The Lay of Aotrou and Itroun. Verlyn Flieger

of his books now held in the English Faculty Library in Oxford, which shows over a hundred entries for Celtic books, histories, grammars, glosses, and dictionaries, as well as primary mythological texts. Many of these, like the Villemarqué, were purchased in the early 1920s. Tolkien was also in this period working on the stories of his own mythology, so it is not surprising that one activity should influence the other, the Celtic content of his studies affecting the form and subject matter of his creative work. Among other efforts, he was at work on The Lay of Leithian, a long poem in rhymed octosyllabic couplets that tells the great love story of Beren and Lúthien, a story whose textual history has been edited and published by Christopher Tolkien in The Lays of Beleriand.

      Christopher’s Note on the Text of Aotrou and Itroun (see here) cites the ‘fair copy’ on which, as he writes, ‘my father wrote at the end a date: Sept. 23, 1930. This is notable,’ Christopher continues, ‘for dates on the fair copy manuscript of The Lay of Leithian run consecutively for a week from September 25, 1930 (against line 3220), while the previous date on the manuscript is November 1929 (against line 3031, apparently referring forwards).² Clearly then Aotrou and Itroun intersected the composition of Canto X of The Lay of Leithian.’

      No beginning date for Aotrou and Itroun has come to light, but the cluster of dates cited in Christopher’s Note – November 1929 against line 3031 of The Lay of Leithian, Sept. 23 marking the end of the fair copy of Aotrou and Itroun, and Sep. 25 against line 3220 for resumption of work on The Lay of Leithian – support his conclusion that in November of 1929 Tolkien interrupted his copying of Canto X of The Lay of Leithian for almost a year, and that the product of that interruption was Aotrou and Itroun, perhaps even the entire ‘Breton’ sequence beginning with ‘The Corrigan’ I.

      Because all the poems included here interconnect and overlap in their treatment of shared material, it has seemed best for clarity to separate them into shorter sections, each poem followed by notes and commentary. Part I contains the title-poem originally published in The Welsh Review. Part II introduces the two (presumably) preliminary poems leading up to it, which Christopher Tolkien has treated together as a composite, since they are conjoined by title. These are ‘The Corrigan’ I, a story of a changeling, and ‘The Corrigan’ II, subtitled ‘A Breton Lay – after “Aotrou Nann Hag ar Gorrigan” a lay of Leon’. ‘The Corrigan’ II follows closely the Breton source, but is missing the elements mentioned by Christopher, the couple’s childlessness, the Lord’s first visit to the witch, and that she is the fairy of the fountain. Part III includes a transcription of the fair manuscript which adds those elements, and facsimile pages from the emended typescript which was the base text for the finished poem published in The Welsh Review. Part IV compares Tolkien’s poems with verses from the original Breton text and its contemporary French and English translations.

PART ONE

       The Lay of Aotrou and Itroun

      as published in The Welsh Review

      In Britain’s land beyond the seas

      the wind blows ever through the trees;

      in Britain’s land beyond the waves

      are stony shores and stony caves.

      There stands a ruined toft³ now green

      5

      where lords and ladies once were seen,

      where towers were piled above the trees

      and watchmen scanned the sailing seas.

      Of old a lord in archéd hall

      with standing stones yet grey and tall

      10

      there dwelt, till dark his doom befell,

      as still the Briton harpers tell.

      No child he had his house to cheer,

      to fill his courts with laughter clear;

      though wife he wooed and wed with ring,

      15

      who love to board and bed did bring,

      his pride was empty, vain his hoard,

      without an heir to land and sword.

      Thus pondering oft at night awake

      his darkened mind would visions make

      20

      of lonely age and death; his tomb

      unkept, while strangers in his room

      with other names and other shields

      were masters of his halls and fields.

      Thus counsel cold he took at last;

      25

      his hope from light to darkness passed.

      A witch there was, who webs could weave

      to snare the heart and wits to reave,⁴

      who span dark spells with spider-craft,

      and as she span she softly laughed;

      30

      a drink she brewed of strength and dread

      to bind the quick and stir the dead.

      In a cave she housed where winging bats

      their harbour sought, and owls and cats

      from hunting came with mournful cries,

      35

      night-stalking near with needle eyes.

      In the homeless hills was her hollow dale,

      black was its bowl, its brink was pale;

      there silent on a seat of stone

      before her cave she sat alone.

      40

      Dark was her door, and few there came,

      whether man, or beast that man doth tame.

      In Britain’s land beyond the waves

      are stony hills and stony caves;

      the wind blows ever over hills

      45

      and hollow caves with wailing fills.

      The sun was fallen low and red,

      behind the hills the day was dead,

      and in the valley formless lay

      the misty shadows long and grey.

      50

      Alone between the dark and light

      there rode into the mouth of night

      the Briton lord, and creeping fear

      about him closed. Dismounting near

      he slowly then with lagging feet

      55

      went halting to the stony seat.

      His words came faltering on the wind,

      while silent sat the crone and grinned.

      Few words he needed; for her eyes

      were dark and piercing, filled with lies,

      60

      yet needle-keen all lies to probe.

      He shuddered in his sable robe.

      His name she knew, his need, his thought,