Far Over the Misty Mountains Cold - Dwarrowdelf

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