The Lordly Ones
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)
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.