He saw the Beginning, and he saw the end,
And once he was a herald for a king,
And in all the ages he was but a friend,
And his eyes, though stearn, did ort times sing.
Ever did he toil, on deeds both old and new,
And ere the eve would see the stars of night,
And he was always trusted, by all but evul few,
And his father bore the silmaril star bright.
And his fate it was so woken,
With grief, with hope, with love,
And his house was always open,
And filled with the peace of the dove.