Incantations... ?

[Guinevere]

No

[Son of Númenor]

That is part of Tolkien's Eala Earendel Engla Beorhtast, and is about Eärendil the Mariner.

[Guinevere]

"The voyage of Earendel the Evening Star" was written 1914

[Son of Númenor]

Sorry about the lateness. Here's a nice one:

And O! the row of silver dishes
and the store of silver spoons!
For Sunday there's a special pair,
And these they polish up with care
on Saturday afternoons.

[HerenIstarion]

The song Frodo sings in the Prancing Pony (cow jumped over the moon, that lot), just before slipping and disappearing

[Son of Númenor]

That was too easy.

[HerenIstarion]

sort of

but I'll play nasty in my turn:

We knew that land once, You and I,
and once we wandered there
in the long days now long gone by,
a dark child and a fair.
Was it on the paths of firelight thought
in winter cold and white,
or in the blue-spun twilit hours
of little early tucked-up beds
in drowsy summer night,
that you and I in Sleep went down
to meet each other there,
your dark hair on your white nightgown
and mine was tangled fair?

[Son of Númenor]

The Little House of Lost Play, sir.

[HerenIstarion]

Not that nasty, than

Pray take it over

[Son of Númenor]

Not nearly nasty 'nough.

Speaking of nasty, here's a passage that fits the definition:

You sink into the slime, who dare
To knock upon their door,
While down the grinning gargoyles stare
And noisome waters pour.

[HerenIstarion]

Don't have my books on me, but sounds ominous. Mewlips?

[Son of Númenor]

[HerenIstarion]

er, thank you

next to go:

Pay heed to sailors' ancient lore,
Set foot on no uncharted shore!

[Son of Númenor]

Off the top of my head, I'd say Bombadil Goes Boating or Fastitocalon. I shall go with the latter.

[HerenIstarion]

the latter it is, that is Fastitocalon

[Son of Númenor]

"Though spring and summer wear and fade,
though flowers fall and leaves are laid,
and winter winds his trumpet loud,
and snows both fell and forest shroud,
though roaring seas upon the shore
go long and white, and neath the door
the wind cries with houseless voice,
in fire and song yet men rejoice,
till as a ship returns to port
the spring comes back to field and court."

[PaleStar]

*blinks*
I have no clue at all...

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

It's from The Lay of Aotrou and Itroun.

[Son of Númenor]

Correct.

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

This is 100% by volume:

San ninqeruvisse lútier
kiryasse Earendil or vea,
ar laiqali linqi falmari
langon veakiryo kírier;
wingildin o silqelosseën
alkantaméren úrio
kalmainen; i lunte linganer,
tyulmin talalínen aiqalin
kautáron, i súru laustaner.

[Son of Númenor]

I believe that is the poem Earendel, found in The Monsters and the Critics. The line "kiryasse Earendil or vea" narrows it down a bit.

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

That's the one. Maybe giving the entire poem made it a bit obvious. To be precise, it's in A Secret Vice.

[Son of Númenor]

"Though sword shall be rusted,
And throne and crown perish"

[HerenIstarion]

ah, one of my favvies

in the Hobbit, elves do sing a lot of didactic stuff of the kind:

The dragon is withered,
His bones are now crumbled;
His armour is shivered,
His splendour is humbled!
Though sword shall be rusted,
And throne and crown perish
With strength that men trusted
And wealth that they cherish,
Here grass is still growing,
And leaves are yet swinging,
The white water flowing,
And elves are yet singing
Come! Tra-la-la-lally!
Come back to the valley!

The stars are far brighter
Than gems without measure,
The moon is far whiter
Than silver in treasure:
The fire is more shining
On hearth in the gloaming
Than gold won by mining,
So why go a-roaming?
O! Tra-la-la-lally
Come back to the Valley.

O! Where are you going,
So late in returning?
The river is flowing,
The stars are all burning!
O! Whither so laden,
So sad and so dreary?
Here elf and elf-maiden
Now welcome the weary
With Tra-la-la-lally
Come back to the Valley,
Tra-la-la-lally
Fa-la-la-lally
Fa-la!

This particular lot were hedonists, for sure!

[PaleStar]

Who's next? I'd actually like to try answer one of these correctly.

[HerenIstarion]

I suppose it'd be me, once SoN confirms my answer (or it would not, if he debunks it, but I suppose it's safe bet I've got it right)

Patience, just a little bit of patience...

[Son of Númenor]

Your go, H-I.

[HerenIstarion]

Blessed are the timid hearts that evil hate,
that quail in its shadow, and yet shut the gate;
that seek no parley, and in guarded room,
though small and bare, upon a clumsy loom
weave tissues gilded by the far-off day
hoped and believed in under Shadow's sway.

[Evisse the Blue]

From Mythopoeia.

[HerenIstarion]

corrrrect!

Take it over

[Evisse the Blue]

the sea heaving,
the abyss yawing,
the old darkness
beyond the stars falling

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

This is from Tolkien's translation of his poem Oilima Markirya (The Last Ark) from A Secret Vice.

[Bêthberry]

Squatter,

Who shall make such a grave rebuke?

Wylkynsion? or the Travestometre?

Show us how 'tis done.

Beth

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

Actually this is easier than it looks.

1: I post 'I have absolutely no idea whence came those words...erm...eth'.
2: Someone who's been around for a while, probably that reprobate Underhill, posts 'Wait a minute: didn't you read that poem over Tolkien's grave last February, resulting in the invention of the Travest-o-Meter ©®?'
4: I skip point number three to avoid accidentally typing in a pound sign.
5: Wylkynsion mumbles 'you berk,' but only Etceteron hears him, so it's a wasted comment.
6: The Travest-o-Meter ©® detects the presence of a talking black sword made by Eöl in an RPG, factors in its terrible South London accent, and explodes.
7: Another major city bites the dust.

So endeth the lesson.

[Evisse the Blue]

Thanks for the link. Whoa. Beautiful. Everybody should check out this link! I mean, if you're clueless like me and haven't done so already...
Treat us with the next, Squatter.

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

Hearken to the song of the purists.

Heart shall be bolder, harder be purpose,
more proud the spirit as our power lessens!
Mind shall not falter nor mood waver,
though doom shall come and dark conquer.

[Evisse the Blue]

I think that's from The Homecoming of Beorhnoth, though I wouldn't wager my head.

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

Revolving as do the governments of banana republics.

It's one of Torhthelm's lines near the end.

The turnover here is getting silly. Better make yours nasty, Evisse.

[Evisse the Blue]

"Dread was their master. Dark and silent,
long years forlorn, lonely waited."

[Bêthberry]

Indeed, Squatter, your lines are not Tolkien's. They are derivative, a translation. A petty point perhaps.