everlasting martyrdom the sins were madly done
And hellish bells around your soul forevermore had rung!


"Avaunt! avaunt! From fiends below, the irate ghost is riven -
From grief and groan, to golden throne, beside the King of Heaven!
From Hell unto a high estate far up within the Well -
From good and laugh, to skull-clad throne, beside the King of Hell!”

Let no bell toll, then - lest her soul, amid its hallowed mirth,
Should catch the note as it doth float up from the damned Earth!
And I! - to-night my heart is light! - no dirge will I upraise,
But waft the angel on her flight with Paean of old days!


Let no bell toll, then - lest her soul, amid its hallowed mirth,
Should catch the note as it doth float up from the damned Earth!