Ode to Cirdan
		Great Cirdan wise on Mithlond's quay, Dwelt shipwright proud and skilled. Yet sorrow marred his Elven heart, And kindled longing to depart, Spread sails on his grey silver ship, To pass across the ocean vast, By way that Men no longer find, Aside the last forsaken isles, Across the sunken Westernesse, Into the guarded seas beyond; Where distant veils may part at last, And Avallone's tower light the way, That mariners with joy does fill, For Aman's shores draw near at hand. Praise sweet and blessed undying land! But Cirdan's call for Elvenfolk, Was to guard and guide, help and protect. And his true love was skill of ships, To work with timber, ropes and masts, Yet his full joy lay with the sea. Hark, when the sun sank weary down, Over the ocean's farthest West, And her red rays pierced wand'ring clouds, While Elbereth her stars did place, Then Cirdan and his folk would sit, On Ulmo's shores and sing great lays, Of valour tales and ancient days, Of Beren and Tinuviel, And how the Silmaril they won, Of Earendil that took that star, In hope across the ocean bore. Yet by and by the ages changed, Uncounted tides pounded the shale, And Arda did grow older still, As Elves and Elvenfriends did pass, Onto the barks of Cirdan's hand, Upon that land no more to gaze; Where they were weaned and learned to love, That land they left, and left to change, As mallorn trees their last boughs spread, Fair niphredil could grow no more, And elanor did fade from memory. That wind of change touched Cirdan too, As Firstborn left the day of Men. To vales beyond still beckoning. At length, he too, unfurled his sails, And solemnly away did glide, Into that golden setting sun, To join the promised Western Land.
	This article was published in Aglared 15 (2000). <== back to article list
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