[Novlamothien]

Thanks, Legolas, but i am afraid I did not make myself clear. that's what I get for writing this late at night after a long day. I want to know where the poem itself is, and who says it. It seems to be a conversation between two people, a minstrel and someone else, but I don't have the book to find out.

Namarie

Edit: Here is the whole poem:

Sing us yet more of Earendel the wandering,
chant us a lay of his white-oared ship,
more marvelous-cunning than mortal man’s pondering,
family musical out on the deep.
Sing us a tale of immortal sea-yearning
The Eldar once made ere the change of the light,
Weaving a winelike spell, and a burning
Wonder of spray and the odours of night;
Of murmurous gloamings out on far oceans;
Of his tossing at anchor off islets forlorn
To the unsleeping waves’ never-ending sea-motions;
Of bellying sails when a wind was born,
And the gurgling bubble of tropical water
Tinkled from under the ringed stem,
And thousands of miles was his ship from those wrought her
A petrel, a sea-bird, a white-winged gem,
Gallantly bent on measureless faring
Ere she came homing in sea-laden flight,
Circuitous, lingering, restlessly daring,
Coming to haven unlooked for, at night.’

But the music is broken, the words half-forgotten,
The sunlight has faded, the moon is grown old,
The Elven ships foundered or weed-swathed and rotten,
The fire and the wonder of hearts is acold.
Who now can tell, and what harp can accompany
With melodies strange enough, rich enough tunes,
Pale with the magic of cavernous harmony,
Loud with the shore-music of beaches and dunes,
How slender his boat; of what glimmering timber;
How her sails were all silvern and taper her mast,
And silver her throat with foam and her limber
Flanks as she swanlike floated past!
The song I can sing is but shreds one remembers
Of golden imaginings fashioned in sleep,
A whispered tale told by the withering embers
Of old things far off that but few hearts keep.’
-J.R.R Tolkien
BoLT 2