An Elven-maid there was of old, When dawn came dim and the land was lost,
A shining star by day: The mountains sinking grey
Her mantle white was hemmed with gold, Beyond the heaving waves that tossed
Her shoes of silver grey. Their plumes of blinding spray.
A star was bound upon her brows, Amroth beheld the fading shore
A light was on her hair Now low beyond the swell,
As sun upon the golden boughs And cursed the faithless ship that bore
In Lorien the fair. Him far from Nimrodel.
Her hair was long, her limbs were white, Of old he was an Elven-king,
And fair she was and free; A lord of tree and glen,
And in the wind she went as light When golden were the boughs in spring
As leaf of linden-tree. In fair Lothlorien.
Besides the falls of Nimrodel, From helm to sea they saw him leap,
By water clear and cool, As arrow from the string,
Her voice as falling silver fell And dive into the water deep,
Into the shining pool. As mew upon the wing.
Where now she wanders none can tell, The wind was in his flowing hair,
In sunlight or in shade; The foam about him shone;
For lost of yore was Nimrodel Afar they saw him strong and fair
And in the mountains strayed. Go riding like a swan.
The elven-ship in haven grey But from the West has come no word,
Beneath the mountain-lee And on the Hither Shore
Awaited her for many a day No tidings Elven-folk have heard
Beside the roaring sea. Of Amroth evermore.
A wind by night in Northern lands
Arose, and loud it cried,
And drove the ship from elven-strands
Across the streaming tide.