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J.R.R. Tolkin — Far Over the Misty Mountains Cold
Artist: → J.R.R. Tolkin
J.R.R. Tolkin — Far Over the Misty Mountains Cold — lyrics
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 necklacеs they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns thеy 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
Song of Durin:The world was young, the mountains green
No stain yet on the Moon was seen
No words were laid on stream or stone
When Durin woke and walked alone
He named the nameless hills and dells;
He drank from yet untasted wells;
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere
And saw a crown of stars appear
As gems upon a silver thread
Above the shadows of his head
The world is grey, the mountains old
The forge’s fire is ashen-cold;
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:
The darkness dwells in Durin’s halls;
The shadow lies upon his tomb
In Moria, in Khazad-dûm
But still the sunken stars appear
In dark and windless Mirrormere;
There lies his crown in water deep
Till Durin wakes again from sleep
Part 2:
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 by night and 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
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
On silver necklaces they strung
The light of stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, from twisted wire
The melody of harps they wrung
The mountain throne once more is freed!
O! Wandering folk, the summons heed!
Come haste! Come haste! Across the waste!
The king of friend and kin has need
Now we call over the mountains cold
‘Come back unto the caverns old!’
Here at the Gates the king awaits
His hands are rich with gems and gold
The king has come unto his hall
Under the Mountain dark and tall
The Worm of Dread is slain and dead
And ever so our foes shall fall!
Farewell we call to hearth and hall
Though wind may blow and rain may fall
We must away, ere break of day
Far over the wood and mountain tall
To Rivendell, where Elves yet dwell
In glades beneath the misty fell
Through moor and waste we ride in haste
And whither then we cannot tell
With foes ahead, behind us dread
Beneath the sky shall be our bed
Until at last our toil be passed
Our journey done, our errand sped
We must away! We must away!
We ride before the break of day!
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