Antique Lyrics of Arda

[Walküre]

SHALT SO THOU?

Shalt thou follow on abroad?
Will the Hobbit draw the sword
To vanquish foe and Orc,
Eating not his salty pork?

Home comforts thou wilt miss,
Once afar from nature's bliss.
Friendly visage turneth grim,
There where eves lands bedim.

A sturdy Dwarf shall guide thee sound
Along the countries lying around
All perils plotted thus,
To stray away and make a fuss.

And again a crafty Wizard
To serve thee well in wrathful blizzard,
As the skies red in anger
And betoken gruesome danger.

Roads have darkened very bleak,
Not for swoon, faint or weak.
Yet the quest might with ken endow;
If thou goest. Shalt so thou?

[Walküre]

HOARDING MADNESS

No riches, no treasure.
Shall his greed find a measure?
In the crevice of folly
Will the King be smitten wholly?

Crows forsook the Lonely Mount,
As wealth was soon beyond the count
Of plenty gold therein,
Stowed in haste so deep within.

Shadows grew much dense and long;
Lonesome realm, bereft of song.
A heavy crown to bear,
Until the Hall was all a flare.

On horrid wings he came,
Drawn by gems and envied fame.
Such plight! Such bane! Such omen!
Then mischief was grossly woven.

Roaring strike at the gate.
Remorse was vain and very late.
Nay, not storing luck to light the dullness,
But hoarding sickly twisted madness!

[Walküre]

ODE TO THE WANDERER

Long have you stridden wide,
From forest-mere to mountain side,
For errands were your utmost duty
Across so glinting earthly beauty.

Rues and toils have burdened roads;
Of creeping perils you encountered loads.
Novel tidings you had to bear
And even get whereto you'd fare.

A hat. A staff. A very welcome mage;
One dear to folks, one loth to rage.
Indeed, power dwelt in ardent spirit,
Bidden kind to pass the limit.

Limits binding poor to chain.
Storms compelling evil rain.
Intent some hope in hearts to bring,
He lit some souls with scarlet Ring.

An ode I am to send,
Where deeds with sorrows blend.
To the Wanderer! To the Guest!
To the twilit danger-quest!

[Walküre]

THE DEAD SEASON

What brings of blithe, this deathly season?
Dead as much as seems due reason.
Winds commence their tortuous route;
Grand malaise, one can't refute.

The dreary dormant North,
Wherefrom gales sally forth.
Peaceful lives, beware!
Ice is vile and ruthless snare.

Upon the frost was set a spell,
Into cave and haunted dell,
Which stirs anew the sleeping wight;
So was brought the marring blight!

To fear. To dread.
Tear is seldom gladly shed.
Tempers cool, minds get sore,
There where cold is evermore.

North! O shattered land!
Tales would be so scarcely bland.
Few might speak much truer word
On wicked Winter and its sword.

[Walküre]

MY LUCKY FATE (MY MAIDEN)

Rescue me from ill
And stifling bitter chill.
When gritty clouds rise up above,
You shall come and bring me love.

I fain meander to and fro,
Roving broad, nether low.
Hover then some sullen skies:
Dawn gets grey and morning dies.

Nay! We fancy not to gaze
At lovely blue beset by haze.
Save me, gentle sweeping gale;
You, I swear, I'm not to fail.

Shrill are brooks which shout and cry,
Flooding soil that had been dry,
And jutting rays come fore to cleanse
Mischievous airs, routed hence.

Shall the Hobbit dwell content?
Benighted lads outside once went,
Reporting odds that fears create;
Preserve us fine, my lucky fate.

[Walküre]

I VOW TO STAND

I vow to stand
Unto the land,
Where ash and smoke
The mountain woke.

I vow to battle
And quarrels settle
Among the Men
Of coast and glen.

I vow to stay
In glorious lay,
Whereat we hail
As wondrous tale.

The Black across
Is wrenching loss
For any soul
From marble Hall.

Fires flow
And embers glow
Yon ahead
In vale of dread.

[Walküre]

A SOLE MAN-KING

Ruin and utter doom!
Here is in truth no room
For other crowns to reign
Within my own domain.

Aye, my own land it is!
Spare me fearful pleas,
For ruth is much akin
To utter coward sin.

Before my throne you came,
Fully spent and tame;
You implore to have my reason,
Fleeing bars and lonely prison.

Stay your wicked word,
Cunning mighty lord.
Tenfold mightier sure am I,
Grandly strong and slow to die.

You shall follow me in chains
Away from plots and earthly banes.
A gaoled of Númenor, at my will,
Caught and bound and ever-still.

[Walküre]

SELDOM

Seldom have we told
The grievous lay of gold
Which once was lit aglow
By ardent flaming flow.

Seldom was the aid
Of Dwarven-crafted blade
To triumph over ghouls,
Immune to arms and tools.

Seldom do we speak
Within the frozen peak
Of how declined the court
In such a mournful sort.

Seldom has a token
Merry kingdoms broken,
Unless it were of guile
In perilous fore-while.

Seldom shall we sing
The magic precious Ring
Which beckoned naught but fire,
And slew, alas, the sire.

[Walküre]

REVOLT

I fancy we might try
To venture deep and sly,
For bad this land befell
Across this merry dell.

Fumes we see arise
In darkling scary guise
Above the Hobbit's hole,
And tainting trees' bole.

May ill have not occurred!
Hazed is air and thickly blurred.
Someone took control along;
To the Shire we belong.

While we strove much abroad,
Carrying shield and drawing sword,
Malice turned its gaze afar,
Sneering west at Evening Star.

A queer beggar thenceforth sits
As sordid master of his wits;
Foul strangers ought to bolt,
Ere justness calls revolt.

[Walküre]

I SAW THE WORLD FADE

I saw the world fade
Above the ailing glade,
Inside the sickened green
Of murky bark and being.

Reeds have slept in fear;
Devious grew the mere.
Woods are ill and lame,
Bearing spooky fame.

Nights lie not in gloom
And Lamps renew the bloom
Of young benighted flower
Upon a cheerless bower.

Beheld have I the sky
In wearisome long sigh,
Craving sheer Light
Amid the present blight.

Dusk has paled away
To sacred starlit ray.
The Ever-Fair I see
Atop the gleeful tree.

[Walküre]

YON, PAST THE MIST

One merry shire
Is told by Elven-squire
To dwell past the mist,
Defying Morgoth's Fist.

Yon the gales wester.
Rule the Angels foster.
Within the Eternal Kingdom,
So truly blessed in saintdom.

[Walküre]

FORSAKEN MOORS

All throughout the fells,
Winding up on dells,
Rest the soundless sighs
That from grave arise.

Barrows bar the way.
That is place of slay.
Lords of yore were laid therein;
Greater ghoul they fought agin.

Forsaken moors drive afar
Any well-foreboding star.
Fogs are there to encumber
This grieving realm of sombre.

Beauty vanished soon
At gleaming sinking noon.
Nought remains of virtuous ken,
About the dull infested glen.

Safe from menace to this hour,
Where good souls are not to cower,
Is a land of wood and plain
In the Lord's ever-reign.

[Walküre]

STRAY

Stray and lost
Amid the frost
Of eerie peak
Which heroes seek.

They sought the Pass
That them harass
With hail and snow
Swathing low.

The Wizard knew,
Among the few,
That mountains rage
And loathe the mage.

They failed to climb
In fateful time
The red-lit stone,
As white as bone.

It was a will,
In grinding chill,
Which gravely struck
The Bearer's luck.

[Walküre]

THE GENTLE HOUSE

Away from wild and anger.
Away from creeping danger.
Western routes fell in ruin
By rapid foul undoing.

Undoing and sudden war
Then stained this path with gore,
Unto the Smith's defeat,
Within his shining seat.

Yet some lands withstand,
Far from shore or strand,
Inside a hidden dale
Under charming veil.

There they suffer not;
Home of deathless lot;
Whither voyage Elves
To secure themselves.

Welcome is the guest,
Down the mountain crest,
To the Gentle House:
A lovely fond arouse.

[Walküre]

ENDLESS GUILT

Shame! Was the sword turned
And thenceforth grimly mourned
A vile aberrant kill,
Spurred by greedy will.

Woe! Will was wicked fire;
Vaunted had the Sire
His ardent vengeful wish
To yonder wrath unleash.

Grief! Ire hath unmade
And therefore sorrow laid
To wondrous sea-loved port,
Once of pearls the fort.

Doom! Red grew thus the ancient tide.
Hands were felon slave of pride.
In storm the culprit got away,
As pious blood had washed the Bay.

Death! Valiant Noldo of grand craft,
Thou hast drawn pike and shaft
For the felling of thy kind:
Endless guilt shall thee bind.