far from his fellows. In his sleep
100he felt a dreadful darkness creep upon his heart, and thought the trees were bare and bent in mournful breeze; no leaves they had, but ravens dark
sat thick as leaves on bough and bark, 105and croaked, and as they croaked each neb
let fall a gout of blood; a web
unseen entwined him hand and limb,
until worn out, upon the rim
of stagnant pool he lay and shivered.
110There saw he that a shadow quivered far out upon the water wan,
and grew to a faint form thereon
that glided o’er the silent lake
and coming slowly, softly spake
115and sadly said; ‘Lo! Gorlim here, traitor betrayed, now stands! Nor fear, but haste! For Morgoth’s fingers close upon thy father’s throat. He knows
your secret tryst, your hidden lair’, 120and all the evil he laid bare that he had done and Morgoth wrought.
Then Beren waking swiftly sought
his sword and bow, and sped like wind that cuts with knives the branches thinned 125of autumn trees. At last he came, his heart afire with burning flame,
where Barahir his father lay;
he came too late. At dawn of day
he found the homes of hunted men,
130a wooded island in the fen and birds rose up in sudden cloud— no fen-fowl were they crying loud.
The raven and the carrion-crow
sat in the alders all a-row;
135one croaked: ‘Ha! Beren comes too late’, and answered all: ‘Too late! Too late!’
There Beren buried his father’s bones, and piled a heap of boulder-stones,
and cursed the name of Morgoth thrice, 140but wept not, for his heart was ice.
Then over fen and field and mountain
he followed, till beside a fountain
upgushing hot from fires below
he found the slayers and his foe,
145the murderous soldiers of the king.
And one there laughed, and showed a ring he took from Barahir’s dead hand.
‘This ring in far Beleriand,
now mark ye, mates,’ he said, ‘was wrought.
150Its like with gold could not be bought, for this same Barahir I slew,
this robber fool, they say, did do
a deed of service long ago
for Felagund. It may be so;
155for Morgoth bade me bring it back, and yet, methinks, he has no lack
of weightier treasure in his hoard.
Such greed befits not such a lord,
and I am minded to declare
160the hand of Barahir was bare!’
Yet as he spake an arrow sped;
with riven heart he crumpled dead.
Thus Morgoth loved that his own foe
should in his service deal the blow
165that punished the breaking of his word.
But Morgoth laughed not when he heard that Beren like a wolf alone
sprang madly from behind a stone
amid that camp beside the well,
170and seized the ring, and ere the yell of wrath and rage had left their throat had fled his foes. His gleaming coat was made of rings of steel no shaft
could pierce, a web of dwarvish craft; 175and he was lost in rock and thorn, for in charméd hour was Beren born;
their hungry hunting never learned
the way his fearless feet had turned.
As fearless Beren was renowned,
180as man most hardy upon ground, while Barahir yet lived and fought;
but sorrow now his soul had wrought
to dark despair, and robbed his life of sweetness, that he longed for knife, 185or shaft, or sword, to end his pain, and dreaded only thraldom’s chain.
Danger he sought and death pursued,
and thus escaped the fate he wooed,
and deeds of breathless wonder dared 190whose whispered glory widely fared, and softly songs were sung at eve
of marvels he did once achieve
alone, beleaguered, lost at night
by mist or moon, or neath the light 195of the broad eye of day. The woods that northward looked with bitter feuds he filled and death for Morgoth’s folk; his comrades were the beech and oak, who failed him not, and many things
200with fur and fell and feathered wings; and many spirits, that in stone
in mountains old and wastes alone,
do dwell and wander, were his friends.
Yet seldom well an outlaw ends,
205and Morgoth was a king more strong than all the world has since in song recorded, and his wisdom wide
slow and surely who him defied
did hem and hedge. Thus at the last
210must Beren flee the forest fast and lands he loved where lay his sire by reeds bewailed beneath the mire.
Beneath a heap of mossy stones
now crumble those once most mighty bones.
215but Beren flees the friendless North one autumn night, and creeps him forth; the leaguer of his watchful foes
he passes—silently he goes.
No more his hidden bowstring sings,
220no more his shaven arrow wings, no more his hunted head doth lie
upon the heath beneath the sky.
The moon that looked amid the mist
upon the pines, the wind that hissed 225among the heather and the fern found him no more. The stars that burn about the North with silver fire
in frosty airs, the Burning Briar
that men did name in days long gone, 230were set behind his back, and shone o’er land and lake and darkened hill, forsaken fen and mountain rill.
His face was South from the Land of Dread
whence only evil pathways led,
235and only the feet of men most bold might cross the Shadowy Mountains cold.
Their northern slopes were filled with woe, with evil and with mortal foe;
their southern faces mounted sheer
240in rocky pinnacle and pier, whose roots were woven with deceit
and washed with waters bitter-sweet.
There magic lurked in gulf and glen, for far away beyond the ken
245of searching eyes, unless it were from dizzy tower that pricked the air where only eagles lived and cried,
might grey and gleaming be descried
Beleriand, Beleriand,
250the borders of the fa?ry land.
THE QUENTA NOLDORINWA