Words by Poul Anderson, Music by Kathy Sobansky

It was the ranger Arvid rode homeward through the hills
Among the shadowy shiverleafs, along the chiming Hills
And dreaming of that woman who waited neath the sun,
He stopped, amazed by starlight, and thus he was undone

The Dance Weaves Under the Firethorn

For there beneath a barrow that bulked athwart a moon,
The Outling folk were dancing in glass and golden shoon.
The Outling folk were dancing like water, wind and fire
To softly ringing harpstrings, and never did they tire.

The Dance Weaves Under the Firethorn

To Arvid she came striding from where she watched the dance,
The Queen of Air and Darkness, with starlight in her glance.
With starlight, love and terror in her immortal eye,
The Queen of Air and Darkness cried softly under sky.

The Dance Weaves Under the Firethorn

Light down, you ranger Arvid, and join the Outling folk.
You need no more be human, which is a heavy yoke.
He dared to give her answer: "I may do naught but run.
A maiden waits me, dreaming in lands beneath the sun.

The Dance Weaves Under the Firethorn

So wreak your spells, you Outling, and cast your wrath on me.
Though maybe you can slay me, you'll not make me unfree."
The Queen of Air and Darkness stood wrapped about with fear
And northlight, flares and beauty. He dared not look too near.

The Dance Weaves Under the Firethorn

Until she laughed like harpsong and said to him in scorn:
"I do not need a magic to make you always mourn.
I leave you here with nothing except your memory
Of moonlight, Outling music, night breezes, dew and me.
And this will run behind you, a shadow on the sun,
And this will lie beside you when your day's work is done.
Your dull and foolish woman treat kindly as you can.
Go home now, ranger Arvid, set free to be a man!"

In flickering and laughter the Outling folk were gone.
He stood alone by moonlight and wept until the dawn.

The Dance Weaves Under the Firethorn
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11/25/2006