War Song – Owain Glyndŵr | Occidentum Lux

OCCIDENTUM LUX | War Song – Owain Glyndŵr's Rebellion Lives

Occidentum Lux exists to rekindle the fire of the West — not the postmodern West of today, but the one forged in blood, belief, sacrifice, and song. We reject the decay of modernity. We remember our ancestors. And we bring their voices forward — through darksynth, synthwave, and cinematic sound.

This track, "War Song," is based on the legendary poetic tribute to Owain Glyndŵr, the last native Prince of Wales and leader of a national uprising against English rule in the early 15th century.

About the Song: War Song
The lyrics of this track are adapted directly from Owain Glyndŵr’s War Song — a fiery bardic poem that calls on warriors, poets, and eagles of the hills to rise for the freedom of Wales. It invokes the spirit of prophecy, vengeance, and glory in the face of tyranny.

Owain Glyndŵr was more than a military leader — he was a symbol.
A scholar, soldier, and statesman, Glyndŵr led a fierce resistance against English domination, sparked Welsh nationalism, and dreamed of an independent Welsh parliament and university. Though betrayed and driven into the shadows, his legend never died. It endures — in stone, in wind, and now… in sound.

What We Stand For
At Occidentum Lux, we resurrect the mythic memory of our civilization.
We use digital fire to carry the legacy of European poetry, warriorhood, and identity into a world that tries to forget it.

This isn’t nostalgia. It’s resistance.

#OwainGlyndŵr #WarSong #OccidentumLux #WelshHistory #Darksynth #WesternRevival #RejectModernity #FreedomThroughMemory #CymryForever #GlendwrRides #EpicSynthwave

Lyrics -

Saw ye the blazing star?
The heavens look’d down on freedom’s war,
And lit her torch on high.

Bright on the dragon crest,
Glory’s wing shall rest
When warriors meet to die.
Let earth’s pale tyrants read despair
And vengeance in its flame.

Hail ye, my bards, the omen fair
Of conquest and of fame!
Swell the rushing mountain air
With songs to Glyndwr’s name.

At the dead hour of night,
Each majestic height
Burn’d in its awful beams.
Red shone th’ eternal snows,
The land was full of dreams.

O eagles of the battle, rise!
The hope of Gwynedd wakes!
Your banner in the skies
Mantles the hills and lakes.

A murmur as of swelling seas—
The Saxon on his way!
Spear and shield and lance,
Reflected to the day.

Let those who wake the soul beware—
The lion guards his lair.
The greenest dells may bleed
With fire and steel laid bare.

Of us they told, the seers,
In burning strains of power.
A prophet in Snowdon’s caves
Saw Glyndwr’s destined hour.

The march of ages passed away—
Glyndwr’s path of light.