CANTO I
Of Finrod tarrying in Ossiriand
In Ossiriand, in Elder Days, beneath the peaks afar and blue of Ered Luin, beside the ways of Dwarven-folk a wood there grew. By talking brook, on loamy earth 5 the elm and beech and ashes grey stood they ancient in that firth, and in its eaves did Finrod stray. From guard and friend he turned aside wearying of the hunt, he rode 10 across the Gelion's waters wide and took upon the Dwarven-road. His quarry gone, his arrows spent, softly warbled the summer stream his feet along its waters went, 15 and walked as if a waking dream; unhorsed he wandered neath the trees in valleys and in caves of stone, while blossoms nodded in the breeze: in Ossiriand, he went alone. 20
A thread of jewels like dews upon his mantle dark wore Finrod king, his girdle sewn with silver wan and emeralds were in his ring as serpents twain in Aman wrought 25 by Elven-wrights, before the Dawn, when crystal lamps lit forges hot in the shinning halls of Tirion. For Finrod was an Elven lord, a king of old in days gone by, 30 his mail was bright and sharp his sword, in Nargothrond neath northern sky. He reared his power in secret ways, in caverns and in halls of stone, be-veiled away from searching gaze, 35 to allies hid, to foes unknown. But free and wild was land that he unbound by time did set upon like a dreamer deep in reverie amazed and lost, until the dawn 40 and night alike had passed him by and through the flower-meads he led and still the dark and starry sky wheeled above his golden head. For long he walked in grasses strewn 45 with summer blooms and flowers filled and silent beneath the sickle Moon Finrod by a clearing stilled. Unsounding soft did Finrod tread in thistles and in shifting grass, 50 his singing voice had windless sped headlong, as clear as chiming glass. And so he sang in starry dell adrift in forest shimmering; his music like a water fell 55 as silver dewdrops glimmering. His power in his song revealed, for time itself did move to still while birds listened, while stars wheeled and Finrod sang atop the hill. 60
And birds and beasts were not all who wandered in that lovely wood, where ashes dark and birches tall beside the silent mountains stood. Ossiriand, Ossiriand, 65 for ever wild were strath and glen, across those rivers, seven-lands, into the forests wandered Men found they out of mountains cold and camped and reveled in its wood, 70 its thistles young, its rowans old, while Felagund beside the mountains stood.
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