Index to first lines ____________________ THE SECRET VICE _ Man kenuva fane kirya THE HOMECOMING OF BEORHTNOTH BEORHTHELM'S SON There are candles in the dark and cold voices His head was higher than the helm of kings THE HOBBIT Far over misty mountains cold THE LORD OF THE RINGS The leaves vere long, the grass was green Earendil was a mariner I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? Over the land there lies a long shadow Out of doubt, out of dark, to the day's rising Silver flow the streams from Celos to Erui To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying THE RED BOOK I walked by the sea, and there came to me * * * The Last Ark ____________ Oilima Markirya _______________ Who shall see a white ship _ Man kenuva fane kirya leave the last shore, _ metima hrestallo kira, the pale phantoms _ i fairi neke in her cold bossom _ ringa sumaryasse like gulls wailing? ve maiwi yaimie? - 5 - Who shall heed a white ship _ Man tiruva fana kirya, vague as a butterfly, wilwarin wilwa, in the flowing sea ear-kelumessen on wings like stars, _ ramainen elvie, the sea surging, ear falastala, - 10 - the foam blowing, _ winga hlapula the wings shining, _ ramar sisilala the light fading? _ _ kale fifirula? Who shall hear the wind roaring _ _ Man hlaruva ravea sure like leaves of forests; ve tauri lillassie, - 15 - the white rocks snarling ninqiu karkar yarra in the moon gleaming, isilme ilkalasse, in the moon waning, _ isilme pikalasse, in the moon falling isilme lantalasse a corpse-candle; _ ve loikolikuma; - 20 - the storm mumbling, raumo nurrula, the abyss moving? _ undume rumala? Who shall see the clouds gather, Man kenuva lumbor na-hosta the heaven bending _ Menel na-kuna upon crumbling hills, _ ruxal' ambonnar, - 25 - the sea heaving, ear amortala, the abyss yawing, _ undume hakala, the old darkness _ enwina lume beyond the stars falling elenillor pella upon fallen towers? talta-taltala - 30 - _ atalantie mindoninnar? Who shall heed a broken ship _ Man tiruva rakina kirya on the green rocks ondolisse morne under red skies, _ nu fanyare rukina, a bleared sun blinking _ anar purea tihta - 35 - on bones gleaming axor ilkalannar in the last morning? _ metim' auresse? Who shall see the last evening? _ Man kenuva metim' adune? *** On translation: _ 1. ken 'see, behold' ; fane 'white' _ 2. metima 'ultimate,final' ; hresto 'beach' _ 3. faire 'phantom, spirit, seen as pale shape' ; neka 'faint, dim' _ 4. suma 'hollow cavity, bosom' 5. yaime 'wailing' (noun), yaimea (adjective) 7. wilwarin 'butterfly' ; wilwa 'fluttering to and fro' 8. kelume 'flowing, flood, stream' 9. elvie 'starlike' 10. falasta 'to foam' 11. winga 'foam, spray' ; hlapu 'fly or stream in the wind' 12. sil 'shine ( white )' _ _ 13. kale 'light' (noun) ; fir 'die, fade' ; firifu 'slowly fade away' _ 14. rave 'roaring noise' 15. lillassie - pl. for lillassea 'having many leaves' 16. yarra 'growl,snarl' 17. isilme 'moonlight' ; ilkala - participle of ilka 'gleam (white)' _ 18. pika 'lessen, dwindle' _ _ 20. loiko 'corpse, dead body' ; likuma 'taper,candle' < liko 'wax' 21. raumo 'noise of storm' ; nurru 'murmur,grumble' _ 22. ruma 'shift, move (on heavy things)' 23. na-hosta 'gather, collect, assemble' _ 24. kuna 'bent, curved' 30. talta 'slip, slide down' 31. atalante 'collapse, downfall' (noun) ; atalantea 'ruinous,downfallen' _ 32. rakina - past participle of rak 'break' _ 34. fanyare 'the skies, upper air and clouds' ; rukina 'confused,shattered' _ 35. purea 'smeared, discoloured' ; tihta 'blink,peer' 36. axo 'bone' *** Variant readings: _ 3. i neka fairi 16. ninqui ondor yarra 31. atalantea 35. tihtala _ 37. metima amaureasse ; amaureasse - poetic word for 'dawn, early day' _ 38. andunie . . . The creaking and rattling of the waggon, and the sound of hoofs, continue for some time, during which no words are spoken. After a while lights glimmer in the distance. Torhthelm speaks from the waggon, drowsily and half dreaming. There are candles in the dark and cold voices. I hear mass chanted for master's soul in Ely isle. Thus ages pass, and men after men. Mourning voices of women weeping. So the world passes; day follows day, and the dust gathers, his tomb crumbles, as time gnaws it, and his kith and kindred out of ken dwindle. So men flicker and in the mirk go out. The world withers and the wind rises; the candles are quenched. Cold falls the night. The light disappear as he speaks. Torhthelm's voice becomes louder, but it is still the voice of one speaking in a dream. It's dark! It's dark, and doom coming! Is no light left for us? A light kindle, and fan the flame! Lo! Fire now wakens, hearth is burning, house is lighted, men there gather. Out of the mist they come through darkling doors whereat doom waiteth. Hark! I hear them in the hall chanting: stern words they sing with strong voices. ( He chants ) Heart shall be bolder, harder be purpose, more proud the spirit as our power lessens! Mind shall not falter nor mood waver, though doom shall come and dark conquer. . . . His head was higher than the helm of kings with heathen crowns, his heart keener and his soul clearer than swords of heroes polished and proven; than plated gold his worth was greater. From the world has passed a prince peerless in peace and war, just in judgement, generous-handed as the golden lords of long ago. He has gone to God glory seeking, Beorhtnoth beloved. Now mourn for ever Saxon and English, from the sea's margin to the western forest! The wall is fallen, women are weeping; the wood is blazing, and the fire flaming as a far beacon. Build high the barrow his bones to keep! For here shall be hid both helm and sword; and to the ground be given golden corslet, and rich raiment and rings gleaming, wealth unbegrudged for the well-beloved; of the friends of men first and noblest, to his hearth-comrades help unfailing, to his folk the fairest father of peoples. Glory loved he; now glory earning his grave shall be green, while ground or sea, while word or woe in the world lasteth. . . . ...The dark filled all the room, and the fire died down, and the shadows were lost, and still they played on. And suddenly first one and then another began to sing as they played, deep-throated singing of the dwarvs in the deep places of their ancient homes; and this is like a fragment of their song, if it can be like their song without their music. Far over misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away ere break of day, To seek the pale enchanted gold. The dwarves of yore made mighty spells, While hammers fell like ringing bells In places deep, where dark things sleep, In hollow halls beneath the fells. For ancient king and elvish lord There many a gleaming golden hoard They shaped and wrought, and light they caught To hide in gems on hilt of sword. On silver necklaces they strung The flowering stars, on crowns they hung The dragon-fire, in twisted wire They meshed the light of moon and sun. Far over misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away ere break of day, To claim our long-forgotten gold. Goblets they carved there for themselves And harps of gold; where no man delves There lay they long, and many a song Was sung unheared by men or elves. The pines were roaring on the hight, The winds were moaning in the night. The fire was red, it flaming spread; The trees like torches blazed with light. The bells were ringing in the dale And men looked up with faces pale; The dragon's ire more fierce than fire Laid low their towers and houses frail. The mountains smoked beneath the moon; The dwarves, they heared the tramp of doom. They fled their halls to dying fall Beneath his feet, beneath the moon. Far over the misty mountains grim To dungeons deep and caverns dim We must away ere break of day, To win our harps and gold from him! . . . _ '...I will tell you the tale of Tinuviel,' said Strider, 'in brief - for it is a long tale of which the end is not known; and there are none now, except Elrond, that remember it aright as it was told of old. It is a fair tale, though it is sad, as are all the tales of Middle-earth. ...That is a song in the mode that is called ann-thennath among the Elves, but is hard to render in our Common Speech, and this is but a rough echo of it.' 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. _ _ Tinuviel! Tinuviel! 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 gray, 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 long ago they passed away In the forest singing sorrowless. . . . ...At first the beauty of the melodies and the interwoven words in Elven-tongue, even though he understood them little, held him in a spell, as soon as he began to attend to them. Almost it seemed that the words took shape, and visions of far lands and bright things that he never yet imagined opened out before him; and the firelit hall become like a golden mist above seas of foam that sighed upon the margins of the world. Then the enchatment become more and more dreamlike, until he felt that an endless river of swelling gold and silver was flowing over him, too multitudinous for its pattern to be comprehended; it became part of the throbbing air about him, and it drenched and drowned him. ... Earendil 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 chained rings he armored him; - 10 - 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. - 20 - 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, - 30 - 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 of her carcanet. - 40 - 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 of biting breath as might of death across the grey - 50 - and 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 drowned before the Days began, until he hears on strands of pearl where ends the world the music long, where ever-foaming billows roll, the yellow gold and jewels wan. - 60 - 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 of Ilmarin a-glimmer in a valley sheer - 70 - 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. - 80 - He came unto the timeless halls, where shining fall the countless years, and endless reigns the Elder King in Ilmarin of 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 - 90 - with shining prow; no shaven oar nor 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. - 100 - 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, - 110 - 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 orbed star to pass, and tarry newer more on Hither Shores where mortals are; - 120 - for ever still a herald on an errand that should newer rest to bear his shining lamp afar, the Flammifer of Westernesse. . . . ...In the midst of the vessel sat Celeborn, and behind him stood Galadriel, tall and white; a circlet of golden flowers was in her hair, and in her hand she held a harp, and she sang. Sad and sweet was the sound of her voice in the cool clean air: I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew: Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew. Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea, And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree. Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone, In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion. There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years, While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears. _ O Lorien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day; The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away. _ O Lorien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor. But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me, What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea? . . . ... Then he began to chant softly in a slow tongue unknown to the Elf and Dwarf; yet they listened, for there was a strong music in it. ... 'That, I guess, is the language of the Rohirrim', said Legolas, 'for it is like to the land itself; rich and rolling in part, and else hard and stern as the mountains. And it is laiden with the sadness of Mortal Men.' Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing? Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing? Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing? They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow; The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow. Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning, Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning? . . . ...'Listen! This is the word that the sons of Elrond bring to me from their father in Rivendell, wisest in lore: Bid Aragorn remember the words of the seer, and the Paths of the Dead.' 'And what may be the words of the seer?' said Legolas. 'Thus spoke Malbeth the Seer, in the days of Arvedui, last king of Fornost,' said Aragorn: Over the land there lies a long shadow, westward reaching wings of darkness. The Tower trembles; to the tombs of kings doom approaches. The Dead awaken; for the hour is come for the oathbreakers: at the Stone of Erech they shall stand again and hear there a horn in the hills ringing. Whose shall the horn be? Who shall call them from the grey twilight, the forgotten people? The heir of him to whom the oath they swore. From the North shall he come, need shall drive him: he shall pass the Door to the Path of the Dead. . . . _ Burial Song of Theoden ______________________ ...Then the Riders of the King's House upon white horses rode round about the barrow and sang together a song of Theoden Thengel's son that Gleowine his minstrel made, and he made no other song after. The slow voices of the Riders stirred the hearts even of those who did not know the speech of that people; but the words of the song brought a light to the eyes of the folk of the Mark. ... Out of doubt, out of dark, to the day's rising he rode singing in the sun, sword unsheathing. Hope he rekindled, and in hope ended; over death, over dread, over doom lifted out of loss, out of life, unto long glory. . . . Silver flow the streams from Celos to Erui In the green fields of Lebennin! Tall grows the grass there. In the wind from the Sea The white lilies sway, And the golden bells are shaken of mallos and alfirin In the green fields of Lebennin, In the wind from the Sea! . . . ... 'In days to come, if my Elven-lord allows, some of our folk shall remove hither; and when we come it shall be blessed, for a while. For a while: a month, a life, a hundred years of Men. But Anduin is near, and Anduin leads down to the Sea. To the Sea! To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying, The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying. West, west away, the round sun is falling. Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling, The voices of my people that have gone before me? I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me; For our days are ending and our years failing. I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing. Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling, Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling, _ In Eressea, in Elvenhome that no man can discover, Where the leaves fall not: land of my people for ever!' And so singing Legolas went away down the hill. . . . The Sea-Bell ____________ It is the latest piece of The Red Book and belongs to the Fourth Age; but it is included here, because a hand has scrawled at its head Frodos Dreme. That is remarkable, and though the piece is most unlikely to have been written by Frodo himself, the title shows that it was associated with the dark and despairing dreams which visited him in March and October during his last three years. But there were certainly other traditions concerning Hobbits that were taken by the 'wandering-madness', and if they ever returned, were afterwards queer and uncommunicable. I walked by the sea, and there came to me as a star-beam on the wet sand, a white shell like a sea-bell; trembling it lay in my wet hand. In my fingers shaken I heared it waken a ding within, by a harbour bar a buoy swinging, a call ringing over endless seas, faint now and far. Then I saw a boat silently float on the night-tide, empty and grey. - 10 - 'It is later than late! Why do we wait?' I lept in and cried:'Bear me away!' It bore me away, wetted with spray, wrapped in mist, wound in a sleep, to a forgotten strand in a strange land. In a twilight beyond the deep I heared a sea-bell swing in the swell, dinging, dinging, and the breaking roar on the hidden teeth of a perilous reef; and at last I came to a long shore. - 20 - White it glimmered, and the sea shimmered with star-mirrors in silver net; cliffs of stone pale as ruel-bone in the moon-foam were gleaming wet. Glittering sand slid through my hand, dust of pearl and jevwel-grist, trumpets of opal, roses of coral, flutes of green and amethyst. But under cliff-eaves there were glooming caves, weed-curtained, dark and grey; - 30 - a cold air stirred in my hair, and the light waned, as I hurried away. Down the hill ran a great rill; its water I drank to my heart's ease. Up the fountain-stair to a country fair of ever-eve I came, far from seas, climbing into meadows of fluttering shadows: flowers lay there like fallen stars, and on a blue pool, grassy and cool, like floating moons the nenuphars. - 40 - Alders were sleeping, and willows weeping by a slow river of rippling weeds; gladdon-swords guarded the fords, and green spears, and arrow-reeds. There was echo of song all the evening long down in the walley; many a thing running to and fro: hares white as snow; voles out of holes; moths on the wing with lantern-eyes; in quiet surprise brocks were staring out of dark doors. - 50 - I heared dancing there, music in the air, feet going quick on the green floors. But whenever I came it was ever the same: The feet fled, and all was still; never a greeting, only the fleeting pipes, voices, horns on the hill. Of river-leaves and the rush-sheaves I made a mantle of jewel-green, a tall wand to hold, and a flag of gold; my eyes shone like the star-sheen. - 60 - With flowers crowned I stood on a mound, and shrill as a call at cock-crow proudly I cried: 'Why do you hide? Why do none speak, wherever I go? Here now I stand, the king of this land, with gladdon-sword and reed-mace. Answer my call! Come forth all! Speak to me words! Show me a face!' Black came a cloud as a night-shroud. Like a dark mole groping I went, - 70 - to the ground falling, on my hands crawling with my eyes blind and my back bent. I crept to a wood: silent it stood in its dead leaves; bare were its boughs. There must I sit, wandering in wit, where owls snored in their hollow house. For a year and a day there must I stay: beetles were tapping in the rotten trees, spiders were weaving, in the mould heaving puffballs loomed about my knees. - 80 - At last there came light in my lonely night, and I saw my hair hanging grey. 'Bent though I be, I must find the sea! I have lost myself, and I know not the way, but let me be gone!' Then I stumbled on; like a hunting bat shadow was over me; in my ears dinned a withering wind, and with ragged briars I tried to cover me. My hands were torn and my knees worn, and years were heavy upon my back, - 90 - when the rain on my face took a salt taste, and I smelled the smell of sea-wreck. Birds came sailing, mewing, wailing; I heared voices in cold caves, seals barking, and rocks snarling, and in spout-holes the gulping of waves. Winter came fast; into a mist I passed; to land's end my years I bore; snow was in air, ice in my hair, darkness was lying on the last shore. - 100 - There still afloat waited the boat, in the tide lifting, its prow tossing. Weary I lay, as it bore me away, the waves climbing, the seas crossing, passing old hulls clustered with gulls and great ships laden with light, coming to haven, dark as a raven, silent as snow, deep as the night. Houses were shuttered, wind round them muttered, roads were empty. I sat by a door, - 110 - and where dizzling rain poured down a drain I cast away all I bore: in my clutching hand some grains of sand, and a sea-shell silent and dead. Never will my ear that bell hear, never my feet that shore tread, never again, as in sad lane, in blind alley and in long street ragged I walk. To myself I talk; for still they speak not, men that I meet. - 120 - ___________________________________________________________________________ Here are some poems by J.R.R.Tolkien in English, and those who are interested ( whatever they may think about translating poetry ) will probably agree that the original is better than even very good translation. Some poems are widely known, others are not. By the way there is one more variant of Oilima Markirya in another Elven ( or close to elven ) tongue; it may be found in the Secret Vice essay. One more thing. A friend of mine said that the Sea-Bell has irregular broken rythm, difficult to read. He didn't know how to do it, of course. Almost all poems here are chant-poems, that is, to be sung slowly or to be read with some slow wordless music on the background. Just try once, and the poem will become a real miracle. _ _ Waes thu hal! ( Be of good health ! ) _________________________________________________________________________