| Far over the misty mountains cold
|
| To dungeons deep and caverns old
|
| We must away ere break of day
|
| To seek the pale enchanted gold
|
| The dwarves of yore made mighty spells
|
| While hammers fell like ringing bells
|
| In places deep, where dark things sleep
|
| In hollow halls beneath the fells
|
| For ancient king and elvish lord
|
| There many a gleaming golden hoard
|
| They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
|
| To hide in gems on hilt of sword
|
| On silver necklaces they strung
|
| The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
|
| The dragon-fire, in twisted wire
|
| They meshed the light of moon and sun
|
| Far over the misty mountains cold
|
| To dungeons deep and caverns old
|
| We must away, ere break of day
|
| To claim our long-forgotten gold
|
| Goblets they carved there for themselves
|
| And harps of gold; |
| where no man delves
|
| There lay they long, and many a song
|
| Was sung unheard by men or elves
|
| The pines were roaring on the height
|
| The winds were moaning in the night
|
| The fire was red, it flaming spread;
|
| The trees like torches blazed with light
|
| The bells were ringing in the dale
|
| And men they looked up with faces pale;
|
| The dragon’s ire more fierce than fire
|
| Laid low their towers and houses frail
|
| The mountain smoked beneath the moon;
|
| The dwarves they heard the tramp of doom
|
| They fled their hall to dying fall
|
| Beneath his feet, beneath the moon
|
| Far over the misty mountains grim
|
| To dungeons deep and caverns dim
|
| We must away, ere break of day
|
| To win our harps and gold from him!
|
| The wind was on the withered heath
|
| But in the forest stirred no leaf:
|
| There shadows lay be night or day
|
| And dark things silent crept beneath
|
| The wind came down from mountains cold
|
| And like a tide it roared and rolled;
|
| The branches groaned, the forest moaned
|
| And leaves were laid upon the mould
|
| The wind went on from West to East;
|
| All movement in the forest ceased
|
| But shrill and harsh across the marsh
|
| Its whistling voices were released
|
| The grasses hissed, their tassels bent
|
| The reeds were rattling--on it went
|
| O’er shaken pool under heavens cool
|
| Where racing clouds were torn and rent
|
| It passed the Lonely Mountain bare
|
| And swept above the dragon’s lair:
|
| There black and dark lay boulders stark
|
| And flying smoke was in the air
|
| It left the world and took its flight
|
| Over the wide seas of the night
|
| The moon set sail upon the gale
|
| And stars were fanned to leaping light
|
| Under the Mountain dark and tall
|
| The King has come unto his hall!
|
| His foe is dead, the Worm of Dread
|
| And ever so his foes shall fall
|
| The sword is sharp, the spear is long
|
| The arrow swift, the Gate is strong;
|
| The heart is bold that looks on gold;
|
| The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong |