The Lost Road and Other Writings. Christopher Tolkien

The Lost Road and Other Writings - Christopher  Tolkien


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lifted up his voice and chanted aloud, but as one speaking to himself alone:

      Monað modes lust mid mereflode

      forð to feran, þæt ic feor heonan

      ofer hean holmas, ofer hwæles eðel

      elþeodigra eard gesece.

      Nis me to hearpan hyge ne to hringþege

      ne to wife wyn ne to worulde hyht

      ne ymb owiht elles nefne ymb yða gewealc.

      ‘The desire of my spirit urges me to journey forth over the flowing sea, that far hence across the hills of water and the whale’s country I may seek the land of strangers. No mind have I for harp, nor gift of ring, nor delight in women, nor joy in the world, nor concern with aught else save the rolling of the waves.’

      Then he stopped suddenly. There was some laughter, and a few jeers, though many were silent, as if feeling that the words were not spoken to their ears – old and familiar as they were, words of the old poets whom most men had heard often. ‘If he has no mind to the harp he need expect no [?wages],’ said one. ‘Is there a mortal here who has a mind?’ ‘We have had enough of the sea,’ said another. ‘A spell of Dane-hunting would cure most men’s love of it.’ ‘Let him go rolling on the waves,’ said another. ‘It is no great sail to the … Welsh country, where folk are strange enough – and the Danes to talk to as well.’

      The verses that Ælfwine chanted are derived from the Old English poem known as The Seafarer, with the omission of five lines from the original after line 4, and some alterations of wording. The third line is an addition (and is enclosed, both in the Old English and in the translation, in square brackets in the manuscript).

      With the reference to Ælfwine’s wife who came from Cornwall cf. the old tale of Ælfwine of England, where his mother came ‘from the West, from Lionesse’ (II. 313).

      To the shore the ship came and strode upon the sand, grinding upon the broken shingle. In the twilight as the sun sank men came down to it, and looked within. A boy lay there, asleep. He was fair of face and limb, dark-haired, white-skinned, but clad in gold. The inner parts of the boat were gold-adorned, a vessel of gold filled with clear water was at his side, [added: at his right was a harp,] beneath his head was a sheaf of corn, the stalks and ears of which gleamed like gold in the dusk. Men knew not what it was. In wonder they drew the boat high upon the beach, and lifted the boy and bore him up, and laid him sleeping in a wooden house in their burh. They set guards about the door.

      Those days songs have called the golden years, while the great mill of Sheaf was guarded still in the island sanctuary of the North; and from the mill came golden grain, and there was no want in all the realms.

      But it came to pass after long years that Sheaf summoned his friends and counsellors, and he told them that he would depart. For the shadow of old age was fallen upon him (out of the East) and he would return whence he came. Then there was great mourning. But Sheaf laid him upon his golden bed, and became as one in deep slumber; and his lords obeying his commands while he yet ruled and had command of speech set him in a ship. He lay beside the mast, which was tall, and the sails were golden. Treasures of gold and of gems and fine raiment and costly stuffs were laid beside him. His golden banner flew above his head. In this manner he was arrayed more richly than when he came among them; and they thrust him forth to sea, and the sea took him, and the ship bore him unsteered far away into the uttermost West out of the sight or thought of men. Nor do any know who received him in what haven at the end of his journey. Some have said that that ship found the Straight Road. But none of the children of Sheaf went that way, and many in the beginning lived to a great age, but coming under the shadow of the East they were laid in great tombs of stone or in mounds like green hills; and most of these were by the western sea, high and broad upon the shoulders of the land, whence men can descry them that steer their ships amid the shadows of the sea.

      Suddenly Ælfwine struck a note on his harp. ‘Lo!’ he cried, loud and clear, and men stiffened to attention. ‘Lo!’ he cried, and began to chant an ancient tale, yet he was half aware that he was telling it afresh, adding and altering words, not so much by improvisation as after long pondering hidden from himself, catching at the shreds of dreams and visions.

In days of yore
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