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 of the Paths of the Dead.

     From dark Dunharrow in the dim morning
     with thane and captain rode Thengel's son:
     to Edoras he came, the ancient halls
     of the Mark-wardens mist-enshrouded;
     golden timbers were in gloom mantled.
     Farewell he bade to his free people,
     hearth and high-seat, and the hallowed places,
     where long he had feasted ere the light faded.
     Forth rode the king, fear behind him,
     fate before him. Fealty kept he;
     oaths he had taken, all fulfilled them.
     Forth rode Théoden. Five nights and days
     east and onward rode the Eorlingas
     six thousand spears to Sunlending.
     Mundburg the mighty under Mindolluin,
     Sea-kings' city in the South-kingdom
     foe-beleaguered, fire-encircled.
     Doom drove them on. Darkness took them,
     horse and horseman; hoofbeats afar
     sank into silence: so the song tells us.

     Arise, arise, Riders of Théoden!
     Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!
     spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,
     a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!
     Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!

     Mourn not overmuch! Mighty was the fallen,
     meet was his ending. When his mound is raised,
     women then shall weep. War now calls us!

     Faithful servant yet master´s bane,
     Lightfoot´s foal, swift Snowmane.

     Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's rising
     I came singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.
     To hope's end I rode and to heart's breaking:
     Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall!

     We heard of the horns in the hills ringing,
     the swords shining in the South-kingdom.
     Steeds went striding to the Stoningland
     as wind in the morning. War was kindled.
     There Théoden fell, Thengling mightly,
     to his golden halls and green pastures
     in the Northern fields never returning,
     high lord of the host. Harding and Guthláf,
     Dúnhere and Déorwine, doughty Grimbold,
     Herefara and Herubrand, Horn and Fastred,
     fought and fell there in a far country:
     in the Mounds of Mundburg under mould they lie
     with their league-fellows, lords of Gondor.
     Neither Hirluin the Fair to the hills by the sea,
     nor Forlong the old to the flowering vales
     ever, to Arnach, to his own country
     returned in triumph; nor the tall bowmen,
     Derufin and Duilin, to their dark waters,
     meres of Morthond under mountain-shadows.
     Death in the morning and at day´s ending
     lords took and lowly. Long now they sleep
     under grass in Gondor by the Great River.
     Grey now as tears, gleaming silver,
     red then it rolled, roaring water:
     foam dyed with blood flamed at sunset;
     as beacons mountains burned at evening;
     red fell the dew in Rammas Echor.

     When the black breath blows
     and death's shadow grows
       and all light pass,
     come athelas! come athelas!
       Life of the dying
       In the king's hand lying!

     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 western lands beneath the Sun
     the flowers may rise in Spring,
     the trees may bud, the waters run,
     the merry finches sing.
     Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night
     and swaying beeches bear
     the Elven-stars as jewels white
     amid their branching hair.

     Though here at journey's end I lie
     in darkness burried deep,
     beyond all towers strong and high,
     beyond all mountains steep,
     above all shadows rides the Sun
     and Stars for ever dwell:
     I will not say the Day is done,
     nor bid the Stars farewell.

     Long live the Halflings! Praise them with great praise!
     Cuio i Pheriain anann! Aglar'ni Pheriannath!
     Praise them sith great praise, Frodo and Samwise!
     Daur a Berhael, Conin en Annun! Eglerio!
     Praise them!
     Eglerio!
     A laita te, laita te! Andave laituvalmet!
     Praise them!
     Cormacolindor, a laita tarienna!
     Praise them! The ring-bearers, praise them with great praise!

     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 Eressëa, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,
     Where the leaves fall not: land of my people for ever!

     Sing now, ye people of the Tower of Anor,
     for the Realm of Sauron is ended for ever,
       and the Dark Tower is thrown down.
     
     Sing and rejoice, ye people of the Tower of Guard,
     for your watch hath not been in vain,
     and the Black Gate is broken,
     and your King hath passed through,
       and he is victorious.

     Sing and be glad, all ye children of the West,
     for your King shall come again,
     and he shall dwell among you
       all the days of your life.

     And the Tree that was withered shall be renewed,
     and he shall plant it in the high places,
       and the City shall be blessed.

     Sing all ye people!

     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.

     The Road goes ever on and on 
     Out form the door where it began. 
     Now far ahead the Road has gone, 
     Let others follow it who can! 
     Let them a journey new begin, 
     But I at last with weary feet 
     Will turn towards the lighted inn, 
     My evening-rest and sleep to meet. 

     Still round the corner there may wait
     A new road or a secret gate;
     And though I oft have passed them by,
     A day will come at last when I
     Shall take the hidden paths that run
     West of the Moon, East of the Sun.

     A! Elbereth Gilthoniel!
     silivren penna miriel
     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.