No

That is part of Tolkien's Eala Earendel Engla Beorhtast, and is about Eärendil the Mariner.

correct!
 

"The voyage of Earendel the Evening Star" was written 1914

Sorry about the lateness. Here's a nice one:

The song Frodo sings in the Prancing Pony (cow jumped over the moon, that lot), just before slipping and disappearing

That was too easy.

:smokin:

sort of :)

but I'll play nasty in my turn:

The Little House of Lost Play, sir.

Not that nasty, than :)

Pray take it over

Not nearly nasty 'nough. ;)

Speaking of nasty, here's a passage that fits the definition:

Don't have my books on me, but sounds ominous. Mewlips?

You're good
 

:smokin:

er, thank you :)

next to go:

Let the other kids play
 

Off the top of my head, I'd say Bombadil Goes Boating or Fastitocalon. I shall go with the latter.

the more kids enter, the better
 

the latter it is, that is Fastitocalon :)

Ode to present day Middle-earth
 

"Though spring and summer wear and fade,
though flowers fall and leaves are laid,
and winter winds his trumpet loud,
and snows both fell and forest shroud,
though roaring seas upon the shore
go long and white, and neath the door
the wind cries with houseless voice,
in fire and song yet men rejoice,
till as a ship returns to port
the spring comes back to field and court."

*blinks*
I have no clue at all...

Laying down some rhymes
 

It's from The Lay of Aotrou and Itroun.

Correct.

Starting on the hard stuff?
 

This is 100% by volume:

Watered down by the Sea
 

I believe that is the poem Earendel, found in The Monsters and the Critics. The line "kiryasse Earendil or vea" narrows it down a bit.

A disappointingly fast resolution
 

That's the one. Maybe giving the entire poem made it a bit obvious. To be precise, it's in A Secret Vice.

Staying power
 

"Though sword shall be rusted,
And throne and crown perish"

ah, one of my favvies :)

in the Hobbit, elves do sing a lot of didactic stuff of the kind:

The dragon is withered,
His bones are now crumbled;
His armour is shivered,
His splendour is humbled!
Though sword shall be rusted,
And throne and crown perish
With strength that men trusted
And wealth that they cherish,
Here grass is still growing,
And leaves are yet swinging,
The white water flowing,
And elves are yet singing
Come! Tra-la-la-lally!
Come back to the valley!

The stars are far brighter
Than gems without measure,
The moon is far whiter
Than silver in treasure:
The fire is more shining
On hearth in the gloaming
Than gold won by mining,
So why go a-roaming?
O! Tra-la-la-lally
Come back to the Valley.

O! Where are you going,
So late in returning?
The river is flowing,
The stars are all burning!
O! Whither so laden,
So sad and so dreary?
Here elf and elf-maiden
Now welcome the weary
With Tra-la-la-lally
Come back to the Valley,
Tra-la-la-lally
Fa-la-la-lally
Fa-la!

This particular lot were hedonists, for sure!

Who's next? I'd actually like to try answer one of these correctly.

I suppose it'd be me, once SoN confirms my answer (or it would not, if he debunks it, but I suppose it's safe bet I've got it right) :)

Patience, just a little bit of patience...

A safe bet, indeed
 

Your go, H-I. :)

Onward we go...
 

Blessed are the timid hearts that evil hate,
that quail in its shadow, and yet shut the gate;
that seek no parley, and in guarded room,
though small and bare, upon a clumsy loom
weave tissues gilded by the far-off day
hoped and believed in under Shadow's sway.

From Mythopoeia.

corrrrect!

Take it over :)

If I couldn't get this one I'd be a laughing stock
 

This is from Tolkien's translation of his poem Oilima Markirya (The Last Ark) from A Secret Vice.

Squatter,

Who shall make such a grave rebuke?

Wylkynsion? or the Travestometre?

Show us how 'tis done. ;)

Beth

Laughing at Squatter 101
 

Actually this is easier than it looks.

1: I post 'I have absolutely no idea whence came those words...erm...eth'.
2: Someone who's been around for a while, probably that reprobate Underhill, posts 'Wait a minute: didn't you read that poem over Tolkien's grave last February, resulting in the invention of the Travest-o-Meter ©®?'
4: I skip point number three to avoid accidentally typing in a pound sign.
5: Wylkynsion mumbles 'you berk,' but only Etceteron hears him, so it's a wasted comment.
6: The Travest-o-Meter ©® detects the presence of a talking black sword made by Eöl in an RPG, factors in its terrible South London accent, and explodes.
7: Another major city bites the dust.

So endeth the lesson. :smokin:

Thanks for the link. Whoa. Beautiful. Everybody should check out this link! I mean, if you're clueless like me and haven't done so already...
Treat us with the next, Squatter.

The Incantathon continues
 

Hearken to the song of the purists. ;)

I think that's from The Homecoming of Beorhnoth, though I wouldn't wager my head.

... and the thread became like unto a mighty wheel...
 

Revolving as do the governments of banana republics.

It's one of Torhthelm's lines near the end.

The turnover here is getting silly. Better make yours nasty, Evisse.

nasty incantation...ok: Avada K, no, no, I meant:
 

"Dread was their master. Dark and silent,
long years forlorn, lonely waited."

"Hearken to the song of the purists."
 

Indeed, Squatter, your lines are not Tolkien's. They are derivative, a translation. A petty point perhaps.