SONGS of the Land

Golden boy with feet of clay,

Let me help you on your way.

A proper push will take you far--

But what a clumsy lad you are!

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 Lord Foul's Bane, Chapter 1 - Golden Boy

These are the pale deaths

which men miscall their lives:

for all the scents of green things growing,

each breath is but an exhalation of the grave.

Bodies jerk like puppet corpses,

and hell walks laughing--

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 Lord Foul's Bane, Chapter 2 - You Cannot Hope

Something there is in beauty

which grows in the soul of the beholder

like a flower:

fragile--

for many are the blights

which may waste

the beauty

or the beholder--

and imperishable--

for the beauty may die,

or the beholder may die,

or the world may die,

but the soul in which the flower grows

survives.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 Lord Foul's Bane, Chapter 5 – Mithil Stonedown

In war men pass like shadows that stain the grass,

Leaving their lives upon the green:

While Earth bewails the crimson sheen,

Men's dreams and stars and whispers all helpless pass.

In one red shadow by woe and wicked cast,

In one red pool about his feet,

Derek mows the vile like ripe wheat,

Though of all of Beauty's guarders he is last:

Last to pass into the shadow of defeat,

And last to feel the full despair,

And leave his weapons lying there--

Take his half unhanded hand from battle seat.

Across the plains of the Land they all swept-—

Treachers lust at faltering stride

As Berek fled before the tide,

Till on Mount Thunder's rock-mantled side he wept.

Berek! Earthfriend!-- Help and weal,

Battle-aid against the foe!

Earth gives and answers Power's peal,

Ringing, Earthfriend! Help and heal!

Clean the Land from bloody death and woe!

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 Lord Foul's Bane, Chapter 6 – Legend of Berek Halfhand

Stone and Sea are deep in life,

two unalterable symbols of the world:

permanence at rest, and permanence in motion;

participants in the Power that remains.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 Lord Foul's Bane, Chapter 11 – The Unhomed

We are the Unhomed--

lost voyagers of the world.

In the land beyond the Sunbirth Sea

we lived and had our homes and grew--

and set our sails to the wind,

unheeding of the peril of the lost.

We are the Unhomed.

From home and hearth,

stone sacred dwellings crafted by our reverent hands,

we set our sails to the wind of the stars,

and carried life to lands across the earth,

careless of the peril of our loss.

We are the Unhomed--

lost voyagers of the world.

From desert shore to high cliff crag,

home of men and sylvan sea-edge faery lands--

from dream to dream we set our sails,

and smiled at the rainbow of our loss.

Now we are Unhomed,

bereft of root and kith and kin.

From other mysteries of delight,

we set our sails to resail our track;

but the winds of life blew not the way we chose,

and the land beyond the Sea was lost.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 Lord Foul's Bane, Chapter 11 – The Unhomed

For we will not rest--

not turn aside,

lost faith,

or fail--

until the Gray flows Blue,

and Rill and Maerl are as new and clean

as ancient Llurallin.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 Lord Foul's Bane, Chapter 12 – Revelstone

Giant-troth Revelstone, ancient ward--

Heart and door of Earthfriend's main:

Preserve the true with Power's sword,

Thou ages-Keeper, mountain-reign!

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 Lord Foul's Bane, Chapter 12 – Revelstone

Seven Wards of ancient Lore

For Land's protection, wall and door:

And one High Lord to wield the Law

To keep all uncorrupt Earth's Power's core.

Seven Words for ill's despite--

Banes for evil's dooming wight:

And one pure Lord to hold the Staff

To bar the Land from Foul's betraying sight.

Seven hells for failed faith,

For Land's betrayers, man and wraith:

And one brave Lord to deal the doom

To keep the blacking blight from Beauty's bloom.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 Lord Foul's Bane, Chapter 13 – Vespers

raw Earth rock--

pure friendship--

a handmark of allegiance and fealty in the

eternal stone of time.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 Lord Foul's Bane, Chapter 14 – The Council of Lords

There is wild magic graven in every rock,

contained for white gold to unleash or control—-

gold, rare metal, not born of the Land,

nor ruled, limited, subdued

by the Law with which the Land was created

(for the Land is beautiful,

as if it were a strong soul's dream of peace and harmony,

and Beauty is not possible without discipline-—

and the Law which gave birth to Time

is the Land's Creator's self-control)-—

but keystone rather, pivot, crux

for the anarchy out of which Time was made,

and with Time Earth,

and with Earth those who people it:

wild magic restrained in every particle of life,

and unleashed or controlled by gold

(not born of the Land)

because that power is the anchor of the arch of life

that spans and masters Time:

and white--white gold,

not ebon, ichor, incarnadine, viridian—-

because white is the hue of bone:

structure of flesh,

discipline of life.

This power is a paradox,

because Power does not exist without Law,

and wild magic has no Law;

and white gold is a paradox,

because it speaks for the bone of life,

but has no part of the Land.

And he who wields white wild magic gold

is a paradox-—

for he is everything and nothing,

hero and fool,

potent, helpless-—

and with the one word of truth or treachery,

he will save or damn the Earth

because he is mad and sane,

cold and passionate,

lost and found.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 Lord Foul's Bane, Chapter 14 – The Council of Lords

Do not hurt where holding is enough;

do not wound where hurting is enough;

do not maim where wounding is enough;

and kill not where maiming is enough;

the greatest warrior is one who does not need to kill.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 Lord Foul's Bane, Chapter 15 – The Great Challenge

Death reaps the beauty of the world—-

bundles old crops to hasten new.

Be still, heart:

hold peace.

Growing is better than decay:

I hear the blade which severs life from life.

Be still, peace:

hold heart.

Death is passing on—-

the making way of life and time for life.

Hate dying and killing, not death.

Be still, heart:

make no expostulation.

Hold peace and grief

and be still.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 Lord Foul's Bane, Chapter 17 – End in Fire

Run, Ranyhyn:

gallop, play--

feed, and drink, and coat-gloss gleam.

You are the marrow of the earth.

No rein will curb, or bit control--

no claw or fang unpunished rend;

no horse-blood drop without the healing grass.

We are the Ramen, born to serve:

Manethrall curry,

Cord protect,

Winhome hearth and bed anneal--

our feet do not bear our hearts away.

Grass-grown hooves, and forehead stars;

hocks and withers earth-wood bloom:

regal Ranyhyn, gallop, run--

we serve the Tail of the Sky,

Mane of the World.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 Lord Foul's Bane, Chapter 19 – Ringthane's Choice

Let go my heart--

Your love makes me look small to myself.

Now, I don't want to give you any hurt,

But what I feel is part of myself:

What you want turns what I've got to dirt--

So let go of my heart.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 The Illearth War, Chapter 2 - Halfhand

Be true, Unbeliever--

Answer the call.

Life is the Giver:

Death ends all.

The promise is truth,

And banes disperse

With promise kept:

But soul's deep curse

On broken faith

And faithless thrall,

For doom of darkness

Covers all.

Be true, Unbeliever--

Answer the call.

Be true.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 The Illearth War, Chapter 3 – The Summoning

"Lord Kevin's Lament"

I stood on the pinnacle of the Earth:

Mount Thunder,

its Lions in full flaming mane,

raised its crest no higher

than the horizons that my gaze commanded;

the Ranyhyn,

hooves unfettered since the Age began,

galloped gladly to my will;

iron-thewed Giants

from beyond the sun's birth in the sea

came to me in ships as mighty as castles,

and cleft my castle from the

raw Earth rock

and gave it to me out of pure friendship—-

a handmark of allegiance and fealty

in the eternal stone of Time;

the Lords under my Watch labored

to find and make manifest

the true purpose of the Earth's Creator,

barred from His creation by the very

power of that purpose--

power graven into the flesh and bone of the Land

by the immutable Law of its creation:

how could I stand so,

so much glory and dominion comprehended

by the outstretch of my arms—-

stand thus,

eye to eye with the Despiser,

and not be dismayed?

Where is the Power that protects

beauty from the decay of life?

preserves truth pure of falsehood?

secures fealty from that slow stain of chaos

which corrupts?

How are we so rendered small by Despite?

Why will the very rocks not erupt

for their own cleansing,

or crumble into dust for shame?

Creator!

When You desecrated this temple,

rid Yourself of this contempt by

inflicting it upon the Land,

did You intend

that beauty and truth should pass utterly from the

Earth?

Have You shaped my fate into the Law of life?

Am I effectless?

Must I preside over,

sanction,

acknowledge with the bitter face of treachery,

approve

the falling of the world?

Ah, Creator!

Timelord and Landsire!

Did You intend

that beauty and truth should pass utterly

from the Earth?

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 The Illearth War, Chapter 8 – Lord Kevin's Lament

Free

Unfettered

Shriven

Free--

Dream that what is dreamed will be:

Hold eyes clasped shut until they see,

And sing the silent prophecy--

And be

Unfettered

Shriven

Free.

Lone

Unfriended

Bondless

Lone--

Drink of loss 'til it is done,

'Till solitude has come and gone,

And silence is communion--

And yet

Unfriended

Bondless

Lone.

Deep

Unbottomed

Endless

Deep--

Touch the true mysterious Keep

Where halls of fealty laugh and weep;

While treachers through the dooming creep

In blood

Unbottomed

Endless

Deep.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 The Illearth War, Chapter 9 – Glimmermere

Friends! comrades!

Proud people of the Land!

There is war upon us;

blood and pain and killing are at hand.

Together we confront the test of death.

Friends and comrades,

remember Peace!

Repeat the Oath with every breath.

Until the end and Time's release,

we bring no fury or despair,

no passion of hatred, spite, or slaughter,

no Desecration to the service of the Land.

We fight to mend, anneal, repair-—

to free the Earth of detestation;

for health and home and wood and stone,

for beauty's fragrant bloom and gleam,

and rivers clear and fair

we strike;

nor will we cease,

let fall our heads to ash and dust,

lose faith and heart and hope and bone.

We strike

until the Land is clean of wrong and pain,

and we have kept our trust.

Let no great whelm of evil wreak despair!

Remember Peace:

brave death!

We are the proud preservers of the Land!

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 The Illearth War, Chapter 12 – Forth to War

Come, Sea!

Obey me!

Raise high!

crash down!

Break rock!

break stone:

crush heart:

grind soul:

rend flesh:

crack whole!

Eat dead

for bread!

Come, Sea!

Obey me!

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 The Illearth War, Chapter 17 – Tull's Tale

Branches spread and tree trunks grow

Through rain and heat and snow and cold:

Though wide world's winds untimely blow,

And earthquakes rock and cliff unseal,

My leaves grow green and seedlings bloom.

Since days before the Earth was old

And time began its walk to doom,

The Forests world's bare rock anneal,

Forbidding dusty waste and death.

I am the Land's Creator's hold:

I inhale all expiring breath,

And breathe out life to bind and heal.

But ax and fire leave me dead,

I know the hate of hands grown bold.

Depart to save your heart-sap's red:

My hate knows neither rest nor weal.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 The Illearth War, Chapter 20 – Garroting Deep

When last comes to last,

I have little power:

I am merely an urn.

I hold the bone-sap of myself,

And watch the marrow burn.

When last comes to last,

I have little strength:

I am only a tool.

I work its work; and in its hands

I am the fool.

When last comes to last,

I have little life.

I am simply a deed:

an action done while courage holds;

a seed.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 The Power that Preserves, Chapter 13 – The Healer

Hail, Unbeliever! Keeper and Covenant,

Unoathed truth and wicked's bane,

Ur-Lord Illender, Prover of Life:

Hail! Covenant!

Dour-handed wild magic wielder,

Ur-Earth white gold's servant and Lord—-

Yours is the power that preserves.

Sing out, people of the Land—-

Raise obeisance!

Hold honor and glory high to the end of days:

Keep clean the truth that was won!

Hail, Unbeliever!

Covenant!

Hail!

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 The Power that Preserves, Chapter 21 – Leper's End

Your will is mine—-

You have no hope of life without me,

Have no life or hope without me.

All is mine.

Your heart is mine—-

There is no love or peace within you,

Is no peace or love within you.

All is mine.

Your soul is mine—-

You cannot dream of your salvation,

Cannot plead for your salvation.

You are mine.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 The Wounded Land, Chapter 4 – You Are Mine

'Oh, come, my love, and bed with me;

Your mate knows neither lust nor heart-—

Forget him in this ecstasy.

I joy to play the treacher's part.'

Acute with blandishments and spells

Spoke a-Jeroth of the Seven Hells.

Diassomer Mininderain,

The mate of might, and Master's wife,

All stars' and heavens' chatelaine,

With power over realm and strife,

Attended well, the story tells,

To a-Jeroth of the Seven Hells.

With a-Jeroth the lady ran;

Diassomer with fear and dread

Led from the Master's ruling span.

On Earth she hides her trembling head,

While all about her laughter wells

From a-Jeroth of the Seven Hells.

‘Forgive!' she cries with woe and pain;

Her treacher's laughter hurts her sore.

‘His blandishments have been my bane.

I yearn my Master to adore.'

For in her ears the spurning knells

Of a-Jeroth of the Seven Hells.

Wrath is the Master—-fire and rage.

Retribution fills his hands.

Attacking comes he, sword and gage,

‘Gainst the treachery in all the lands.

Then crippled are the cunning spells

Of a-Jeroth of the Sven Hells.

Mininderain he treats with rue;

No heaven-home for broken trust,

But children given to pursue

All treachery to death and dust.

Thus Earth became a gallow-fells

For a-Jeroth of the Seven Hells.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 The Wounded Land, Chapter 8 – The Corruption of the Sun

Andelain I hold and mold within my fragile spell,

While world's ruin ruins wood and wold.

Sap and bough are grief and grim to me, engrievement fell,

And petals fall without relief.

Astricken by my power's dearth,

I hold the glaive of Law against the Earth.

Andelain I cherish dear within my mortal breast;

And faithful I withhold Despiser's wish.

But faithless is my ache for dreams and slumbering and rest,

And burdens make my courage break.

The Sunbane mocks my best reply,

And all about and in me beauties die.

Andelain! I strive with need and loss, and ascertain

That the Despiser's might can rend and rive.

Each falter of my ancient heartis all the evil's gain;

And it appalls without relent.

I cannot spread my power more,

Though teary visions come of wail and gore.

Oh, Andelain! forgive! For I am doomed to fail this war.

I cannot bear to see you die-—and live,

Foredoomed to bitterness and all the gray Despiser's lore.

But while I can I heed the call

Of green and tree; and for their worth,

I hold the glaive of Law against the Earth.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 The Wounded Land, Chapter 12 – The Andelainian Hills

Three the days of Sunbane's bale:

Three the Rede and sooth:

Three the words na-Mhoram spake:

Three the Corners of Truth.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 The Wounded Land, Chapter 17 – Blood-Speed

Power and blood, and blood and flame:

Soothtell visions without name:

Truth as deep as Revelstone,

Making time and passion known.

Time begone, and space avaunt-—

Nothing may the seeing daunt.

Blood uncovers every lie:

We will know the truth, or die.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 The Wounded Land, Chapter 19 – Soothtell

Let breakers crash against the shore—-

let rocks be rimed with sea and weed,

cliffs carven by the storm—-

let calm becalm the deeps,

or wind appall the waves, and sting—-

and sting—-

nothing overweighs the poise of Sea and Stone.

The rocks and water-battery of Home endure.

We are the Giants,

born to live,

and bold for going where the dreaming goes.

Let world be wide beyond belief,

the ocean be as vast as time—-

let journeys end or fail,

seaquests fall in ice or blast,

and wandering be forever, Roam-—

and roam-—

nothing tarnishes the poise of Sea and Stone.

The hearth and harborage of Home endure.

We are the Giants,

born to sail,

and bold to go wherever dreaming goes.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 The Wounded Land, Chapter 26 – Coercri

Come sea and wave--

broad footpath of those who roam

and gateway to the world!

All ways lead the way to Home.

Come wind and speed--

sky-breath and the life of sail!

Lines and sheets unfurled,

our hearts covet every gale.

Come travel and quest!

Discovery of the Earth:

mysteries unknurled:

roaming without stint or dearth:

Risk and journey save

the heart of life from loss and need.

We are the ocean's guest,

and we love the vasty world!

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 The One Tree, Chapter 2 – Black Mood

My love has eyes which do not glow:

Her loveliness is somewhat formed askew,

With blemishes which number not a few,

And pouting lips o'er teeth not in a row.

Her limbs are doughtier than mine,

And what I do not please to give she takes.

Her hair were better kempt with hoes and rakes,

Her kiss tastes less of diamondraught than brine.

Her odorescence gives me ill:

Her converse is by wit or grace unlit:

Her raiment would become her if it fit.

So think of me with rue: I love her still.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 The One Tree, Chapter 12 – Sea-Harm

Let those who sail the Sea bow down;

Let those who walk bow low:

For there is neither peace nor dream

Where the Appointed go.

Let those who sail the Sea bow down;

For they have never seen

The Earth-wrack rise against the stars

And ruin blowing keen.

Mortality has mortal eyes.

Let those who walk bow low,

For they are chaff before the blast

Of what they do not know.

The price of sight is risk and dare

Or loss of life and all,

For there is neither peace nor dream

When Earth begins to fall.

And therefore let the others bow

Who neither see nor know;

For they are spared from voyaging

Where the Appointed go.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 The One Tree, Chapter 22 – Also Love in the World

My heart has rooms that sigh with dust

And ashes in the hearth.

They must be cleaned and blown away

By daylight's breath.

But I cannot essay the task,

For even dust to me is dear;

For dust and ashes still recall,

My love was here.

I know not how to say Farewell,

When Farewell is the word

That stays alone for me to say

Or will be heard.

But I cannot speak out that word

Or ever let my loved one go:

How can I bear it that these rooms

Are empty so?

I sit among the dust and hope

That dust will cover me.

I stir the ashes in the hearth,

Though cold they be.

I cannot bear to close the door,

To seal my loneliness away

While dust and ashes yet remain

Of my love's day.

--Stephen R. Donaldson, 1977 White Gold Wielder, Chapter 7 – Physician's Plight