The Lost Road and Other Writings. Christopher Tolkien

The Lost Road and Other Writings - Christopher  Tolkien


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had known for many ages neither song nor singer; no sight so fair had eyes of mortal, since the earth was young, seen when waking in that sad country long forsaken. No lord they had, no king nor counsel, but the cold terror that dwelt in the desert, the dark shadow 80 that haunted the hills and the hoar forest. Dread was their master. Dark and silent, long years forlorn, lonely waited the hall of kings, house forsaken without fire or food. Forth men hastened from their dim houses. Doors were opened and gates unbarred. Gladness wakened. To the hill they thronged, and their heads lifting on the guest they gazed. Greybearded men bowed before him and blessed his coming 90 their years to heal; youths and maidens, wives and children welcome gave him. His song was ended. Silent standing he looked upon them. Lord they called him; king they made him, crowned with golden wheaten garland, white his raiment, his harp his sceptre. In his house was fire, food and wisdom; there fear came not. To manhood he grew, might and wisdom. Sheave they called him, whom the ship brought them, 100 a name renowned in the North countries ever since in song. For a secret hidden his true name was, in tongue unknown of far countries where the falling seas wash western shores beyond the ways of men since the world worsened. The word is forgotten and the name perished. Their need he healed, and laws renewed long forsaken. Words he taught them wise and lovely – their tongue ripened in the time of Sheave 110 to song and music. Secrets he opened runes revealing. Riches he gave them, reward of labour, wealth and comfort from the earth calling, acres ploughing, sowing in season seed of plenty, hoarding in garner golden harvest for the help of men. The hoar forests in his days drew back to the dark mountains; the shadow receded, and shining corn, white ears of wheat, whispered in the breezes 120 where waste had been. The woods trembled. Halls and houses hewn of timber, strong towers of stone steep and lofty, golden-gabled, in his guarded city they raised and roofed. In his royal dwelling of wood well-carven the walls were wrought; fair-hued figures filled with silver, gold and scarlet, gleaming hung there, stories boding of strange countries, were one wise in wit the woven legends 130 to thread with thought. At his throne men found counsel and comfort and care’s healing, justice in judgement. Generous-handed his gifts he gave. Glory was uplifted. Far sprang his fame over fallow water, through Northern lands the renown echoed of the shining king, Sheave the mighty.

      At the end of (ii) occur eight lines which seem to have been added to the text; they were also inserted in pencil to the ‘prose’ text (i), here written in as verse-lines, with a further eight lines following (the whole passage of sixteen lines was struck through, but it was used afterwards in The Notion Club Papers, in the form of an addition to the poem proper).


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Seven sons he begat, sires of princes,
men great in mind, mighty-handed
and high-hearted. From his house cometh 140
the seeds of kings, as songs tell us,