Favourite Tolkien poetry - The Poetry of Tolkien; The Lays of Beleriand, The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, The Adventures of Tom Bombadil

[Fingolfin]

Hello!

Thought I would ask folk which their favourite.

Tolkien has many amazing poems along with songs in his writings, if anyone has read the Adventures of Tom Bombadil, they would know his works in regards to poetry.
If not, I highly recommend reading it. It is an amazing little read plus the artwork for the book is rather simple yet lovely.

My personal favourites are

Spoiler: Under the Mountain dark and tall

Under the Mountain dark and tall
The King has come unto his hall!
His foe is dead, the Worm of Dread,
And ever so his foes shall fall.

The sword is sharp, the spear is long,
The arrow swift, the Gate is strong;
The heart is bold that looks on gold;
The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong.

Spoiler: The Lay of Leithian

A king there was in days of old:
ere Men yet walked upon the mould
his power was reared in caverns' shade,
his hand was over glen and glade.
Of leaves his crown, his mantle green,
his silver lances long and keen;
the starlight in his shield was caught,
ere moon was made or sun was wrought.

Spoiler: Namárië

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
ómaryo airetári-lírinen.

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 Calaciryo míri oialë.
Sí vanwa ná, Rómello vanwa, Valimar!

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

Though am interested in folk making poetry that fits into Arda, fan made poetry that fits Arda can be pretty fun to read, tis not poetry but I remember someone writing a song about the Fall of Gondolin, but for the life of me cannot remember where I found it.

 

[Chicha Drinker]

Ride.of the Rohirrim

Suddenly the king cried to Snowmane and the horse sprang away. Behind him his banner blew in the wind, white horse upon a field of green, but he outpaced it. After him thundered the knights of his house, but he was ever before them. Éomer rode there, the white horsetail on his helm floating in his speed, and the front of the first éored roared like a breaker foaming to the shore, but Théoden could not be overtaken.

Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins, and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Oromë the Great in the battle of the Valar when the world was young.

His golden shield was uncovered, and lo! it shone like an image of the Sun, and the grass flamed into green about the white feet of his steed. For morning came, morning and a wind from the sea; and darkness was removed, and the hosts of Mordor wailed, and terror took them, and they fled, and died, and the hoofs of wrath rode over them. And then all the host of Rohan burst into song, and they sang as they slew, for the joy of battle was on them

 

[A Very Big Fish]

The Lament of the Rohirrim, personally, I prefer the version from the films.

Where is the horse and the rider?
Where is the horn that was blowing?
They have passed like rain on the mountains,
like wind in the meadow.
The days have gone down in the West,
behind the hills... into Shadow.​

And the other I love is I Sit Beside the Fire and Think

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 silver 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.​

 

[Fingolfin]

The Lament of the Rohirrim, personally, I prefer the version from the films.



And the other I love is I Sit Beside the Fire and Think

The Lament of the Rohirrim IS <3

The films do some good in regards to Rohan when it comes to that, however I wish they added more, especially Legolas singing about the Sea calling him home to the Undying Lands or the Lament for Boromir.

 

[Goonon]

I'm not much into poems but the versions in the animated Hobbit movie are pure kino. I mean listen to this and tell me you don't feel like you're listening in on the meeting at Bilbo's place. Couldn't stomach much of the live action movies, but I'm sure they don't have any of the whimsy or magic that make this story enjoyable. Perhaps one of you proper Tolkein-spergs can confirm or deny?

 

[Meat Target]

Who needs Viagra when the Last March of the Ents exists?

We come, we come with roll of drum: ta-runda runda runda rom!
We come, we come with horn and drum:ta-rūna rūna rūna rom!
To Isengard! Though Isengard be ringed and barred with doors of stone;
Though Isengard be strong and hard, as cold as stone and bare as bone,
We go, we go, we go to war, to hew the stone and break the door;
For bole and bough are burning now, the furnace roars - we go to war!
To land of gloom with tramp of doom, with roll of drum, we come, we come;
To Isengard with doom we come!
With doom we come, with doom we come!

 

[Overly Serious]

As someone who loves both Tolkien and Poetry, I feel sorrow in saying that the man was not a great poet. It's why his best poems are in service to his prose, for example the Lament for the Rohirrim quoted above. It's short and is integrated into the story and gains its power from that.

Similarly his most famous poem that I'm surprised nobody has mentioned:

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
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.

Weirdly, his most sophisticated poem (not saying it's especially sophisticated, mind) is the song Frodo sings in The Fellowship of the Ring:

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.

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!

Honestly, the best Tolkien poem, dealing with change, time and the land and peoples, is the Ballad of the White Horse by G K Chesterton. Obviously Tolkien didn't write this, but it's still the most Tolkien poem I know.

 

[A Very Big Fish]

Honestly, the best Tolkien poem, dealing with change, time and the land and peoples, is the Ballad of the White Horse by G K Chesterton. Obviously Tolkien didn't write this, but it's still the most Tolkien poem I know.

You can tell Tolkien didn't write it because he actually hated it, and thought that, "G. K. C. knew nothing whatever about the 'North', heathen or Christian."

Granted, I disagree with Tolkien. I think the Ballad of the White Horse is great. From how Colan and his Irish troops are described:

For the great Gaels of Ireland
Are the men that God made mad,
For all their wars are merry,
And all their songs are sad.​

To how the various leaders of Alfred's forces request their bodies be handled if they fall in battle, my favorite being Mark the Roman's:

​

"Lift not my head from bloody ground,
Bear not my body home,
For all the earth is Roman earth
And I shall die in Rome."​

Also, since Mark is supposed to represent Rome's influence on Britain, and specifically the rational side of faith, when he fights Elf, the pagan mystic, he's basically able to just face-tank Elf's magic spear and kill him, because the logic that leads him to God basically nullifies the pagan gods Elf serves, whereas Conlan, and Eldred, view the pagan deities as demons, but not without power, but because Mark just doesn't, he just beats the shit out of Elf.

Which is nuts, and I love it.

 

[Overly Serious]

You can tell Tolkien didn't write it because he actually hated it, and thought that, "G. K. C. knew nothing whatever about the 'North', heathen or Christian."

Woah! My mind is blown! Two of my favourite literary figures were at odds? Tolkien hated the Ballad of the White Horse?

Were I not already sitting on a chair, I would now be sitting on the floor. LotR and BotWH are two of my favourite works of English literature and the authors of each were taking potshots at each other? I do not know what to make of this.

 

[Otterly]

do not know what to make of this.

I’m going to repeat (with absolutely no knowledge myself) what my old English teacher said about this matter so I sound like i know what I’m talking about . Tolkien was generally Ok with Chesterton, Tolkien was a massive early medieval and Norse etc sperg and though Chesterton didn’t have enough knowledge and he wasn’t a fan of overt apologia. I dont think he hated it, he just was really, really knowledgeable about the period and didn’t like apologia.
Otherwise they would be fun to have round for dinner I think. Hell of a fight for the last piece of cake

 

[Dead Lion]

A pedestrian choice but "The world was young, the mountains green", a.k.a the song of Durin.

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 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 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 carven throne
In many-pillared halls of 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 mountains 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 Mirrormere;
There lies his crown in water deep,
Till Durin wakes again from sleep.

The way it turns into present tense for the final stanza is just genius, really drives the point home.

 

[Tequila Jong]

The City of Present Sorrow
From The Book of Lost Tales 2 Chaper IV: The History of Eriol or Ælfwine

There is a city that far distant lies
And a vale outcarven in forgotten days –
There wider was the grass, and the lofty elms more rare;
The river-sense was heavy in the lowland air.
There many willows changed the aspect of the earth and skies
Where feeding brooks wound in by sluggish ways,
And down the margin of the sailing Thames
Around his broad old bosom their old stems
Were bound, and subtle shades lay on his streams
Where their grey leaves adroop o’er silver pools
Did knit a coverlet like shimmering jewels
Of blue and misty green and filtering gleams.

O agéd city of all too brief sojourn,
I see thy clustered windows each one burn
With lamps and candles of departed men.
The misty stars thy crown, the night thy dress,
Most peerless-magical thou dost possess
My heart, and old days come to life again;
Old mornings dawn, or darkened evenings bring
The same old twilight noises from the town.
Thou hast the very core of longing and delight,
To thee my spirit dances oft in sleep
Along thy grey streets, or down
A little lamplit alley-way at night –
Thinking no more of cities it has known,
Forgetting for a while the tree-girt keep,
And town of dreams, where men no longer sing.
For thy heart knows, and thou shedst many tears
For all sorrow of these evil years.
Thy thousand pinnacles and fretted spires
Are lit with echoes and lambent fires
Of many companies of bells that ring
Rousing pale visions of majestic days
The windy years have strewn down different ways;
And in thy walls still doth thy spirit sing
Songs of old memory amid thy present tears,
Or hope of days to come half-sad with many fears.
Lo! Though along thy paths no laughter runs
While war untimely takes thy many sons,
No tide of evil can thy glory drown
Robed in sad majesty, the stars thy crown.

There isn't a wasted line in this entire poem, and I find the entire thing so profoundly beautiful and melancholy. If you've ever known the heartache of watching a place you truly love be killed over the years for whatever reason, you can easily relate.

 

[Dragged Into Sunlight]

Song of the Maiden Nimrodel is my favorite

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 on her hair
As sun upon the golden boughs
In Lórien the fair.

Her hair was long, her limbs where 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 long beyond the swell,
And cursed the faithless 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 into 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.

 

[Dragged Into Sunlight]

The Barrow Wight poem is also great

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 is dead.
In the black wind the stars shall die,
and still on gold here let them lie,
till the dark lord lifts up his hand
over dead sea and withered land.