Edain 4.7.2 veröffentlicht! / Edain 4.7.2 released!
To chains bound,Until sad demise him will have found,That is the life of the slave, living in fear,No time to rest, no moment for shedding a tear.Lucky is he who stands freely, even the fool,Neither a prisoner nor a tool,Vile minds plot in secret, war shall take us all,May it be that the vanquished retrieves a new hope, nourished by justice and yearning to bring about the Evil's fall.
Through them hast thou seen,Eä in its prime, prior to all which hath been,Thy hands placed those radiant bastions in the vast sky,Where they are and forever shall lie.Magnificent wonder,Roaming infinity, hither and yonder,Through them gaze we at the Might, plain and sheer,Brighter than thy own lamps, the sharpest spear.
Away from the Black Tower, lest it mean harm,There dwells magic and eerie riddles, veiled by such great a charm,Nay, 'tis not fiend, ghost, master of necromancy or witch,A grand sorcerer, revered by folks, versed with machines and moving speech.
Painful the sight of ruin, scattered pieces of glory,What was of the ruling realm of the North,Home to valiant knights and no less gallant a king,The king of Men, prime crown of Middle-earth,Ice and snow were seldom nice companions through the passing years,They knew the nightmare was somehow persisting still, hidden somewhere,An ancient malaise, buried under the frosted peaks,An evil kingdom, seeking the hour of uprising,So far was the age of the first monarch of those boreal ends,The faithful, the loyal, the kind-hearted fellow of the immortal brethren.His life was spared from utter demise,From the tragic fall of their nigh-omnipotent empire,The five-pointed isle lay once in the middle of the broad ocean,Every tide would bring their vessels hither and thither,Ere they dared the unnamable, seditious and won by sheer ambition,Northern bastion, behold the doom befallen!Who shall ever deem oneself safe behind your marble?Rebellion raided the common wealth of peace, until war broke you asunder,Your vile foe was awaiting in silence,Very little of the remnants could ever make the wanderer guess your lost might, unless foreign eyes be keen and through those sombre bare bones see.
In the saving guise of the warmest sun,Which heats the shire whilst fierce steeds run,They run free, along no merry kingdom but a pale land,Forsaken and cursed, resembling that far earldom in the South, buried in the sand,Lawless vastness, haunted by foul demons,Thence nought may be certain to come that is conceived with sound reasons,A devil did truly seize this our heath, my fellow friends,One disguising his true intent, his wicked well-kept ends,The horse-crown quails, recoiling before such evil,May it be that a fine auxiliary shall come for the rescue, waking a mind driven to folly and grown feeble.
Old adventurous traveller, where hast thou been thus far?Much hope I that absence is due to no wound or scar,It were joy to welcome the famed squire back to his court,If thou be'st to enter anew the green Shire, as guest wanted and worth.
Darkness, avaunt!On my path shalt thou find no quarter,So in the rear as in the front,Of this my rider-host, for the gallant shan't falter.
Finally, it betrayed his hand,At wit's end, while seeking shelter,In the cold and treacherous waters of the river,Gloomy shores, abounding of sorrow,It availed nothing, alas,Malice had already plotted its early release,From the firm finger of the poor king,Whence the golden Ring slipped,Giving way to the ruthless volley of the Orcs,Leading a noble to his impious doom and our story to excruciating protraction.
Inside hell I found myself, trapped by rusty iron and fell fire,Good Lords of the Sunset, I would I had not forsaken your merry shire,An evil yoke keepeth me bowed and hopeless,I have lost memory of fond friends, glorious sires and gentleness.Good Lords, this my soul beggeth your pardon, conquered and weak,Now is my blood running livid and thick,End may be near, perhaps, and thus I send you the wish,For a soon return to your realm, loose from chains and evil leash.
Storms loom over the northern skies, I may sense,Ensemble of hatred and tyranny, darker than hopeless nights and dense,The Fell Vala shall shatter Arda's roots in rage,Summoning his black vastness of slaves to assault the Good and war wage.
Quakes, tremors and rumbling thunder,I feel the battle infuriating, tearing the fortunes of Beleriand asunder,The Tyrant crieth his wrath in the abyss, an utter pillar of woes vowing to raise,Then, horror is set loose from the depth of iron, releasing flames and evil blaze.
We wish you listened gladly to this jolly song,No scorn, insult or wrong,Hard works the gentle Hobbit in his fields,His stick he holds pridefully, as the warrior his blade wields,Seasons come, seasons go,Days get warm or cool, yet never so high nor low,Seldom is the envoy bearer of ill news,Apart from the unknown stranger, ever fond of fizzy beer and hot stews,Such are the mornings and nights within the merry Shire,Come, mate, let us sing together a tune of joy, as a great happy choir.
The only hope of a deeply marred earth,Rightly should one spread the tale, as living in legend it is worth,This tale of sadness, mingled with pride,Ranks upon ranks, armies contest each other and knights ride,Across the Black Land,The host of resistance has risen, whose valiant heads the wrong shall mend,The king of Men and his fine kin, beside whom marches the Elven monarch wielding that fabled lance,Spear of starlight, craft of old mystery, which ever availed the Good's cause in such deadly a dance.
Crying anger and revenge of calamitous sort,Roaring and shouting, for the madness and agony of his adversaries,Murmuring all along the lands of such divided kingdom,Uttering words of deceit and treasonous schemes,The will of this dark sire will never rest nor have fond peace,His spirit demands chaos and grievous remnants over which to rule,Heinous events, scattered all along the broad continent,A sole intent moves this relentless force,The crushing of those who walk the earth as free and bold,The ashes of ruin looming over the wrathful skies of doom.
Old paper, kept sound in the valley,Wonders within those pages, of an ancient world, known widely and wholly,Fine remembrance of glory, valiant kings, grief and might of yore,Rivendell, holy home of ours, may the weary rest beneath your trees and be made wiser by your lore.
Autor
Thema: Antique Lyrics of Arda (Gelesen 173944 mal)
