Who will be crying, who will be crying’
To Lior the watcher, the emerald-eyed?
Is there a story that men will be dying
For me, as their fathers, my lovers, have died?
To Lior the watcher, the emerald-eyed?
Is there a story that men will be dying
For me, as their fathers, my lovers, have died?
Who will be singing, who will be singing
Of waking to me who awaken no more?
For men have forgot me, and no winds are bringing
The lives for my drowning they brought me before.
Of waking to me who awaken no more?
For men have forgot me, and no winds are bringing
The lives for my drowning they brought me before.
Angus. Awake, awake, Lior, the time is gone for sleeping;
The hearts of men remember the haunter of the waves;
Let your tides awake, for soon they will be keeping
The watch they kept of old time upon your lovers’ graves.
The hearts of men remember the haunter of the waves;
Let your tides awake, for soon they will be keeping
The watch they kept of old time upon your lovers’ graves.
[The murmur of the sea swells into a roar, and the darkness in the west lightens to an emerald glow. From it Lior speaks.
Lior. Awake my waters, for men are returning
From the new god to the lord of the tide.
On the rocks of drowning no watch-fires are burning,
For men have remembered the emerald-eyed.
From the new god to the lord of the tide.
On the rocks of drowning no watch-fires are burning,
For men have remembered the emerald-eyed.
Awake my waters. The north wind is blowing,
And seaward the sailors are toiling in vain,
And seaward the sailors are toiling in vain,
74
