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                                      II.                                    
                            POEMS EARLY ABANDONED.                           
                                                                            
 During  his  time  at the  University of  Leeds my  father embarked  on five
 distinct  poetical works  concerned with  the matter  of the  mythology; but
 three of these went no further than the openings.  This chapter  treats each
 of them in turn.                                                            
                                                                            
                        (i) The Flight of the Noldoli.                       
  There do not seem to be any certain indications of the date of this brief
  poem in alliterative verse in relation to The Children of Hurin (though it
   is worth noticing that already in the earliest of the three texts of The
    Flight of the Noldoli Feanor's son Cranthir is so named, whereas this
   form only arose by emendation of Cranthor in the typescript text of the
    Lay (line 1719)). However, both from its general air and from various
 details it can be seen that it comes from the same time; and since it seems
    unlikely that (on the one hand) my father would have embarked on a new
  poem in alliterative verse unless he had laid the other aside, or that (on
   the other) he would have returned to this mode once he was fully engaged
      on a long poem in rhyming couplets, I think it very probable that      
      The Flight of the Noldoli comes from the earlier part of 1925 (see     
                                                                            
 PP. 3, 81).                                                                 
  Each of the three  manuscripts of  the poem  (A, B,  and C)  is differently
 titled:  A  has  The  Flight  of  the  Gnomes  as  sung  in  the   Halls  of
 Thingol;  B  (pencilled  in later)  Flight of  the Gnomes;  C The  Flight of
 the  Noldoli  from  Valinor.  A  has emendations  that are  taken up  in the
 text of B, and B has emendations taken up in C; almost all  are characteris-
 tic metrical/verbal rearrangements, as for example in line 17:              
                                                                            
  A in anguish mourning, emended to the reading of B;                        
  B and in anguish mourn, emended to the reading of C;                       
  C mourning in anguish.                                                     
                                                                            
  As  generally  in  this  book,  earlier  variants that  have no  bearing on
 names or story are not cited. Each text ends  at the  same point,  but three
 further lines are roughly written in the margin of A (see note to line 146).
  I give now the text of the third version, C.                               

                THE FLIGHT OF THE NOLDOLI                    
                       FROM VALINOR.                         
                                                            
 A! the Trees of Light, tall and shapely,                    
 gold and silver, more glorious than the sun,                
 than the moon more magical, o'er the meads of the Gods      
 their fragrant frith and flowerladen                        
 gardens gleaming, once gladly shone.                      5
 In death they are darkened, they drop their leaves          
 from blackened branches bled by Morgoth                     
 and Ungoliant the grim the Gloomweaver.                     
 In spider's form despair and shadow                         
 a shuddering fear and shapeless night                   10 
 she weaves in a web of winding venom                        
 that is black and breathless. Their branches fail,          
 the light and laughter of their leaves are quenched.        
 Mirk goes marching, mists of blackness,                     
 through the halls of the Mighty hushed and empty,       15
 the gates of the Gods are in gloom mantled.                 
                                                            
 Lo! the Elves murmur mourning in anguish,                   
 but no more shall be kindled the mirth of Cor               
 in the winding ways of their walled city,                   
 towercrowned Tun, whose twinkling lamps                 20
 are drowned in darkness. The dim fingers                    
 of fog come floating from the formless waste                
 and sunless seas. The sound of horns,                       
 of horses' hooves hastening wildly                          
 in hopeless hunt, they hear afar,                       25
 where the Gods in wrath those guilty ones                   
 through mournful shadow, now mounting as a tide             
 o'er the Blissful Realm, in blind dismay                    
 pursue unceasing. The city of the Elves                     
 is thickly thronged. On threadlike stairs               30
 carven of crystal countless torches                         
 stare and twinkle, stain the twilight                       
 and gleaming balusters of green beryl.                      
 A vague rumour of rushing voices,                           
 as myriads mount the marble paths,                       35
 there fills and troubles those fair places                  
 wide ways of Tun and walls of pearl.                        
                                                            
 Of the Three Kindreds to that clamorous throng              

 are none but the Gnomes in numbers drawn.               
 The Elves of Ing to the ancient halls                 40
 and starry gardens that stand and gleam                 
 upon Timbrenting towering mountain                      
 that day had climbed to the cloudy-domed                
 mansions of Manwe for mirth and song.                   
 There Bredhil the Blessed the bluemantled,            45
 the Lady of the heights as lovely as the snow           
 in lights gleaming of the legions of the stars,         
 the cold immortal Queen of mountains,                   
 too fair and terrible too far and high                  
 for mortal eyes, in Manwe's court                     50
 sat silently as they sang to her.                       
                                                        
 The Foam-riders, folk of waters,                        
 Elves of the endless echoing beaches,                   
 of the bays and grottoes and the blue lagoons,          
 of silver sands sown with moonlit,                    55
 starlit, sunlit, stones of crystal,                     
 paleburning gems pearls and opals,                      
 on their shining shingle, where now shadows groping     
 clutched their laughter, quenched in mourning           
 their mirth and wonder, in amaze wandered             60
 under cliffs grown cold calling dimly,                  
 or in shrouded ships shuddering waited                  
 for the light no more should be lit for ever.           
                                                        
 But the Gnomes were numbered by name and kin,           
 marshalled and ordered in the mighty square           65
 upon the crown of Cor. There cried aloud                
 the fierce son of Finn. Flaming torches                 
 he held and whirled in his hands aloft,                 
 those hands whose craft the hidden secret               
 knew, that none Gnome or mortal                       70
 hath matched or mastered in magic or in skill.          
 'Lo! slain is my' sire by the sword of fiends,          
 his death he has drunk at the doors of his hall         
 and deep fastness, where darkly hidden                  
 the Three were guarded, the things unmatched          75
 that Gnome and Elf and the Nine Valar                   
 can never remake or renew on earth,                     
 recarve or rekindle by craft or magic,                  
 not Feanor Finn's son who fashioned them of yore -      

 the light is lost whence he lit them first,         80
 the fate of Faerie hath found its hour                  
                                                        
 Thus the witless wisdom its reward hath earned          
 of the Gods' jealousy, who guard us here                
 to serve them, sing to them in our sweet cages,         
 to contrive them gems and jewelled trinkets,        85
 their leisure to please with our loveliness,            
 while they waste and squander work of ages,             
 nor can Morgoth master in their mansions sitting        
 at countless councils. Now come ye all,                 
 who have courage and hope! My call harken           90
 to flight, to freedom in far places!                    
 The woods of the world whose wide mansions              
 yet in darkness dream drowned in slumber,               
 the pathless plains and perilous shores                 
 no moon yet shines on nor mounting dawn             95
 in dew and daylight hath drenched for ever,             
 far better were these for bold footsteps                
 than gardens of the Gods gloom-encircled                
 with idleness filled and empty days.                    
 Yea! though the light lit them and the loveliness   100
 beyond heart's desire that hath held us slaves          
 here long and long. But that light is dead.             
 Our gems are gone, our jewels ravished;                 
 and the Three, my Three, thrice-enchanted               
 globes of crystal by gleam undying                  105
 illumined, lit by living splendour                   ...
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