The Song of Eärendil (parts I - III)

Eärendil 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 chainéd rings he armoured him

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

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

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 upon her carcanet

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 with biting breath

As might of death across the grey

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 heard on strands of pearl

Where ends the world the music long

Where ever-foaming billows roll

The yellow gold and jewels wan

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

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

He came unto the timeless halls

Where shining fall the countless years

And endless reigns the Elder King

In Ilmarin on 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 Elbereth Gilthoniel!

Silivren penna míriel

O menel aglar elenath

Gilthoniel, A! Elbereth!

We still remember, we who dwell

In this far land beneath the trees

The starlight on the Western Seas

A ship then new they built for him

Of mithril and of elven-glass

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

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 there 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

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 orbéd star

To pass, and tarry never more

On Hither Shores where Mortals are

For ever still a herald on

An errand that should never rest

To bear his shining lamp afar

The Flammifer of Westernesse