In Dwimordene, in Lorien
Seldom have walked the feet of Men,
Few mortal eyes have seen the light,
That lies there ever, long and bright.
Clear is the water of your well,
White is the star in your white hand
Unmarrred, unstained is leaf and land,
In Dwimordene, in Lorien
More fair than thoughts of Mortal Men.
To Flammifer of Westernesse.
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
One ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.
Three rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
The world was young, the mountains green,
No stain yet on the Moon was seen,
No words were laid on stream or stone
When Durin woke and walked alone.
He named the nameless hills and dells;
He drank from yet untasted wells;
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,
And saw a crown of stars appear,
As gems upon a silver thread,
Above the shadow of his head
The world was fair, the mountains tall,
In Elder Days before the fall.
Of mighty kings of Nargothrond
And Gondolin, who now beyond
The Western Seas have passed away;
The world was fair in Durin's Day.
A king he was on carven throne
In many-pillared halls of stone
With golden roof and silver floor,
And runes of power upon the door.
The light of sun and star and moon
In shining lamps of crystal hewn
Undimmed by cloud or shade of night
There shone for ever fair and bright.
There hammer on the anvil smote,
There chisel clove, and graver wrote,
There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;
The delver mined, the mason built,
There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,
And metal wrought like fishes' mail,
Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,
And shining spears were laid in hoard.
Unwearied then were Durin's folk;
Beneath the mountains music woke:
The harpers harped, the minstrels sang
And at the gates the trumpets rang.
The world is grey, the mountains old,
The forge's fire is ashen cold;
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls,
The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;
The shadow lies upon his tomb
In Moria, in Khazad-dûm.
But still the sunken stars appear
In dark and windless Mirrormere;
There lies his crown in water deep,
Till Durin wakes again from sleep.
Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear!
O Queen beyond the Western Seas!
O Light to us that wander here
Amid the world of woven trees!
Gilthoniel! O Elbereth!
Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath!
Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee
In a far land beyond the Sea.
O stars in the Sunless Year
With shining hand by her were sown,
In windy fields now bright and clear
We see your silver blossom blown!
Oh Elbereth! Gilthoniel!
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees,
Thy starlight on the Western Seas
Eärendil was a mariner
That tarried in Arvernien;
He built a boat of timber felled
In Nimbrethil to journey in;
Her sails he wove of silver fair,
Of silver were her lanterns made
Her prow was fashioned like a swan,
And light upon her banners laid.
In panoply of ancient kings,
In chainéd rings he armoured him;
His shining shield was scored with runes
To ward all wounds and harm from him;
His bow was made of dragon-horn,
His arrows shorn of ebony,
Of silver was his habergeon;
His scabbard of chalcedony;
His sword of steel was valiant,
Of adamant his helmet tall,
An eagle-plume upon his crest,
Upon his breast an emerald.
Beneath the Moon and under star
He wandered far from northern strands,
Bewildered on enchanted ways
Beyond the days of mortal lands.
From gnashing of the Narrow Ice
Where shadow lies on frozen hills,
From nether heats and burning waste
He turned in haste, and roving still
On starless waters far astray
At last he came to Night of Naught,
And passed, and never sight he saw
Of shining shore nor light he sought.
The winds of wrath came driving him,
And blindly in the foam he fled
From west to east and errandless,
Unheralded he homeward sped.
There flying Elwing came to him,
And flame was in the darkness lit;
More bright than light of diamond
The fire upon her carcanet.
The Silmaril she bound on him
And crowned him with the living light
And dauntless then with burning brow
He turned his prow, and in the night
From Otherworld beyond the Sea
There strong and free a storm arose,
A wind of power in Tarmenel;
By paths that seldom mortal goes
His boat it bore with biting breath
As might of death across the grey
As long-forsaken seas distressed;
From east to west he passed away.
Through Evernight he back was borne
On black and roaring waves that ran
O'er leagues unlit and foundered shores
That drownded before the Days began,
Until he heard on strands of pearl
When ends the world the music long,
Where ever-foaming billows roll
The yellow gold and jewels wan.
He saw the Mountain silent rise
Where twilight lies upon the knees
Of Valinor and Eldamar
Beheld afar beyond the seas.
A wanderer escaped from night
To haven white he came at last,
To Elvenhome the green and fair
Where keen the air, where pale as glass
Beneath the Hill and Ilmarin
A-glimmer in a valley sheer
The lamplit towers of Tirion
Are mirrored on the Shadowmere.
He tarried there from errantry
And melodies they taught to him,
And sages old him marvels told,
And harps of gold they brought to him,
They clothed him then in elven-white,
And seven lights before him sent,
As through the Calacirian
To hidden land forlorn he went,
He came unto the timeless halls
Where shining fall the countless years,
And endless reigns the Elder King
In Ilmarin on Mountain sheer,
And words unheard were spoken then
Of folk of Men and Elven-kin,
Beyond the world were visions showed
Forbid to those that dwell therein.
A ship then new they built for him
Of mithril and of elven-glass
With shining prow; no shaven oar
N or sail she bore on silver mast;
The Silmaril as lantern light
And banner bright with living flame
To gleam thereon by Elbereth
Herself was set, who thither came
And wings immortal made for him,
And laid on him undying doom,
To sail the shoreless skies and come
Behind the Sun and light of Moon.
From Evereven's lofty hills
Where softly silver fountains fall
His wings him bore, a wandering light,
Beyond the mighty Mountain Wall,
From World's End then he turned away,
And yearned again to find afar
His home through shadows journeying,
And burning as an island star
On high above the mists he came,
A distant flame before the Sun,
A wonder ere the waking dawn
Where grey the Norland waters run.
And over Middle-earth he passed
And heard at last the weeping sore
Of women and of elven-maids
In Elder Days, in years of yore.
But on him mighty doom was laid
Till Moon should fade, an orbéd star
To pass, and tarry never more
On Hither Shores where mortals are;
For ever still a herald on
An errand that should never rest
To bear his shining lamp afar.
Gil-galad was an Elven-king,
Of him the harpers sadly sing:
The last whose realm was fair and free
Between the Mountains and the Sea.
His sword was long, his lance was keen,
His shining helm afar was seen;
The countless stars of heaven's field
Were mirrored in his silver shield.
But long ago he rode away,
And where he dwelleth none can say;
For into darkness fell his star
In Mordor where the shadows are.
The leaves were long, the grass was green,
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,
And in the glade a light was seen
Of stars in shadow shimmering.
Tinuviel was dancing there
To music of a pipe unseen,
And light of stars was in her hair,
And in her raiment glimmering.
There Beren came from mountains cold,
And lost he wandered under leaves,
And where the Elven-river rolled
He walked alone and sorrowing.
He peered between the hemlock-leaves
And saw in wonder flowers of gold
Upon her mantle and her sleeves,
And her hair like shadow following.
Enchantment healed his weary feet
That over hills were doomed to roam;
And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,
And grasped at moonbeams glistening.
Through woven woods in Elvenhome
She lightly fled on dancing feet,
And left him lonely still to roam
In the silent forest listening.
He heard there oft the flying sound
Of feet as light as linden-leaves,
Or music welling underground,
In hidden hollows quavering.
Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,
And one by one with sighing sound
Whispering fell the beechen leaves
In the wintry woodland wavering.
He sought her ever, wandering far
Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,
By light of moon and ray of star
In frosty heavens shivering.
Her mantle glinted in the moon,
As on a hill-top high and far
She danced, and at her feet was strewn
A mist of silver quivering.
When winter passed, she came again,
And her song released the sudden spring,
Like rising lark, and falling rain,
And melting water-bubbling.
He saw the elven-flowers spring
About her feet, and healed again
He longed by her to dance and sing
Upon the grass untroubling.
Again she fled, but swift he came,
He called her by her elvish name;
And there she halted listening.
One moment stood she, and a spell,
His voice laid on her: Beren came,
And doom fell on Tinuviel
That in his arms lay glistening.
As Beren looked into her eyes
Within the shadows of her hair,
The trembling starlight of the skies
He saw there mirrored shimmering.
Tinuviel the elven-fair
Immortal maiden elven-wise,
About him cast her shadowy hair
And arms like silver glimmering.
Long was the way that fate them bore
O'er stony mountains cold and grey
Through halls of iron and darkling door
And woods of nightshade morrowless.
The Sundering Seas between them lay,
And yet at last they met once more,
And log ago they passed away
In the forest singing sorrowless.