The Adventures of Tom Bombadil

16

THE LAST SHIP

Firiel looked out at three o'clock:the grey night was going;far away a golden cockclear and shrill was crowing.The trees were dark, and the dawn pale,waking birds were cheeping,a wind moved cool and frailthrough dim leaves creeping.She watched the gleam at window grow,till the long light was shimmeringon land and leaf; on grass belowgrey dew was glimmering.Over the floor her white feet crept,down the stair they twinkled,through the grass they dancing steppedall with dew besprinkled.Her gown had jewels upon its hem,as she ran down to the river,and leaned upon a willow-stem,and watched the water quiver.A kingfisher plunged down like a stonein a blue flash falling,bending reeds were softly blown,lily-leaves were sprawling.A sudden music to her came,as she stood there gleamingwith free hair in the morning's flameon her shoulders streaming.Flutes there were, and harps were wrung,and there was sound of singing,like wind-voices keen and youngand far bells ringing.A ship with golden beak and oarand timbers white came gliding;swans went sailing on before,her tall prow guiding.Fair folk out of Elvenlandin silver-grey were rowing,and three with crowns she saw there standwith bright hair flowing.With harp in hand they sang their songto the slow oars swinging:'Green is the land, the leaves are long,and the birds are singing.Many a day with dawn of goldthis earth will lighten,many a flower will yet unfold,ere the cornfields whiten.'Then whither go ye, boatmen fair,down the river gliding?To twilight and to secret lairin the great forest hiding?To Northern isles and shores of stoneon strong swans flying,by cold waves to dwell alonewith the white gulls crying?''Nay!' they answered. 'Far awayon the last road faring,leaving western havens grey,the seas of shadow daring,we go back to Elvenhome,where the White Tree is growing,and the Star shines upon the foamon the last shore flowing.'To mortal fields say farewell,Middle-earth forsaking!In Elvenhome a clear bellin the high tower is shaking.Here grass fades and leaves fall,and sun and moon wither,and we have heard the far callthat bids us journey thither',The oars were stayed. They turned aside:'Do you hear the call, Earth-maiden?Firiel! Firiel!' they cried.'Our ship is not full-laden.One more only we may bear.Come! For your days are speeding.Come! Earth-maiden elven-fair,our last call heeding.'Firiel looked from the river-bank,one step daring;then deep in clay her feet sank,and she halted staring.Slowly the elven-ship went bywhispering through the water:'I ca

ot come' they heard her cry.'I was born Earth's daughter!'No jewels bright her gown bore,as she walked back from the meadowunder roof and dark door,under the house-shadow.She do

ed her smock of russet brown,her long hair braided,and to her work came stepping down.Soon the sunlight faded.Year still after year flowsdown the Seven Rivers;cloud passes, sunlight glows,reed and willow quiversat morn and eve, but never morewestward ships have wadedin mortal waters as before,and their song has faded.