Shakespearian Sonnets - Rohan

[written_leaves]

Once again, Shakespeare provides a framework that suits the subject matter so very well -

For Eomer, betrayed and exiled by his own Lord's twisted command:

Hands of Falsehood
(based on Shakespeare's Sonnet XLVIII )

How careful was I when I took my way
Each oath under truest sword to thrust,
That, by my guard, it might unbroken stay
From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust!
But thou, for whom my oath's allegiance are,
Most worthy Lordship, now my greatest grief,
Thou, best of dearest, and mine greatest care
Art left helpless prey to this vulgar thief.
Thee have I not lock'd up in any chest,
Save where thou are not, though I feel thou art,
Within the armored closure of my breast.
From Meduseld thou hast commanded I depart;

But even thence thou would be stolen I fear,
For lies prove thievish for a prize so dear.
-
Theoden:

Dark were my Dreams, of Late
(based on Shakespeare's Sonnet CVII)

Now mine own fears, fulfilled prophetic soul
Of a dark world dreaming on things of past
Can yet, releas'd by true love, control
Suppos'd as forfeit, sacrificed to doom's repast
The mortal man hath his eclipse endur'd
And the black counsel mock'd, no more engag'd;
Incertainties now crown themselves assur'd
And strength proclaim'd from clouded age.
Now with the drops of tears yet upon my sword
My heart lives fresh, and Death to me belied
Since spite of him I'll live and keep my words
While he insults o'er Orthanc's wounded pride.

And I in this shalt find a monument,
When tyrants' crest and sword of iron are spent.
-

I Shall Not Now Be Ashamed
(based on Shakespeare's Sonnet XXXIII)

Rohan's own glorious morning have I seen;
Echo these mountain-tops with sovereign horn
Spears glinting, spires in meadows green,
Gilding banners, white and green reborn.
Glory permits I'll basest men to ride
With honorable mount determined face,
And from the war-torn world no visage hide,
As a spear thrown, clean death and no disgrace,
Even so my sun one red morn did shine
With all triumphant splendour on my brow;
But out! alack! It was but one hour mine,
The darkest wings hath mask'd it from me now.

Yet e'en in this my heart no whit disdaineth;
Night of the world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth.
-