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Now, after sundered from the Continent;
This Isle lay empty, a land of cloud and frost,
And forest of wild beasts; till creeping time
Brought man's kin forth. Then Fathers of the World,
Begate the nations. Last few fisher folk,
Passed, driven by tempest, from the Mainland's coast.
They feeble of stature, clad in fells of beasts;
(Whose weapons, in their hands, were sharp flint stones,)
The river strands possessed, and wild salt shores.
To them were holes, delved underground, for bowers:
Trees were and streams and hills and stars, their gods.