Out of the valley of the West, upon their snow-white steeds,
and into ancient legends passed grave men with shining deeds.
Their heralds, made of cloth-of-gold, trailed bright banners in the seaward breeze
that spoke of hoary years of old, and a history of times unseen.
Bright kings of ages past were they, who ruled beyond the Western Sea
and slew great daemons, and lived with fey, in years of unknown centuries.
Their look was wise, their carriage proud, their armour held a starry sheen,
their silver trumpets echoed loud as they rode in from the sea.
Through hanging forests, dank and cold, upon a winding, unknown trail
they rode – noble, proud and bold. Dark were the shadows upon their mail;
bright were their eyes and deep their brows, their hair was gold, their faces pale-
they passed through grove and under bough; out of the West, where dreamships sail.
This is from more than five years ago. I was, as I ever am, quite taken with high fantasy, and trying to recall some of that in this. It is likely similar (though a poor comparison) to a great many works.