Edain 4.7.2 veröffentlicht! / Edain 4.7.2 released!
O generous merry-landLying yonder, not at easy handOf queer inquisitive stranger,But under careful watch of swift ranger.Here happiness and delight reignAnd busy peasants do not feignNeither 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 mightThat often brings discord and plight.Nay, even in dire case, shall the little Hobbit not surrender!Some may want to tear asunderThe joys and hopes of our Shire,Giving in to one foolish liar.Friend, you need not despair,For the Grey Wizard shall ever fareWhere folks cry for aidAnd luck seems to fade.
That the Wise knew for sure,That evil lay in the very coreOf precious Great Rings of oldWhose tale was sung many-fold.Nine he gave to prideful Men,The cunning scheme was beyond their ken;Thus, bold monarchs bent and kneltAs disgraced wraiths that vile death dealt.Seven Dwarves took glad,Unbeknownst of pain and sadStory, 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-fareAgin time and its subtle snare.This the Wise know and enquire,With watchful eyes that should not admireThe heinous doing of witches and wights,For a people they guard, along the just one's rights.
It's time they left grey and grim,Journeying down the starlit laneWhen bright days turn dim,And deathless Elves begin to wane.Shadow creeps again forthOut of spook-wood and cave,To foul portents giving birth,Save from hidden havens about the wave.Neath the lamps of the Sky-QueenAn immortal company takes leave,Heading westwards, unseen,Walking incessant morn and eve.Faraway from the wailing spectreOf 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 worryUntil they reach the craved secret port.
So uncanny a hueWhich ever grasp so few;So very pending dangerWrought by villain, wicked stranger.Woes take eerie shape,From forbidden abyss to mountain cape,Such the bard wills to singAnd his rueful harp wring.Upon wings of death and griefDescended from iced cliffThe 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 nightClouding clever wit and sight,Until it is orderly, bright and white,By act of the merciful Power's might.
At wonder's end,About the sombre shoreShe ever weeps to mendThe vicious wounds of lore.Mourning unjust woe and decayWhither none may headBut the Valië, bleak and grey,Ruling over living and dead.The Lady of Sadness and her homeBeside tenebrous sea and gloomy foam;Dwelling of mystery and riddle,Lying in the uncanny West, not near or middle.Her guest shall wait awhileAmidst 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 KingdomWishing for a sunnier morrowThat endows the weak with wisdom.
'Tis the proper hourTo take the path to green,Towards the far white towerOf fair Elf, on voyaging keen.My darling, the jolly Hobbit will not followThe ancient fabled routeWhich Immortals chant in sorrow,While advancing with slow foot.The tiny dwellers of the ShireShall rejoice at hedge and grass,For never is time so direTo make over life a fuss.Jugs on tap awaitThose in need of warm,And no guest is ever lateTo 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.
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 castWhich chains wanderers to roots and past.Along the shabby river's bankBrooks wind wild and across sank,Round the haunted gully,Whence sole ghosts seem to sally.Gloom falls and spreads wideAs hostile wills loom and glide,Until a potent song puts the angry willow to sleep,Resounding further, deep and steep.
Afar, as the road turns west,Shall the unwary be put to testAnd taste the bitterness of ruin,Which smote those lands by vile doing.Before the Shire and the old reedThe western path will be to leadAcross cold stone and forsaken mound,Infested by ghosts, deep and round.Tombs of very unlucky sires,Beside their many blighted squires;Monument of great decaySowing ever rancour and dismay.Past the eerie hazardous lane,Along trees and rambles about to wane,There shall you find a place of worthBestirring fondness and real mirth.Unless the foreign meets the Eldest,Warming the troubled and the coldest,For he's master of hill, wood and waterAbiding well with the fair river-daughter.
Kindly travellers ought not to strayFrom sunlit path along the wayMeandering through cold burial stones,Home to spooks and charmed bones.Where the dead lie asleepIn chilling dark and gloomy deep,Laid into mound and fogAmidst green plain and wet bog.Troops of olden days before,From the chief northern coreOf Men's prideful shire,Governing far ends and even higher.Doom struck the merry townAnd mayhem all was so to drown;Then sent foes ghost and wraithTo inhabit tombs and kill faith.Do not linger by the grave!Lest very few be near to saveThe imprudent whom mares will much to taint,For wit is little and heart is faint.
We grieve and mourn, after the stormAnd 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 witAnd fell winds no longer hit.May the crowned build and repairWhat 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 takenWhich sheer folly would then awakenIn 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 soulCaged and tortured and made foolWithin the grim stronghold of ghoul.
Some feral kind treads the pathLeading 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 nightTo 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 swayUnto the gates of hell,Poisonous valley and ruinous dell.
Upon the grey dusky shoreWe err and linger once more.On a world which could not be mendedWe find ourselves, weakened and stranded.Light abandoned the weary day,Taking us to the western wayPast the white bastions of hope,Greeting glade and steep slope.Farewell, ancient home!We shall sail across foam,To reach the eternal diamond-hallBehind the undying giant-wall.Let the prayer soar alongAny road we cheer with song;Departing is nought but just deedOn which we embark in good speed.Amidst the journey we might meetGentle wisdom and hairy feet.The tiny kinsfolk we thereby praise,Leaving, as autumn morning shows her rays.
Shires lie aheadAnd bear the scar of sadEvents which took place,Wreaking ruin for the immortal race.How happy and merryWould 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 earthLabouring hard was so much worth,If only ears had not listenedTo subtle words, which of eerie light glistened.Ill-starred was their noble deed,For lies and snares they were to heedAs 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 restThe now-despoiled desolate West.
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 rhymesIn wicked winter and vile climesTo sing the virtue of glorious past,Entombed by snow and turned in dust.Bright gem of your founderWho landed here from yonderWhere 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 brokenFury thus loomed high, from afar awoken.Western tides raged and mourned,Choleric storms cried and warned.
"Tell me the tale, I beseech.Of queer people to know we failIn front of dainty or fizzy aleWe fancy fright, scare and screech.""Well, lovely guest,I mean not to spoil the fest,But you will much to enquireBeyond thatched village and merry Shire.Thus, here is the story of a mageFond 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 wingsTo bring good tiding and hope,Riding fast down hill and slope.Verily, he's hailed with many namesBy potent sires and gorgeous dames.However, content he's ever among the Little FolkWho him amuses with song and joke."