Post by Dragoneyes on Jul 20, 2003 11:37:08 GMT -5
I really like that one too, but you couldn't have this thread without putting a good Hobbit song on it. Or to be more precise, a good Bilbo song. Can you guess what I'm going to say?
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. Persuing it with eager feet, until it joins some larger way where many paths and errands meet, and whither then? I cannot say!
Don't blame me if the punctuation is a bit off; I'm doing it from memory.
Post by Lossentilien on Oct 23, 2003 13:16:31 GMT -5
It was kind of inspired by this-
"And for that, we remember the mortal who fell to earth to eternal damnation. Would any of God's angels find him? Shall we light a candle for him?"
About a character in an Anne Rice book. Cause he's a vampire, and therefor thinks he's incapable of good, and that he is damned to hell. But it also has reference to Memnoch, who was (according to Rice's novel) one of God's angels, who fell from heaven and became 'the devil'.
Absinthe is the aphrodisiac of the self. The green fairy who lives in the absinthe wants your soul. But you are safe with me.
There is an inn, a merry old inn, Beneath a grey old 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, Who plays a five-stringed fiddle. And up and down he runs his bow, Now squeaking high, 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 amongst 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 turns her head like ale, And makes her wave her tufted tale, And dance upon the green.
And O! The rows of silver dishes, And the store of silver 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, And the cow in the garden madly pranced, And the little dog chased his tail.
The Man in the moon took another mug, And 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.
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 his tune, When 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 in the rear, And the cow came campering like a deer, and a dish ran up with a spoon.
Now quicker the fiddle went 'deedle-dum-diddle' The dog began to roar, They and the horses stood on their heads, The guests all bounded from their beds, and danced upon the floor.
With a ping and a pong the fiddle-stings broke, The cow jumped over the moon, And the little dog laughed to see such fun And the Saturday dish went off at 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!
Eeps! I didn't miss anything did I? I tried to do it from memory...
Anyway, another one I really like is The Barrow-Wight incantation
Cold be hand and heart and bone, And cold be sleep under stone. Never more to wake on stony bed, Never til Sun has failed and Moon is dead.
In the black wind the stars shall die, And still on gold here let them lie, Til the Dark Lord lifts his hand, Over dead sea and withered land.
My fav song from LOTR is Durin's song. It goes like this:
The world was green, the mountains young No stain yet on the moon was seen No names were laid on stream or stone When Durin waked and walked alone He named the nameless hills and dwells He drank from yet untasted wells He stooped and looked in Mirrormere And saw a crown of stars appear As gems upon a silver thread Above the shadow of his head
The world is grey, the mountains old The forge's fire is ashen cold No harp is rung, no hammer falls, THe darkness dwells in Durin's halls The shadow lies upon his tomb In Moria, in Khazad-dum, But still, the sunken stars appear, In dark and windless Mirrormere There lies his crown in water deep Til Durin wakes again from his sleep.
Last Edit: Nov 30, 2003 10:34:16 GMT -5 by BKnight
The world was green, the mountains young The world is grey, the mountains old
Post by Firondoiel on Nov 30, 2003 19:07:39 GMT -5
These are all wonderful! Well of course they are! They're Tolkien! ;D My absolute favourite would have to be the Lay of Leithain though....
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 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 shimmering. 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-flower 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 upon 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 the mirror 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’re 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.
I do have this memorized but I'm afraid I copied and pasted it from another site because I don't have time right now to type it all up.