I am dying, Samwise, dying…
by Mainecoon
A re-write of the poem "Antony and Cleopatra" by William Haines Lytle.
I am dying, Samwise, dying!
Ebbs the crimson life-tide fast,
And the world grows dim with shadows
Gathering on the evening blast.
Let thine arm, dear friend, enfold me,
Hush thy sobs and bow thine ear,
Listen to the great heart secrets
Thou, and thou alone, must hear.
Though our scarred and veteran legions
Bear their eagles high no more,
And the swan-necked elven galleys
Are departing from the shore;
Though no glittering light surrounds me,
Do once more your master's will:
Let me sail now from the Havens.
Let my wandering heart be still.
Let not fools and servile minions
Mock thy tears when you lie low;
'Twas no foeman's arm that felled thee,
'Twas thine own who struck the blow:
I who, pillowed on thy bosom,
Turned aside from glory's ray--
I who, drunk with thy caresses,
Would have thrown the world away.
Should the base plebian rabble
Dare assail you as you roam,
Or come haunting at the doorstep
Of a place you would call home,
Tell them that you once bore witness
To the terror of the Ring,
That through war and pain commingled
You saw Strider rise as King.
And for thee, my star-eyed gardener--
Rest here peacefully a while.
Light the path to Sammath Naur
With the splendor of thy smile.
Give great warriors crowns and arches;
Let thy brow the laurel twine.
I can scorn the whole world's triumphs,
Triumphing in love like thine.
I am dying, Samwise, dying!
Hearken to the bosun's cry;
I must board and sail to Valinor
Beyond this dismal sky.
Ah, no more 'midst jaded wonders
Shall my heart refuse to swell;
May thy lightsome dreams enfold thee--
Dearest Samwise--love--farewell!
…end…
by Mainecoon
A re-write of the poem "Antony and Cleopatra" by William Haines Lytle.
I am dying, Samwise, dying!
Ebbs the crimson life-tide fast,
And the world grows dim with shadows
Gathering on the evening blast.
Let thine arm, dear friend, enfold me,
Hush thy sobs and bow thine ear,
Listen to the great heart secrets
Thou, and thou alone, must hear.
Though our scarred and veteran legions
Bear their eagles high no more,
And the swan-necked elven galleys
Are departing from the shore;
Though no glittering light surrounds me,
Do once more your master's will:
Let me sail now from the Havens.
Let my wandering heart be still.
Let not fools and servile minions
Mock thy tears when you lie low;
'Twas no foeman's arm that felled thee,
'Twas thine own who struck the blow:
I who, pillowed on thy bosom,
Turned aside from glory's ray--
I who, drunk with thy caresses,
Would have thrown the world away.
Should the base plebian rabble
Dare assail you as you roam,
Or come haunting at the doorstep
Of a place you would call home,
Tell them that you once bore witness
To the terror of the Ring,
That through war and pain commingled
You saw Strider rise as King.
And for thee, my star-eyed gardener--
Rest here peacefully a while.
Light the path to Sammath Naur
With the splendor of thy smile.
Give great warriors crowns and arches;
Let thy brow the laurel twine.
I can scorn the whole world's triumphs,
Triumphing in love like thine.
I am dying, Samwise, dying!
Hearken to the bosun's cry;
I must board and sail to Valinor
Beyond this dismal sky.
Ah, no more 'midst jaded wonders
Shall my heart refuse to swell;
May thy lightsome dreams enfold thee--
Dearest Samwise--love--farewell!
…end…