In days of yore out of deep Ocean 
 to the Longobards, in the land dwelling 
 that of old they held amid the isles of the North, 
 a ship came sailing, shining-timbered 
 without oar and mast, eastward floating. 
 The sun behind it sinking westward 
 with flame kindled the fallow water. 
 Wind was wakened. Over the world's margin 
 clouds greyhelmed climbed slowly up 
 wings unfolding wide and looming,
 as mighty eagles moving onward 
 to eastern Earth omen bearing. 
 Men there marvelled, in the mist standing 
 of the dark islands in the deeps of time: 
 laughter they knew not, light nor wisdom; 
 shadow was upon them, and sheer mountains 
 stalked behind them stern and lifeless, 
 evilhaunted. The East was dark. 

 The ship came shining to the shore driven 
 and strode upon the strand, till its stem rested 
 on sand and shingle. The sun went down. 
 The clouds overcame the cold heavens. 
 In fear and wonder to the fallow water 
 sadhearted men swiftly hastened 
 to the broken beaches the boat seeking, 
 gleaming-timbered in the grey twilight. 
 They looked within, and there laid sleeping 
 a boy they saw breathing softly: 
 his face was fair, his form lovely, 
 his limbs were white, his locks raven 
 golden-braided. Gilt and carven 
 with wondrous work was the wood about him. 
 In golden vessel gleaming water 
 stood beside him; strung with silver 
 a harp of gold neath his hand rested; 
 his sleeping head was soft pillowed 
 on a sheaf of corn shimmering palely 
 as the fallow gold doth from far countries 
 west of Angol. Wonder filled them. 

 The boat they hauled and on the beach moored it 
 high above the breakers; then with hands lifted 
 from the bosom its burden. The boy slumbered. 
 On his bed they bore him to their bleak dwellings
 darkwalled and drear in a dim region 
 between waste and sea. There of wood builded 
 high above the houses was a hall standing 
 forlorn and empty. Long had it stood so, 
 no noise knowing, night nor morning, 
 no light seeing. They laid him there, 
 under lock left him lonely sleeping 
 in the hollow darkness. They held the doors. 
 Night wore away. New awakened 
 as ever on earth early morning; 
 day came dimly. Doors were opened. 
 Men strode within, then amazed halted; 
 fear and wonder filled the watchmen. 
 The house was bare, hall deserted; 
 no form found they on the Hoor lying, 
 but by bed forsaken the bright vessel 
 dry and empty in the dust standing. 

 The guest was gone. Grief o'ercame them. 
 In sorrow they sought him, till the sun rising 
 over the hills of heaven to the homes of men 
 light came bearing. They looked upward 
 and high upon a hill hoar and treeless 
 the guest beheld they: gold was shining 
 in his hair, in hand the harp he bore; 
 at his feet they saw the fallow-golden 
 cornsheaf lying. Then clear his voice 
 a song began, sweet, unearthly, 
 words in music woven strangely, 
 in tongue unknown.   Trees stood silent
 and men unmoving marvelling hearkened. 

 Middle-earth had known for many ages
 neither song nor singer; no sight so fair
 had eyes of mortal, since the earth was young,
 seen when waking in that sad country
 long forsaken.   No lord they had,
 no king nor counsel, but the cold terror
 had dwelt in the desert, the dark shadow 
 that haunted the hills and the hoar forest.
 Dread was their master.   Dark and silent,
 long years forlorn, lonely waited
 the hall of kings, house forsaken
 without fire or food.

                 Forth men hastened
 from their dim houses. Doors were opened 
 and gates unbarred. Gladness wakened. 
 To the hill they thronged, and their heads lifting 
 on the guest they gazed. Greybearded men 
 bowed before him and blessed his coming 
 their years to heal; youths and maidens, 
 wives and children welcome gave him. 
 His song was ended. Silent standing 
 he looked upon them. Lord they called him; 
 king they made him, crowned with golden 
 wheaten garland, white his raiment, 
 his harp his sceptre. In his house was fire, 
 food and wisdom; there fear came not. 
 To manhood he grew, might and wisdom. 

 Sheave they called him, whom the ship brought them, 
 a name renowned in the North countries 
 ever since in song. For a secret hidden 
 his true name was, in tongue unknown 
 of far countries where the falling seas 
 wash western shores beyond the ways of men 
 since the world worsened. The word is forgotten 
 and the name perished. 

                       Their need he healed, 
 and laws renewed long forsaken. 
 Words he taught them wise and lovely - 
 their tongue ripened in the time of Sheave 
 to song and music. Secrets he opened 
 runes revealing. Riches he gave them, 
 reward of labour, wealth and comfort 
 from the earth calling, acres ploughing, 
 sowing in season seed of plenty, 
 hoarding in garner golden harvest 
 for the help of men. The hoar forests 
 in his days drew back to the dark mountains; 
 the shadow receded, and shining corn, 
 white ears of wheat, whispered in the breezes 
 where waste had been. The woods trembled. 

 Halls and houses hewn of timber, 
 strong towers of stone steep and lofty, 
 golden-gabled, in his guarded city 
 they raised and roofed. In his royal dwelling 
 of wood well-carven the walls were wrought; 
 fair-hued figures filled with silver, 
 gold and scarlet, gleaming hung there, 
 stories boding of strange countries, 
 were one wise in wit the woven legends 
 to thread with thought. At his throne men found 
 counsel and comfort and care's healing, 
 justice in judgement. Generous-handed 
 his gifts he gave. Glory was uplifted. 
 Far sprang his fame over fallow water, 
 through Northern lands the renown echoed 
 of the shining king, Sheave the mighty. 

 At the end of (ii) occur eight lines which seem to have been added to the
 text; they were also inserted in pencil to the 'prose' text (i), here written
 in as verse-lines, with a further eight lines following (the whole passage of
 sixteen lines was struck through, hut it was used afterwards in The
 Notion Club Papers, in the form of an addition to the poem proper). 

 Seven sons he begat, sires of princes, 
 men great in mind, mighty-handed 
 and high-hearted. From his house cometh 
 the seeds of kings, as songs tell us, 
 fathers of the fathers, who before the change 
 in the Elder Years the earth governed, 
 Northern kingdoms named and founded, 
 shields of their peoples: Sheave begat them: 
 Sea-danes and Goths, Swedes and Northmen, 
 Franks and Frisians, folk of the islands, 
 Swordmen and Saxons, Swabes and English, 
 and the Langobards who long ago 
 beyond Myrcwudu a mighty realm 
 and wealth won them in the Welsh countries 
 where Ælfwine Eadwine's heir 
 in Italy was king. All that has passed.