“When the Elves on High call Elerossë from Taniquetil,
His sweetest songs they shall find have fallen still:
Varda has lost one of her brightest stars this night,
Yavanna shall know why some of her flowers have spurned delight;
Manwë himself broods on his mighty, airy throne,
While Niënna weeps, sitting in the farthest West, all alone.
This Elf’s sister mourns the loss of fraternal love,
To resemble her heart the other stars darken above;
This Elf’s brother, so like him in appearance and form,
Conceals within his heart the bitterest storm
That wrenches like this foaming, gasping sea
And echoes this wind’s absolute cacophony.
Quiet in mood, calm as the dew collected within Varda’s wells,
Vala, we commend this elf, ere we submit him to this sea’s swells,
In Valinor, his mother shall look for the return of his constant smile:
Without suspicion, without disdain, without any presence of guile.
The sea shall carry him to those blessed shores again
Where he shall be free from doubt, torment, fate and pain.
In Valinor, his father shall look for the return of this beloved son
Who lived his life for others when all was said and done,
This wind shall carry him beyond this barren and cold air
To a place of light built for hearts which are fairest of the fair.”