Antique Lyrics of Arda

[Walküre]

O GENEROUS LAND!

O generous merry-land
Lying yonder, not at easy hand
Of queer inquisitive stranger,
But under careful watch of swift ranger.

Here happiness and delight reign
And busy peasants do not feign
Neither courtesy nor manner,
Pledging faith to just one banner.

It is the banner of good simple life,
Away from weariness and strife,
Even farther from vainglorious might
That often brings discord and plight.

Nay, even in dire case, shall the little Hobbit not surrender!
Some may want to tear asunder
The joys and hopes of our Shire,
Giving in to one foolish liar.

Friend, you need not despair,
For the Grey Wizard shall ever fare
Where folks cry for aid
And luck seems to fade.

[Walküre]

WHAT THE WISE KNOW

That the Wise knew for sure,
That evil lay in the very core
Of precious Great Rings of old
Whose tale was sung many-fold.

Nine he gave to prideful Men,
The cunning scheme was beyond their ken;
Thus, bold monarchs bent and knelt
As disgraced wraiths that vile death dealt.

Seven Dwarves took glad,
Unbeknownst of pain and sad
Story, marred by flame and greedy ghost,
Which Durin's kin regret the most.

Three were the craft of the immortal kind,
Fairest of all, of crystalline mind;
Made for protection and well-fare
Agin time and its subtle snare.

This the Wise know and enquire,
With watchful eyes that should not admire
The heinous doing of witches and wights,
For a people they guard, along the just one's rights.

[Walküre]

MOON COMPANY

It's time they left grey and grim,
Journeying down the starlit lane
When bright days turn dim,
And deathless Elves begin to wane.

Shadow creeps again forth
Out of spook-wood and cave,
To foul portents giving birth,
Save from hidden havens about the wave.

Neath the lamps of the Sky-Queen
An immortal company takes leave,
Heading westwards, unseen,
Walking incessant morn and eve.

Faraway from the wailing spectre
Of an age close to dusk;
Darkness has risen and holds the sceptre,
Planning mischief and evil task.

The Fair Folk should no longer tarry,
Once they part from their merry fort,
Lingering amidst wear and worry
Until they reach the craved secret port.

[Walküre]

SO UNCANNY A HUE

So uncanny a hue
Which ever grasp so few;
So very pending danger
Wrought by villain, wicked stranger.

Woes take eerie shape,
From forbidden abyss to mountain cape,
Such the bard wills to sing
And his rueful harp wring.

Upon wings of death and grief
Descended from iced cliff
The bane of Elves and Men,
Hidden prior in dark den.

Wherefore, what is the colour of elder days?
Diamond cities or abhorrent blaze?
Many hues of diverse tone,
Songs of river, wood and lonely stone.

Or the colour of demon-ridden night
Clouding clever wit and sight,
Until it is orderly, bright and white,
By act of the merciful Power's might.

[Walküre]

AT WONDER'S END

At wonder's end,
About the sombre shore
She ever weeps to mend
The vicious wounds of lore.

Mourning unjust woe and decay
Whither none may head
But the Valië, bleak and grey,
Ruling over living and dead.

The Lady of Sadness and her home
Beside tenebrous sea and gloomy foam;
Dwelling of mystery and riddle,
Lying in the uncanny West, not near or middle.

Her guest shall wait awhile
Amidst dreariness and tear,
Learning much of mercy, for fell and vile,
Which makes one's soul so clear.

She first gives despair and sorrow,
Within the Eternal Kingdom
Wishing for a sunnier morrow
That endows the weak with wisdom.

[Walküre]

THE PROPER HOUR

'Tis the proper hour
To take the path to green,
Towards the far white tower
Of fair Elf, on voyaging keen.

My darling, the jolly Hobbit will not follow
The ancient fabled route
Which Immortals chant in sorrow,
While advancing with slow foot.

The tiny dwellers of the Shire
Shall rejoice at hedge and grass,
For never is time so dire
To make over life a fuss.

Jugs on tap await
Those in need of warm,
And no guest is ever late
To break the friendly norm.

Fain we feast on tasty meat,
And mushrooms, and salty cheese,
At a gentle one's seat,
Trying the sweet labour of tired bees.

[Walküre]

OLD FOREST, QUEER WOOD

Away from the forest, avoid the wood!
That's home of wights and eerie mood.
Beyond the hedge lurks peril,
Plotting mischief and real evil.

You shan't fare thither!
Where green wastes and goes to wither;
There is talk and say of great rage,
Residing in and grown in age.

Trees are said to speak and murmur,
Rendering all thick and warmer,
For a wicked spell they aim to cast
Which chains wanderers to roots and past.

Along the shabby river's bank
Brooks wind wild and across sank,
Round the haunted gully,
Whence sole ghosts seem to sally.

Gloom falls and spreads wide
As hostile wills loom and glide,
Until a potent song puts the angry willow to sleep,
Resounding further, deep and steep.

[Walküre]

PERILOUS WESTERN ROAD

Afar, as the road turns west,
Shall the unwary be put to test
And taste the bitterness of ruin,
Which smote those lands by vile doing.

Before the Shire and the old reed
The western path will be to lead
Across cold stone and forsaken mound,
Infested by ghosts, deep and round.

Tombs of very unlucky sires,
Beside their many blighted squires;
Monument of great decay
Sowing ever rancour and dismay.

Past the eerie hazardous lane,
Along trees and rambles about to wane,
There shall you find a place of worth
Bestirring fondness and real mirth.

Unless the foreign meets the Eldest,
Warming the troubled and the coldest,
For he's master of hill, wood and water
Abiding well with the fair river-daughter.

[Walküre]

MALICE ENGRAVED

Kindly travellers ought not to stray
From sunlit path along the way
Meandering through cold burial stones,
Home to spooks and charmed bones.

Where the dead lie asleep
In chilling dark and gloomy deep,
Laid into mound and fog
Amidst green plain and wet bog.

Troops of olden days before,
From the chief northern core
Of Men's prideful shire,
Governing far ends and even higher.

Doom struck the merry town
And mayhem all was so to drown;
Then sent foes ghost and wraith
To inhabit tombs and kill faith.

Do not linger by the grave!
Lest very few be near to save
The imprudent whom mares will much to taint,
For wit is little and heart is faint.

[Walküre]

AFTER THE STORM

We grieve and mourn, after the storm
And after siege, drought and swarm;
Of woes the Black Land is the forge,
Her smith was master of doom and scourge.

The ruined City lives again!
A new king is among Men;
Relief and pride are common wit
And fell winds no longer hit.

May the crowned build and repair
What once lay happy, mighty and fair;
Let us gaze still at the Sentry Tower,
Praying that soon shall bloom the White Flower.

The witch-fort has now been taken
Which sheer folly would then awaken
In those who chanced to be too near,
Ending ill in blood and tear.

Vanquished the sorcerer, her walls shall fall.
Pits laid bare, to free the soul
Caged and tortured and made fool
Within the grim stronghold of ghoul.

[Walküre]

THE BLACK LAND

Some feral kind treads the path
Leading to the realm of fury and wrath;
Into the curtain of thick smoke,
Into the shadows which fiends evoke.

The Black Land is all at work,
Orcs wield pikes and hold the fork.
The Lidless Eye shall stand awake,
Cloaked in fire, so does the drake.

Serfs hurry, day and night
To feed the hunger of their master's might,
At the behest of a dreadful lord,
Whose will is command, whose law is word.

Loud rumbles the Fateful Mount,
Once asleep beyond reckon and count;
Now awoken again, in rippling blaze-storm,
Vomiting flames and scorching swarm.

Pray, be the gentle away!
May the Abhorred not sway
Unto the gates of hell,
Poisonous valley and ruinous dell.

[Walküre]

EXILED, STRANDED

Upon the grey dusky shore
We err and linger once more.
On a world which could not be mended
We find ourselves, weakened and stranded.

Light abandoned the weary day,
Taking us to the western way
Past the white bastions of hope,
Greeting glade and steep slope.

Farewell, ancient home!
We shall sail across foam,
To reach the eternal diamond-hall
Behind the undying giant-wall.

Let the prayer soar along
Any road we cheer with song;
Departing is nought but just deed
On which we embark in good speed.

Amidst the journey we might meet
Gentle wisdom and hairy feet.
The tiny kinsfolk we thereby praise,
Leaving, as autumn morning shows her rays.

[Walküre]

DESOLATE WEST

Shires lie ahead
And bear the scar of sad
Events which took place,
Wreaking ruin for the immortal race.

How happy and merry
Would all live without worry;
Great smiths sought to make and craft anew,
Repairing wrongs and wounds, as best they knew.

To mend and heal the earth
Labouring hard was so much worth,
If only ears had not listened
To subtle words, which of eerie light glistened.

Ill-starred was their noble deed,
For lies and snares they were to heed
As good advice from an old great wise,
Who wandered broad in hallowed guise.

Thenceforth war was soon to spread,
Laying many in burial bed,
And then besieging with no rest
The now-despoiled desolate West.

[Walküre]

MIGHTY NORTH

We pray, mighty North,
To get much fortune and worth,
And so rejoice at it in mirth;
May the ode go broad and forth.

Ravaged realm, receive my rhymes
In wicked winter and vile climes
To sing the virtue of glorious past,
Entombed by snow and turned in dust.

Bright gem of your founder
Who landed here from yonder
Where human pride was soon to fade;
To the Land of Gift farewell he bade.

He watched his country plunge in ruin,
Unspeakable treachery and foul doing.
A potent king deemed a devil wise,
Forswearing allegiance and severing ties.

The ancient bond was broken
Fury thus loomed high, from afar awoken.
Western tides raged and mourned,
Choleric storms cried and warned.

[Walküre]

THE FEY CONJUROR

"Tell me the tale, I beseech.
Of queer people to know we fail
In front of dainty or fizzy ale
We fancy fright, scare and screech."

"Well, lovely guest,
I mean not to spoil the fest,
But you will much to enquire
Beyond thatched village and merry Shire.

Thus, here is the story of a mage
Fond of business and friends,
Held high as wise sage,
Who ever heals and mends.

Afar he heads to outer lords and kings,
Gliding swift as though on wings
To bring good tiding and hope,
Riding fast down hill and slope.

Verily, he's hailed with many names
By potent sires and gorgeous dames.
However, content he's ever among the Little Folk
Who him amuses with song and joke."