Songs from the Fellowship of the Ring

The Old Walking Song.

(said by Bilbo upon leaving for Rivendell)

The Road goes ever on and on,
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the road has gone
And I must follow, if I can
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet,
And wither then? I cannot say.

Verse of the Ring

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.

The Old Walking Song II

(sung by Frodo upon leaving for Crickhollow.)

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can.
Pursuing it with weary feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet,
And wither then? I cannot say.

Upon the Hearth…

(sung by Frodo, Sam and Pippin on the way to Buckland)

Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still round the corner we may meet
A sudden tree or standing stone
That none have passed but me alone.
Tree and flower and leaf and grass
Let them pass! Let them pass!
Hill and water under sky,
Pass them by! Pass them by!

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though we pass them by today,
Tomorrow we may come this way
And take the hidden paths that run
Towards the Moon or to the Sun.
Apple thorn, and nut and sloe,
Let them go! Let them go!
Sand and stone and pool and dell,
Fare you well! Fare you well!

Home is behind, the world ahead
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Then world behind and home ahead,
We’ll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp and meat and bread
And then to bed! And then to bed!

Elven Hymn to Elbereth Gilthoniel

(Sung by the elves that Frodo, Sam and Pippin meet on the way to Buckland)

Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear!
O queen beyond the Western Seas!
O Light to us that wander here
Amid the world of woven trees!

Gilthoniel! O Elbereth!
Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath!
Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee
In a far land beyond the Sea.

O stars that in the Sunless Year
With shining hand by her were sown,
In windy fields now bright and clear
We see your silver blossom blown!

O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!
We still remember we who dwell!
In this far land beneath the trees
They starlight on the Western Seas.

A Drinking Song

(Sung by Pippin and Sam on the way to Buckland)

Ho! Ho! Ho! to the bottle I
To heal my heart and drown my woe.
Rain may fall and wind may blow,
And many miles be still to go,
Bull under a tall tree I shall lie
And let the clouds go sailing by.

Below is the version of the same song sung by Pippin and Merry in the film version of FOTR:

Ho! Ho! Ho! To the bottle I go
To heal my heart and drown my woe.
Rain may fall and wind may blow,
And many miles be still to go.
Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain,
And the stream that falls from hill to plain
But better than rain or rippling brook
Is a mug of beer inside this Took!

The Bath Song

(By Pippin in Crickhollow)

Sing hey! For the bath at the close of day
that washes the weary mud away!
A loon is he that will not sing:
O! water hot is a noble thing!

O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain,
and the brook that leaps from hill to plain;
but better than rain or rippling streams
is Water Hot that smokes and steams.

O! Water cold we may pour at need
down a thirsty throat and be glad indeed;
but better is Beer, if drink we lack,
and Water Hot poured down the back.

O! Water is fair that leaps on high
in a fountain white beneath the sky;
But never did fountain sound so sweet
As splashing Hot Water with my feet!

‘There was a terrific splash and a shout of whoa! from Frodo. It appeared that a lot of Pippin’s bath water had imitated a fountain and leaped on high.’

Farewell Song of Merry and Pippin

(Upon the Hobbits leaving for Rivendell)

Farewell we call to hearth and hall!
Though wind may blow and rain may fall,
We must away ere break of day
To Rivendell, where Elves yet dwell
In glades beneath the misty fell,
Through moor and waste we ride in haste,
And wither then we cannot tell.

With foes ahead, behind us dread,
Beneath the sky shall be our bed,
Until at last our toil be passed,
Our journey done, our errand sped.

We must away! We must away!
We ride before the break of day!

A Walking Song

O! Wanderers in the shadowed land
despair not! For though dark they stand,
all woods there be must end at last,
and see the open sun go past:
the setting sun, the rising sun,
the day’s end, or the day begun
For east or west all woods must fail...

Tom Bombadil’s Songs.

Hey dol! Merry dol! ring a dong dillo!
Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the Willow!
Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo.

Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! My darling!
Light goes the weather-wind and the feathered starling.
Down along under Hill, shining in the cold sunlight,
Waiting on the doorstop for the cold starlight,
There my pretty lady is, River-woman’s daughter,
Slender as the willow-wand, clearer than the water.
Old Tom Bombadil water-lilies bringing
Comes hopping home again. Can you hear him singing?
Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol and merry-o
Goldberry, Goldberry, merry yellow berry-o!
Poor old Willow-man you tuck your roots away!
Tom’s in a hurry now. Evening will follow day.
Tom’s going home again water-lilies bringing.

Hop along, my little friends, up the Withywindle!
Tom’s going on ahead candles for to kindle.
Down west sinks the Sun: soon you will be groping,
When the night-shadows fall, then the door will open,
Out of the window-panes light will twinkle yellow.
Fear no alder black! Heed no hoary willow!
Fear neither root nor bough! Tom goes on before you.
Hey now! merry dol! We’ll be waiting for you!

Now let the song begin! Let us sing together
O! sun, stars, moon and mist, rain and cloudy weather,
Light on the budding leaf, dew upon the feather,
Wind on the open hill, bells on the heather,
Reeds by the shady pool, lilies on the water:
Old Tom Bombadil and the River-daughter!

(Frodo sings to Goldberry)

O slender as a willow-wand! O clearer than clear water!
O reed by the living pool! Fair river daughter!
O spring-time and summer-time and spring again after!
O wind on the waterfall and the leaves’ laughter!

(Tom sings about finding the hobbits.)

I had an errand there: gathering water-lilies,
green leaves and lilies white to please my pretty lady,
the last ere the ears end to keep them from the winter,
to flower by her pretty feet till the snows are melted.
Each year at summer’s end I go to find them for her,
In a wide pool, deep and clear, far down the Withywindle;
There they open first in spring and there they linger latest.
By that pool long ago I found the River-daughter,
Fair young Goldberry sitting in the rushes,
Sweet was her singing then, and her heart was beating!
And it proved well for you - for now I shall no longer
Go down deep again along the forest-water,
Not while the year is old. Nor shall I be passing
Old Man Willow’s house this side of spring-time,
Not till the merry spring, when the River-daughter
Dances down the withy path to bathe in the water

(Tom teaches the Hobbits a song to sing if they are in trouble)

Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo! B
By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow,
By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us!
Come Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us!

(Tom comes to the Hobbits’ rescue (again))

Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow,
Bright blue his jacket is and his boots are yellow,
None has ever caught him yet, for Tom he is the master:
His songs are stronger songs, and his feet are faster.

(Tom’s summons)

Get out you old Wight! Vanish in the sunlight!
Shrivel like the cold mist, like the winds go wailing,
Out in the barren lands far beyond the mountains!
Come never here again! Leave your barrow empty!
Lost and forgotten be, darker than the darkness,
Where gates stand forever shut, till the world is mended.

Wake now my merry lads! Wake and hear me calling!
Warm now be heart and limb! The cold stone is fallen:
Dark door is standing wide: dead hand is broken.
Night under Night is flown, and the Gate is open!

(Tom calls to the ponies)

Hey! now! Come hoy now! Whither do you wander?
Up, down, near or far, here there and yonder?
Sharp-ears, Wise nose, Swish tail and Bumpkin,
White socks my little lad, and old Fatty Lumpkin!

Tom’s country ends here: he will not pass the borders.
Tom has his house to mind, and Goldberry is waiting!

Wight’s Chant

Cold be hand and heart and bone,
and cold be sleep under stone:
never more to wake on stony bed,
never, till the sun fails and the Moon in dead.
In the black wind the stars shall die,
brand still on gold here let them lie,
till the dark lord lifts his hand
over dead sea and withered land.

(Gollum recites a different version of this chant in the film version of the Two Towers:)

Cold be hand and heart and bone
And cold be travellers far from home.
They do not know what lies ahead
When sun has failed and moon is dead...

There is an inn...

(Frodo sings in the Prancing Pony)

There is an inn, a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown,
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill.

The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he runs his bow,
Now squeaking highs, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle.

The landlord keeps a little dog
that is mighty fond of jokes;
When there’s good cheer among the guests
He cocks an ear at all the jests
and laughs until he chokes.

They also keep a hornéd cow
as proud as any queen:
But music makes her head like ale,
And makes her wave her tufted tale
and dance upon the green.

And O! the rows of sliver dishes
and the store of sliver spoons!
For Sunday there’s a special pair
And these they polish up with care
on Saturday afternoons.

The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
and the cat began to wail;
A dish and a spoon on the table danced,
The cow in the garden madly pranced
and the little dog chased his tail.

The Man in the Moon took another mug
and then rolled beneath his chair;
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
Till in the sky the stars were pale,
and dawn was in the air.

Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:
‘The white horses of the Moon,
They neigh and champ their silver bits;
But their master’s been and drowned his wits,
and the Sun’ll be rising soon!’

So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle diddle,
a jig that would wake the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened that tune
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
‘It’s after three!’ he said.

They rolled the Man slowly up the hill
and bundled him into the Moon,
While his horses galloped up in rear,
And the cow came capering like a deer,
and a dish ran up with the spoon.

Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
the dog began to roar,
The cow and the horses stood on the their heads;
The guests all bounded from their beds
and danced upon the floor.

With a ping and a pong the fiddle-strings broke!
the cow jumped over the Moon,
And the little dog laughed to see such fun,
And the Saturday dish went off at a run
with the silver Sunday spoon.

The round Moon rolled behind the hill,
as the Sun raised up her head.
She hardly believed her fiery eyes
For though it was day, to her surprise
they all went back to bed!

The Riddle of Strider

(quoted by Gandalf in his letter to Frodo, and by Bilbo at the Council of Elrond)

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not touched by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

The Fall of Gil-galad

‘Suddenly a low voice murmured:

Gil-galad was an Elven-king,
Of him the harpers sadly sing:
The last whose realm was fair and free
Between the Mountains and the Sea

His sword was long, his lance was keen,
His shining helm afar was seen:
The countless stars of heaven’s field
Were mirrored in his sliver shield.

But long ago he road away,
And where he dwelleth none can say:
For into darkness fell his star
In Mordor where the shadows are.

The others turned in amazement, for the voice was Sam’s.
‘Don’t stop!’ said Merry.
‘That’s all I know,’ stammered Sam, blushing. ‘I learned it from Mr Bilbo when I was a lad. He used to tell me tales like that, knowing how I was always one for hearing about Elves. It was Mr Bilbo was taught me my letters. He was mighty book-learned was dear old Mr Bilbo. And he wrote poetry.'

The Song of Beren and Luthien

Recited by Strider at Weathertop

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.
Tinúviel 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,
Of music welling underground,
In hidden hollows quavering.
Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,
And one by one with sighing sound
Whispering fell the beachen 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, an at her feet was strewn
A mist of sliver 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,
Tinúviel! Tinúviel!
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 Tinúviel
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.
Tinúviel the elven-fair,
Immortal maiden elven-wise,
About him cast her shadowy hair
And arms like sliver glimmering.

Long was the way that fate them bore,
O'er stony mountains cold and grey,
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.

Sam's Rhyme of the Troll

(Sung afterseeing 'Bilbo's trolls' on the way to Rivendell)

This can be sung to the tune of the English folk tune: 'the fox is away from his den-o.'

Troll sat alone on his seat of stone,
And munched and mumbled a bare old bone;
For many a year he had gnawed it near,
For meat was hard to come by.
Dine by! Gum by!
In a cave in the hills he dwelt alone,
And meat was hard to come by.

Up came Tom with his big boots on,
Said he to Troll: 'Pray, what is yon?
For it looks like the shin o' my nuncle Tim,
As should be a -lyin' in a graveyard.
Caveyard! Paveyard!
This many a year has Tim been gone,
And I thought he were lyin' in a graveyard.'

'My lad,' said Troll, 'this bone I stole.
But what be bones that lie in a hole?
Thy nuncle was dead as a lump of lead,
Afore I found his shinbone,
Tinbone! Thinbone!
He can spare a share for a poor old troll,
For he don't need his shinbone.'

Says Tom: 'I don't see why the likes o' thee
Without axin' leave should go makin' free
With the shank or the shin o' my father's kin
So hand the old bone over!
Rover! Trover!
Though dead he be, it belongs to he;
So hand the old bone over!'

'For a couple o' pins,' says Troll, and grins,
'I'll eat thee too, and gnaw thy shins.
A bit o' fresh meat will go down sweet!
I'll try my teeth on thee now.
Hee now! See now!
I'm tired o' gnawing old bones and skins;
I've a mind to done on thee now,'

But just as he thought his dinner was caught,
He found his hands had hold of naught.
Before he could mind, Tom slipped behind
And gave him the boot to larn him.
Warn him! Darn him!
A bump o' the boot on the seat, Tom thought,
Would be the way to larn him.

But harder than stone is the flesh and bone
Of a troll that sits in the hills alone.
As well set your boot to the mountain's root,
For the seat of a troll don't feel it.
Peel it Heal it!
Old Troll laughed, when he heard Tom groan,
And he knew his toes could feel it.

Tom's leg is game since home he came,
And his bootless foot is lasting lame;
But Troll don't care, and he's still there
With the bone that he boned from its owner.
Doner! Boner!
Troll's old seat is still the same,
And the bone he boned from its owner!

'Where did you come by that Sam?' asked Pippin. 'I've never heard those words before.'
Sam muttered something inaudible. 'It's out of his own head of course,' said Frodo. 'I am learning a lot about Sam Gamgee on this journey. First he was a conspirator, now he's a jester. He'll end up by becoming a wizard - or a warrior!
'I hope not,' said Sam. 'I don't want to be neither!'

Song of Eärendil

(Sung by Bilbo in the Hall in Rivendell)

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 sliver 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;
is shining shield was scored with runes
to ward all wounds and harm from him;
his bow was made of dragon-horn,
his arrows shot 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 came to the 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 I 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 across the grey
And long forsaken Seas distressed:
From east to west he passed away.

Through Evernight he back was borne
on black and raring 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 even 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 who dwell therein.

A ship new they built for him
of Mithril and of elven-glass
with shining prow; no shaven oar
nor sail she bore o 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 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 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
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.

Elven Hymn to Elbereth Gilthoniel II

(Sung in the hall at Rivendell)

A Elbereth Gilthoniel,
silivren penna míriel
o menel aglar elenath!
Na-chaered palan-díriel
o galadhremmin ennorath,
Fanulios, le linnathon
nef aear, si nef aeron

Boromir's Riddle

(Recited in the Council of Elrond)

Seek for the Sword that was broken:
In Imladris it dwells;
There shall be counsels taken
Stronger than Morgul-spells.
There shall be shown a token
That Doom is near at hand,
For Isildur's Bane shall waken,
And the Halfling forth shall stand.

Warning of Winter

(Bilbo worries about the Fellowship)

When winter first begins to bite
and stones crack in the frosty night,
when pools are black and trees are bare,
'tis evil in the Wild to fare.

Bilbo's song

(Sung in Rivendell)

I sit beside the fire and think
of all that I have seen,
of meadow flowers and butterflies
in summers that have been;
Of yellow leaves and gossamer
in autumns that there were,
with morning mist and sliver sun
and wind upon my hair.

I sit beside the fire and think
of how the world will be
when winter comes without a spring
that I shall ever see.

For still there are so many things
that I have never seen:
in every wood in every spring
there is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think
of people long ago,
and people who will see a world
that I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think
of times there were before,
I listen for returning feet
and voices at the door.

Song of Durin

(Recited by Gimli in the mines of Moria)

The world was young, the mountains green,
No stain yet on the Moon was seen,
No words were laid on stream or stone
When Durin woke and walked alone.
He named the nameless hills and dells;
He stooped and looked in Mirrowmere,
And saw a crown of stars appear,
As gems upon a sliver thread,
Above the shadow of his head.

The world was fair, the mountains tall,
In Elder Days before the fall
Of mighty kings in Nargothrond
And Gondolin, who now beyond
The Western Seas have passed away:
The world was fair in Durin's Day.

A king he was on caver throne
In many-pillared halls on stone
With golden roof and silver floor,
And runes of power upon the door.
The light of sun and star and moon
In shining lamps of crystal hewn
Undimmed by cloud or shade of night
There shone for ever fair and bright.

There hammer on the anvil smote,
There chisel clove, and graver wrote;
There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;
The delver mined, the mason built,
There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,
And metal wrought like fishes' mail,
Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,
And shining spears were laid in hoard.

Unwearied then were Durin's folk;
Beneath the mountain music woke:
The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,
And at the gates the trumpets rang.

The world is grey, the mountains old,
The forge's fire is ashen-cold;
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:
The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;
The shadow lies upon his tomb
In Moria, in Khazad-dûm.
But still the sunken stars appear
In dark and windless Mirrowmere;
There lies his crown in water deep,
Till Durin wakes again from sleep.

'I like that!' said Sam. 'I should like to learn it. In Moria, in Khazad-dûm! But it makes the darkness seem heavier, thinking of all those lamps. Are there piles of jewels and gold lying about here still?'
Gimli was silent. Having sung his song he would say no more.

Song of Nimrodel

'Do you hear the voice of Nimrodel?' asked Legolas. 'I will sing to you a song of the maiden Nimrodel, who bore the same name as the stream beside which she lived long ago.'
In a soft voice, hardly heard amid the rustle of the leaves above them he began:

An Elven-maid there was of old,
A shining star by day:
Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,
Her shoes of silver grey.

A star was bound upon her brows,
A light was in her hair
As sun upon the golden boughs
In Lórien the fair.

Her hair was long, her limbs were white,
And fair she was and free;
And in the wind she went as light
As leaf of linden-tree.

Beside the falls of Nimrodel,
By water clear and cool,
Her voice as falling silver fell
Into the shining pool.

Where now she wanders none can tell,
In sunlight or in shade;
For lost of yore was Nimrodel
And in the mountains strayed.

The elven-ship in haven grey
Beneath the mountain-lee
Awaited her for many a day
Beside the roaring sea.

A wind by night in Northern lands
Arose, and loud it cried,
And drove the ship from elven-strands
Across the streaming tide.

When dawn came dim the land was lost,
The mountains sinking grey
Beyond the heaving waves that tossed
Their plumes of blinding spray.

Amroth beheld the fading shore
Now low beyond the swell,
And cursed the ship that bore
Him far from Nimrodel.

Of old he was an Elven-king,
A lord of tree and glen,
When golden were the boughs in spring
In fair Lothlórien.

From helm to sea they saw him leap,
As arrow from the string,
And dive unto the water deep,
As mew upon the wing.

The wind was in his flowing hair,
The foam about him shone;
Afar they saw him strong and fair
Go riding like a swan.

But from the West has come no word,
And on the Hither Shore
No tidings Elven-folk have heard
Of Amroth evermore.

Frodo's Lament for Gandalf

It was Frodo who first put something of his sorrow into halting words… As he sat beside the fountain in Lórien and heard about him the vices of the Elves, his thought took shape in a song that seemed fair to him; yet when he tried to repeat it to Sam only snatches remained, faded as a handful of withered leaves.

When evening in the Shire was grey
his footsteps on the Hill were heard;
before the dawn he went away
on journey without a word.

From Wilderland to Western shore,
from northern waste to southern hill,
through dragon-lair and hidden door
and darkling woods he walked at will.

With Dwarf and Hobbit, Elves and Men,
with mortal and immortal folk,
with bird on bough and beast in den,
in their own secret tongues he spoke.

A deadly sword, a healing hand,
a back that bent beneath its load;
a trumpet-voice, a burning brand,
a weary pilgrim on the road.

A lord of wisdom throned he sat,
swift in anger, quick to laugh;
an old man in a battered hat
who leaned upon a thorny staff.

He stood upon the bridge alone
and Fire and Shadow both defied;
his staff was broken on the stone,
in Khazad-dûm his wisdom died.

'Why, you'll be beating Mr Bilbo next!' said Sam.
'No, I am afraid not,' said Frodo, 'But this is the best I can do yet.'
'Well, Mr Frodo, if you do have another go, I hope you'll say a word about his fireworks,' said Sam. 'Something like this:

The finest rockets ever seen:
they burst in stars of blue and green,
or after thunder golden showers
came falling like a rain of flowers.

Galadriel's song of Eldamar

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 Lórien! The Winter comes, the bar and leafless Day;
The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away.
O Lórien! Too long have I 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 back across so wide a sea?

Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrinen
Yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron!
Yéni ve lintë yuldar avánier
mi oromardi lisse-miruvóreva
Andúnë pella, Vardo tellumar
nu luini yassen tintilar I eleni
omaryo airetári-lirinen.

Sí man I yulma nin enquantuva?

An sí Tintallë Varda Oiolossëo
ve fanyar máryat Elentári ortanë
ar ilyë tier undulávë lumbulë;
ar sindanóriello caita mornië
i falmalinnar imbë met ar hísië
untúpa alaciryo míri oialë.
Sí vanwa nú, Rómello vanwa, Valimar!

Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar.
Nai elyë hiruva. Namárië!

'Ah like the gold fall the leaves in the wind, long years numberless as the wings of trees! The long years have passed like swift draughts of the sweet meat in lofty halls beyond the West, beneath the blue vaults of Varda wherein the stars tremble in the song of her voice, holy and queenly. Who now shall refill the cup for me? For now the Kindler, Varda, the Queen of the Stars, from Mount Everwhite has uplifted her hands like clouds, and all paths are drowned deep in shadow; and out of a grey country darkness lies on the foaming waves between us, and mist covers the jewels of Calacirya for ever. Now lost, lost to those from the East is Valimar! Farewell! Maybe thou shalt find Valimar! Farewell! Maybe thou shalt find Valimar. Maybe even thou shalt find it. Farewell!' Varda is the name of that Lady whom the Elves in these lands of exile name Elbereth.