Great gain
To us the way love pointed plain,
To win the gates of Paradise through pain.
Reckless and vain
The whim that caused my lover's love to dim;
Great ever was my gentleness to him.
Liadan am I,
And Curithir I loved; it is no lie,
He would not doubt me now if he were by.
Short while were we
Together in the closest intimacy,
Sweet was the time to him, and sweet to me.
The music of the lightly waving tree,
When Curithir was here, would sing to me,
With the deep voice of the empurpled sea.
Surely to-day
No whim of mine would turn his heart away,
No senseless act or speech, do what I may.
And to myself I say,
My love to him was given, my heart, unshriven,
At his dear feet I lay.
My heart is flame,
A tempest heat no ice on earth can tame,
I cry "I was to blame! I was to blame!"
FOOTNOTES:
[106] A play on Curithir's patronymic, Mac Doborchon, i.e. "Son of the Otter."