Jul 022011
 

How beautiful they are,

The lordly ones

Who dwell in the hills,

In the hollow hills.

They have faces like flowers

And their breath is wind

That blows over grass

Filled with dewy clover.

Their limbs are more white

Than shafts of moonshine:

They are more fleet

Than the March wind.

They laugh and are glad

And are terrible:

When their lances shake

Every green reed quivers.

How beautiful they are

How beautiful

They lordly ones

In the hollow hills.

Etain, The Immortal Hour, Fiona Macleod (William Sharp)

  One Response to “The Lordly Ones”

  1. And I am Etain called,
    Daughter of lordly ones, of princely line,
    But more I cannot say, for on my mind
    A strange forgetful cloud bewilders me,
    And I have memory only of those things
    Of which I cannot speak, being under bond
    To keep the silence of my lordly folk.
    How I came here, or to what end, or why
    I am left here, I know not.

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