One Son of Gondor & Dome of Stars
Dec. 19th, 2009 10:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Saddled and bridled
And gallant rode he;
Home came his brother.
But never came he
The first here has a horse-riding rhythm for Boromir's ill-fated journey, who would never come home again and whose father would never recover from the blow. The second mourns Osgiliath and its broken dome, the lost city by the river with its abandoned artistry and bridges.
One Son of Gondor
Out from the battle
And fresh from the fray,
One son of Gondor
Rode out on a day
Saddled and bridled
And gallant rode he;
Home came his brother.
But never came he.
Out came his father
Stern in his power
And out came the guardsmen
Of pearl-white tower;
Their trumpets silver
Would surely be blown,
But one son of Gondor
Will never come home.
Saddled and bridled
And booted rode he,
A horn to his hand
And sword by his knee.
To them came the horn
All broken in twain,
Splitted asunder
As hard heart in pain.
Hard heart will shatter
When struck with a blow,
No softness nor bending
Will it ever know.
Lay down the pieces
Before the White Tree
His brother returned
But never came he.
Pride of his father,
Hale and strong
This bright golden son
Who could do no wrong.
Golden the favor
That sent him to roam;
But one son of Gondor
Will never come home.
-
Dome of Stars
Now came the Enemy on, as evening grey
Did wrap the emptied city in its blind cloak.
Silence accompanied, for beast and bird,
Maid, matron, child – all these driven out, lay now
Far off and weeping. Only wakeful watching stars knew
The dark fingers upon the broken streets.
In silence they shone. How the firmament flares
With living fires above, sparks unseen by Men –
The starry host shining brightest through the
Broken ceiling of the Dome of Stars,
Unheeding of the corrupted servants of Night
Who would shun even this lesser light
To creep beneath the shattered pillars,
Away from this covering of Silver-white.
The River runs, black and shining in the night,
Smooth and dark, unstaunched and flowing,
Ever flowing from the wounded city.
Osgiliath of old, extinguished lamp of Numenor’s
Desiring, lies silent and whispers
Among dust-ridden shards, dreaming of light.
-
And gallant rode he;
Home came his brother.
But never came he
The first here has a horse-riding rhythm for Boromir's ill-fated journey, who would never come home again and whose father would never recover from the blow. The second mourns Osgiliath and its broken dome, the lost city by the river with its abandoned artistry and bridges.
One Son of Gondor
Out from the battle
And fresh from the fray,
One son of Gondor
Rode out on a day
Saddled and bridled
And gallant rode he;
Home came his brother.
But never came he.
Out came his father
Stern in his power
And out came the guardsmen
Of pearl-white tower;
Their trumpets silver
Would surely be blown,
But one son of Gondor
Will never come home.
Saddled and bridled
And booted rode he,
A horn to his hand
And sword by his knee.
To them came the horn
All broken in twain,
Splitted asunder
As hard heart in pain.
Hard heart will shatter
When struck with a blow,
No softness nor bending
Will it ever know.
Lay down the pieces
Before the White Tree
His brother returned
But never came he.
Pride of his father,
Hale and strong
This bright golden son
Who could do no wrong.
Golden the favor
That sent him to roam;
But one son of Gondor
Will never come home.
-
Dome of Stars
Now came the Enemy on, as evening grey
Did wrap the emptied city in its blind cloak.
Silence accompanied, for beast and bird,
Maid, matron, child – all these driven out, lay now
Far off and weeping. Only wakeful watching stars knew
The dark fingers upon the broken streets.
In silence they shone. How the firmament flares
With living fires above, sparks unseen by Men –
The starry host shining brightest through the
Broken ceiling of the Dome of Stars,
Unheeding of the corrupted servants of Night
Who would shun even this lesser light
To creep beneath the shattered pillars,
Away from this covering of Silver-white.
The River runs, black and shining in the night,
Smooth and dark, unstaunched and flowing,
Ever flowing from the wounded city.
Osgiliath of old, extinguished lamp of Numenor’s
Desiring, lies silent and whispers
Among dust-ridden shards, dreaming of light.
-