Читать книгу The Lays of Beleriand онлайн | страница 9

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Lo! the lady Morwin in the Land of Shadows105waited in the woodland for her well-beloved;but he came never from the combat home.No tidings told her whether taken or dead,or lost in flight he lingered yet.Laid waste his lands, and his lieges slain,110and men unmindful of his mighty lordshipdwelt in Dorlómin and dealt unkindlywith his widowed wife; and she went with child,who a son must succour now sadly orphaned,Túrin Thaliodrin of tender years.115Then in days of blackness was her daughter born,and was naméd Nienor, a name of tearsthat in language of eld is Lamentation.Then her thoughts turnéd to Thingol the Elf-king,and the dancer of Doriath, his daughter Tinúviel,120whom the boldest of the brave, Beren Ermabwed,had won to wife. He once had knownfirmest friendship to his fellow in arms,Thalion Erithámrod – so thought she now,and said to her son, ‘My sweetest child,125our friends are few, and thy father comes not.Thou must fare afar to the folk of the wood,where Thingol is throned in the Thousand Caves.If he remember Morwin and thy mighty sirehe will fain foster thee, and feats of arms130he will teach thee, the trade of targe and sword,and Thalion’s son no thrall shall be –but remember thy mother when thy manhood nears.’

Heavy boded the heart of Húrin’s son,yet he weened her words were wild with grief,135and he denied her not, for no need him seemed.Lo! henchmen had Morwin, Halog and Gumlin,who were young of yore ere the youth of Thalion,who alone of the lieges of that lord of Mensteadfast in service staid beside her:140now she bade them brave the black mountains,and the woods whose ways wander to evil;though Túrin be tender and to travail unused,they must gird them and go; but glad they were not,and Morwin mourned when men saw not.145

Came a summer day when sun filteredwarm through the woodland’s waving branches.Then Morwin stood her mourning hidingby the gate of her garth in a glade of the woods.At the breast she mothered her babe unweaned,150and the doorpost held lest she droop for anguish.There Gumlin guided her gallant boy,and a heavy burden was borne by Halog;but the heart of Túrin was heavy as stoneuncomprehending its coming anguish.155He sought for comfort, with courage saying:‘Quickly will I come from the courts of Thingol;long ere manhood I will lead to Morwingreat tale of treasure, and true comrades’ –for he wist not the weird woven by Bauglir,160nor the sundering sorrow that swept between.The farewells are taken: their footsteps are turnedto the dark forest: the dwelling fadethin the tangled trees. Then in Túrin leapthis awakened heart, and he wept blindly,165calling ‘I cannot, I cannot leave thee.O Morwin, my mother, why makest me go?Hateful are the hills where hope is lost.O Morwin, my mother, I am meshed in tears.Grim are the hills, and my home is gone.’170And there came his cries calling faintlydown the dark alleys of the dreary trees,and one who wept weary on the thresholdheard how the hills said ‘my home is gone.’