Beren’s plea

Beren’s plea


O Tinuviel, o Tinuviel.
O lady fair, of the Elves.
The day grows dim,
The sun has set;
Earendil has set out again
Across the starry skies.
How far must I run?
To what end must I follow,
To meet you for a fleeting moment.
O Tinuviel, Tinuviel!
Do not flee from me
For my feet are a-weary.
My breath shortens,
Yet my heart beats stronger.
Fear me not, for I am no omen
Nor a herald of Darkness.
I bring no doom to thee,
E’en though
Doom pursues me.
O lady elven-fair, stay yet a while
And let me glimpse the face
That no mortal has ever beheld.
Hearken to my plea,
And I will pursue you no more.