Lament of the Maiden — Minas Tirith

   (( Edited. 23 Aug 2017 ))

Lament of the Maiden from the White City

Tear the banners from the Tower,
Stain the white stone red,
Wail the trumpets' bitter, cry —
Tonight my lord is dead.

Child your love rides swift to you,
Strong by his steed and aim;
'Tis ill to grieve a man who breathes,
Be done thy tears and shame;

He'll look to see your face alight,
Shine from the Tower's eave,
Fierce with hope as beacon-fire
As when you watched him leave.

The Guard shall watch, the Guard shall wait
Yet never raise the call;
My lord lies pale in Shadow's arms —
See, how they catch his fall.

O, Curse the crebain of the cliff
Who mock him where he sleeps;
Fair hind who finds his lonely grave
Lain by the stone she weeps.

My lady, keep your watch this night,
Stay now a little while —
He knows you by that silver voice,
The star-light in your smile.

Here now I hold my barren end
And blood upon the frost;
The sounds of battle fade to ash,
And all the sons are lost.

O, Send him back, one morning more
That I may bear his name,
And widowed walk the land alone
To sing the creatures tame,

Who'll gather blossoms round his head,
And circle him with furs,
To warm the chill, and tell him still —
'Your heart shall beat in hers.'