The Death of Maglor

Anew I curse my father’s oath
That slew us brothers, causing both 
The Silmarils – our Silmarils! - 
Those jewels whose mere possession spills 
The blood of elven race uncounted!
Yea, our Oath in fine amounted 
To kinslaying and exile
From Valinor, the elven isle
Of Elfinesse, of Elvenhome
To wander far, while drifting roam
Afar over all Middle Earth
Where our fore-fathers had their birth 
Beside a lake far in the East.
Have blood-feuds helped us in the least 
To regain what our Father lost?
What we regained – and at what cost
Of blood flowing in rivers down 
The halls of Doriath to drown 
All Elfinesse in ruin and flame!
All this done in our father’s name -
He who we loved, dear Fëanor!
With bloody hands we did restore
Two Silmarils when Eönwë
Let us depart. I, by the sea 
Held up my jewel. But while I stand.
Its holy fire burnt my hand!
Am I corrupted? Finally 
The Silmaril rejected me!
I clutch it tight despite the burn.
In agony I quickly turn 
To cast the Silmaril away 
Into the waters of the bay. 

All lost! My Silmaril is lost!
How many centuries it cost 
Of blood and plotting, sweat and tears
And endless toil through long years
Of insane slaughter, bitter war 
As elf slew elf by the seashore
Of Balar. All this I have done.
Such fetters circle me, the son 
Of Fëanor! Chained to my word -
The Oath I swore, by deeds abhorred 
I fulfilled all it asked of me.
Now I have cast it to the sea!

What have I done – who can forgive?
Without the jewels – how can I live?
Farewell Noldor and Valinor!
I wander by the wide seashore 
Singing the songs of Elfinesse 
Telling my grief and bitterness
As shackled, burdened by the curse
Of old deeds that I here rehearse.