from the bend at the Harlond,
so flowed that from the City
men could look down it lengthwise
for some leagues,
and the far-sighted could see
any ships that approached.
And looking thither they cried in dismay;
for black against the glittering stream
they beheld a fleet borne up on the wind:
and ships of great draught with many oars,
and with black sails bellying in the breeze.
‘The Corsairs of Umbar!’ men shouted.
‘The Corsairs of Umbar!
Look! The Corsairs of Umbar are coming!
So Belfalas is taken, and the Ethir, and Lebennin is gone.
The Corsairs are upon us! It is the last stroke of doom!’