Eucatastrophe

The Birth of Christ is the eucatastrophe of Man’s history. The Resurrection is the eucatastrophe of the story of the Incarnation. This story begins and ends in joy.

— J. R. R. Tolkien, “On Fairy-Stories”

THE HERO BOWED HIS HEAD IN DEATH,
And the Star-Queen wept in light,
As the Dragon’s laughter split the sky
In bolts of dazzling white.

The Dragon rose above the world
Earth trembling in the dark,
And thunder rocked the castle-clouds,
And the wind whipped cold and stark.

The rain fell like the angels’ blood
Throughout the night and day,
And the stars and moon all fled the sky,
And the sun was cold and gray.

The Hero, buried in the earth,
Lay still and pallid white.
In tomb fast-sealed by magic deep,
Far from the air and light.

The Star-Queen’s tears fell on the grass
Above his silent grave,
And the Dragon curled around the world,
The world that none could save.

But then the sun gleamed bright and clear,
And shone upon his tomb.
And where the Woman’s tears fell down
Grew lilies in full-bloom.

Then bolts of light rained down like spears,
And a drop of Heaven’s sun
Was planted deep inside the earth,
Pierced through the dark and dun.

The earth then gleamed with holy light,
As the sundrop melted through
To touch the Hero’s piercéd heart
And plant his life anew.

And from the earth and darkness deep
Gold sunbeams shone abright,
And he who was dead rose in new life
With a flaming sword of light.

The Dragon saw the sword and fled
To the black beyond the stars.
The Hero smiled and laughed in joy,
And light flowed from his scars.