CANTO IV
Of the waking of Men and the conversation of Finrod and Bëor

The grass grew young upon the mould
and silent stood the mountain-sides
when first arose on Hither-world
the Sun from eastern margins wide.
Beneath the warm light they awoke
beside the waking meadows, Men
who wandered in the ancient oak
that grew untroubled in its glen.
They woke to beneath the rising Sun,
the last-borne fruit of Laurelin,
that first in stalwart course did run
upon the mortal day’s begin.
So woodland Elves they met at times,
the sundered folk from whom they learned
a simple tongue and rustic rhymes
made with lyres roughly formed.
But guideless they unknowing tread
the wayward forests of the east,
that twisted were and gnarled with dread,
beneath whose eaves they found but beasts
and other creatures cruel and fell
who hunted them like creatures wild,
and darkness came to mere and dell
and all by Shadow were beguilded.

But some repented, and some did seek,
by rumors growing in their midst,
the Light that dwelt beyond the peak
in west afar, though snow and mist
lay thickly on the mountain caps
between the east and surging Seas.
They wandered without guide or maps,
fleeing from cave to under trees;
of leaders brave they had but few
and many turned away, afraid,
many perished in mountains blue,
and many back to darkness strayed.

But one among them, Bëor bold,
through passes fell he deftly led
in blinding snow and endless cold
and found the paths that Dwarves would tread.
His people followed fast their lord,
over fen to trudge and ridge to climb,
through mountains sheer and icy ford
came Bëor’s folk upon a time
to Ossiriand. And now awoke
they, one by one, to Finrod’s song
while round them swayed the leafy oaks
in gentle winds and music long.
And there they hearkened, under spell
of Felagund’s voice, a melody clear,
and loud it echoed as peal of bell,
as sudden thrill that bound them there.

“O lord,” at last had Bëor cried,
“What god or herald visits us?
For wretched are we, as you’ve spied.
O’er mountains far in tatters thus,
in rags we’ve roamed. In ice and snow
we wandered lost for many a day,
by dell and pass, by heath and sloe,
at last we through the mountain-way
came hither without map or guide.
For rumors far of Light we heard
to western lands in hope we’ve hied
though naught we’ve found but beast and bird
til now. Indeed I see a Light
and wonder in your sweetest song
whose music breathed in image bright
and leapt my heart such distance long
to lands unseen, with sounds unheard,
as deep in music shimmering
was magic in your singing word
and living shadows glimmering.
What divine message do you convey,
O lord? Or maybe godly orders
and tidings borne from far away
beyond these mortal, earthly borders?”

“Soft,” there answered Finrod king,
and silence came on his command,
for loud he spoke and stilled the string.
The harp fell silent in his hand.
“None has sent me, O folk of Men,
no god nor herald am I to you    
though moving powers beyond my ken
had called me here. These mountains blue
and streaming waters of Ossiriand
did hold me here, my ways beguiled
by winding lodes in mountain land
by meadows and by flowers wild.

“Yet of your coming was foretold
by he the doomsman among Valar
o’er Sea and gnashing ice of cold
on Araman north, in West afar.
On silent mound he stood alone,
he spoke then of the Second-born,
the Men whose fates already sewn
within the fabric. And on that morn
that Sun first rose did then awaken
the sleeping Arda, beast and bird,
grasses green from slumber shaken,
and blooms and trees in Sunlight stirred.
So it was then that ye awoke
to rising morn, a second spring,
or so ’twas said among Elven folk
when Anor rose on flaming wing
from the Utter West. Though Eldar-folk
have heard no word nor rumors dim
ever reached us here that ye awoke
beyond Beleriand’s eastern rim
til now. You come from mountain ways
on many forgotten eastern roads
as Elves did too in bygone days
when high above the sky were sowed
the ancient stars by Varda, queen,
like jewels bright in sable field
was light beloved, quivering, keen,
an endless fabric thus revealed
in Cuiviénen beneath the stars.
Far east now lie forgotten lands,
those waking waters, waters far
from the shivering woods of Beleriand.
But no more we can we thither go
where lost now run the ancient ways
that Elven-fathers long ago
westward came in Twilit Days.

“But whence came you from yonder realm,
what waters fair, or tarn, or mere,
beneath what oak, or ash, or elm,
lay the sleeping waters clear?
For now I see you, child of Men,
alike to us in form and voice,
as Children twain, our brethren.
At this meeting do I rejoice,
and now I name ye, Second-born,
Atanatári, in Noldorin,
children of the Sun and morn.”
Then silence fell on all therein,
in wonder of the Elven name.    
And long they sat within the glade
while shadows thrown by dying flame
leapt about the circled shade.

Above them climbed the silver fire
of Valacirca’s sickled light,
and Finrod took up again the lyre
and music filled anew the night.
His power by his voice revealed,
and time itself did move to still.
While the earth listened, while stars wheeled,
his music rang from hill to hill.