The Lost Road and Other Writings. Christopher Tolkien

The Lost Road and Other Writings - Christopher  Tolkien


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meshed with light of moon and sun,

      And tangled with those tresses fair

      A gold and silver sheen is spun.

      There feet do beat and white and bare

      Do lissom limbs in dances run,

      Their robes the wind, their raiment air –

      Such loveliness to look upon

      Nor Bran nor Brendan ever won,

      Who foam beyond the furthest sea

      Did dare, and dipped behind the sun

      On winds unearthly wafted free.

      Than Tir-nan-Og more fair and free,

      Than Paradise more faint and far,

      O! shore beyond the Shadowy Sea,

      O! land forlorn where lost things are,

      O! mountains where no man may be!

      The solemn surges on the bar

      Beyond the world’s edge waft to me;

      I dream I see a wayward star,

      Than beacon towers in Gondobar

      More fair, where faint upon the sky

      On hills imagineless and far

      The lights of longing flare and die.

      The Tree then shook, and flying free

      from its limbs the leaves in air

      as white birds rose in wheeling flight,

      and the lifting boughs were bare.

      Of course the imrama of Brendan and Ælfwine are in any case closely associated. – There follow the texts of the ‘intermediate’ and final versions.

      THE SONG OF ÆLFWINE

      (on seeing the uprising of Eärendel)

      There lingering lights still golden lie

      on grass more green than in gardens here,

      On trees more tall that touch the sky

      with swinging leaves of silver clear.

      While world endures they will not die,

      nor fade nor fall their timeless year,

      As morn unmeasured passes by

      o’er mead and mound and shining mere.

      When endless eve undimmed is near,

      o’er harp and chant in hidden choir

      A sudden voice upsoaring sheer

      in the wood awakes the Wandering Fire.

      The Wandering Fire the woodland fills:

      in glades for ever green it glows,

      In dells where immortal dew distils

      the Flower that in secret fragrance grows.

      There murmuring the music spills,

      as falling fountain plashing flows,

      And water white leaps down the hills

      to seek the Sea that no sail knows.

      Through gleaming vales it singing goes,

      where breathing keen on bent and briar

      The wind beyond the world’s end blows

      to living flame the Wandering Fire.

      The Wandering Fire with tongues of flame

      with light there kindles quick and clear

      The land of long-forgotten name:

      no man may ever anchor near;

      No steering star his hope may aim,

      for nether Night its marches drear,

      And waters wide no sail may tame,

      with shores encircled dark and sheer.

      Uncounted leagues it lies from here,

      and foam there flowers upon the Sea

      By cliffs of crystal carven clear

      on shining beaches blowing free.

      There blowing free unbraided hair

      is meshed with beams of Moon and Sun,

      And twined within those tresses fair

      a gold and silver sheen is spun,

      As fleet and white the feet go bare,

      and lissom limbs in dances run,

      Shimmering in the shining air:

      such loveliness to look upon

      No mortal man hath ever won,

      though foam upon the furthest sea

      He dared, or sought behind the Sun

      for winds unearthly flowing free.

      O! Shore beyond the Shadowy Sea!

      O! Land where still the Edhil are!

      O! Haven where my heart would be!

      the waves that beat upon thy bar

      For ever echo endlessly,

      when longing leads my thought afar,

      And rising west of West I see

      beyond the world the wayward Star,

      Than beacons bright in Gondobar

      more clear and keen, more fair and high:

      O! Star that shadow may not mar,

      nor ever darkness doom to die!

      In the final version of the poem that now follows the prose note concerning Ælfwine’s voyage is linked by an asterisk to the name Ælfwine in the title.

      THE SONG OF ÆLFWINE

      on seeing the uprising of Eärendil

      Eressëa! Eressëa!

      There elven-lights still gleaming lie

      On grass more green than in gardens here,

      On trees more tall that touch the sky

      With swinging leaves of silver clear.

      While world endures they will not die,

      Nor


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