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48

And began to think, lest he melt and stink,

What in the moon to do,

When a Yarmouth boat found him far afloat,

To the mazement of the crew

52

Caught in their net all shimmering wet

In a phosphorescent sheen

Of bluey whites and opal lights

And delicate liquid green.

56

With the morning fish—’twas his regal wish—

They packed him to Norwich town,

To get warm on gin in a Norfolk inn,

And dry his watery gown.

60

Though Saint Peter’s knell waked many a bell

In the city’s ringing towers

To shout the news of his lunatic cruise

In the early morning hours,

64

No hearths were laid, not a breakfast made,

And no one would sell him gems;

He found ashes for fire, and his gay desire

For chorus and brave anthems

68

Met snores instead with all Norfolk abed,

And his round heart nearly broke,

More empty and cold than above of old,

Till he bartered his fairy cloak

72

With a half-waked cook for a kitchen nook,

And his belt of gold for a smile,

And a priceless jewel for a bowl of gruel,

A sample cold and vile

76

Of the proud plum-porridge of Anglian Norwich—

He arrived so much too soon

For unusual guests on adventurous quests

From the Mountains of the Moon.

80

It seems very possible that the ‘pallid minaret’ reappears in the ‘little white turret’ which Uolë Kúvion built on the Moon, ‘where often he climbs and watches the heavens, or the world beneath’. The minaret of the Man in the Moon survives in the final version.

The Ocean of Almain is the North Sea (Almain or Almany was a name of Germany in earlier English); the Yare is a Norfolk river which falls into the sea at Yarmouth, and the Nene (pronounced also with a short vowel) flows into the Wash.

IX

THE HIDING OF VALINOR

The link to this tale, which is told by Vairë, has been given at the end of the last (p. 195). The manuscript continues as in the latter part of The Tale of the Sun and Moon (see p. 197 note 19), with an earlier draft also extant, to which reference is made in the notes.

‘Lo, tales I tell of the deep days, and the first is called The Hiding of Valinor.

Already have ye heard,’ said she, ‘of the setting forth of the Sun and Moon upon their wayward journeyings, and many things are there to tell concerning the awakening of the Earth beneath their light; but hear now of the thoughts and deeds of the dwellers in Valinor in those mighty days.

Now is it to tell that so wide were the wanderings of those boats of light that the Gods found it no easy thing to govern all their comings and their goings as they had purposed at the first, and Ilinsor was loath to yield the heaven to Urwendi, and Urwendi set sail often before Ilinsor’s due return, being eager and hot of mood. Wherefore were both vessels often far afloat at one and the same time, and the glory of them sailing most nigh to the very bosom of the Earth, as often they did at that time, was very great and very terrible to see.

Then did a vague uneasiness begin to stir anew in Valinor, and the hearts of the Gods were troubled, and the Eldar spake one to another, and this was their thought.

“Lo, all the world is grown clear as the courtyards of the Gods, straight to walk upon as are the avenues of Vansamírin or the terraces of Kôr; and Valinor no longer is safe, for Melko hates us without ceasing, and he holds the world without and many and wild are his allies there”—and herein in their hearts they1 numbered even the Noldoli, and wronged them in their thought unwittingly, nor did they forget Men, against whom Melko had lied of old. Indeed in the joy of the last burgeoning of the Trees and the great and glad labour of that fashioning of ships the fear of Melko had been laid aside, and the bitterness of those last evil days and of the Gnomefolk’s flight was fallen into slumber—but now when Valinor had peace once more and its lands and gardens were mended of their hurts memory awoke their anger and their