Concepts & place names copyright J. R. R. Tolkien & The Tolkien Estate
Barrow Down Dirge
Slowly beats the funeral drum,
And mournful sounds the horn,
Broken King is brought to sleep,
Laid out afore the dawn.
Raise the mound and roll the stone,
Forever here to rest,
Crown on brow and shield at feet,
His sword upon his breast.
Weepers wail his memory,
So empty now his hall,
Who will stand before the sea,
So regal and so tall?
Hollow Tor is sealed now,
Grass growing on its crown,
Silent is the rest of Kings,
Upon the Barrow Down.
Their noble house diminished,
Blood of the Kings is thinned,
Their children all are scattered
Like leaves upon the wind.
Do some remain awaiting,
In forest or in fen?
Have they passed beyond the world,
As is the fate of men?