| In that vast shadow once of yore | |
| Fingolfin stood: his shield he bore | |
| with filed of heaven's blue and star | |
| of crystal shining pale afar. | |
| In overmastering wrath and hate | (5) |
| desperate he smote upon that gate, | |
| the Elvish king, there standing lone, | |
| while endless fortresses of stone | |
| engulfed the thin clear ringing keen | |
| of silver horn on baldric green. | (10) |
| His hopeless challenge dauntless cried | |
| Figolfin there: 'Come, open wide, | |
| dark king, your ghastly brazen doors! | |
| Come forth, whom earth an heaven abhors! | |
| Come forth, O monstrous craven lord, | (15) |
| and fight with thine own hand and sword, | |
| thou wilder of hosts of banded thralls, | |
| thou tyrant leaguered with strong walls, | |
| foe of Valar and elvish race! | |
| I wait thee here. Come! Show thy face!' | (20) |
| Then Morgoth came. For the last time | |
| in those great wars he dared to climb | |
| from subterranean throne profound, | |
| the rumour of his feet a sound | |
| of rumbling earthquake underground. | (25) |
| Black-armoured, towering, iron-crowned | |
| he issued forth; his mighty shield | |
| a vast unblazoned sable field | |
| with shadow like a thundercloud; | |
| and o'er the the gleaming king it bowed, | (30) |
| as huge aloft like mace he hurled | |
| that hammer of the underworld, | |
| Grond. Clanging to ground it tumbled | |
| down like a thunder-bolt, and curmbled | |
| the rocks beneath it; smoke up-started, | (35) |
| a pit yawned, and a fire darted. | |
| Fingolfin like a shooting light | |
| beneath a cloud, a stab of white, | |
| sprang then aside, and Ringil drew | |
| like ice that gleameth cold and blue, | (40) |
| his sword devised of elvish skill | |
| to pierce the flesh with deadly chill. | |
| With seven wounds it rent his foe, | |
| and seven mighty cries of woe | |
| rang in the mountains, and the earth quook, | (45) |
| and Angbands trembling armies shook. | |
| Orcs dared not after quaking tell | |
| of that great duel at the gates of hell; | |
| though elvish song thereof was made | |
| ere this but one - when sad was laid | (50) |
| the mighty king in barrow high, | |
| and Thorondor, Eagle of the sky, | |
| the dreadful tidings brought and told | |
| to mourning Elvenesse of old. | |
| Thrice was Fingolgin with great blows | (55) |
| to his knees beaten, thrice he rose | |
| still leaping up beneath the cloud | |
| aloft, to hold, star-shinging, proud, | |
| his stricken shield, his sundered helm, | |
| that dark nor might could overwhelm, | (60) |
| 'till all the earth was burst and rent | |
| in pits about him. He was spent. | |
| His feet stumbled. He fell to wreck | |
| upon the ground, and on his neck | |
| a foot like rooted hills was set, | (65) |
| and he was crushed - not conquered yet; | |
| one last despairing stroke he gave: | |
| the mighty foot pale Ringil clave | |
| about the heel, and black the blood | |
| gushed as from smoking fount in flood. | (70) |
| Halt goes for ever from that stroke | |
| great Morgoth; but the king he broke, | |
| and would have hewn and mangled thrown | |
| to wolves devouring. Lo, from throne | |
| that Manwë bade him build on high, | (75) |
| on peak unscaled beneath the sky, | |
| Morgoth to watch, now down there swooped | |
| Thorondor, King of Eagles, stooped | |
| and rending beak of gold he smote | |
| in Bauglir's face, then up did float | (80) |
| on pinions thirty fathoms wide, | |
| bearing away, while loud he cried, | |
| the mgihty corse, the Elven-king. | |
| And where the mountains make a ring | |
| far to the south about that plain | (85) |
| where secret Gondolin did reign, | |
| embattled city, at great height | |
| upon a dizzy snowcap white | |
| in mounded cairn the mighty dead | |
| he laid upon the mountain's head. | (90) |
| Never Orc nor demon after dared | |
| that pass to climb, o'er which there stared | |
| Fingolfin's high and holy tomb, | |
| 'till Gondolin's appointed doom. | |
| Thus Bauglir earned the furrowed scar | (95) |
| that his dark countenance doth mar, | |
| and thus his limping gait he gained; | |
| but afterward profound he reigned | |
| darkling upon his hidden throne; | |
| and thunderous paced his halls of stone, | (100) |
| slow building there his vast design | |
| the world in thralldom to confine. | |
| Wielder of armies, lord of woe, | |
| no rest now gave he slave or foe; | |
| his watch and ward he thrice increased, | (105) |
| his spies were sent from West to East | |
| and tidings brought from all the North, | |
| who fought, who fell; who ventured forth, | |
| who wrought in secret; who had hoard; | |
| if maid were fair or proud were lord; | (110) |
| well nigh all things he knew, al hearts | |
| well nigh enmeshed in evil arts. | |
| Doriath only, beyond the veil | |
| woven by Melian, no assail | |
| could hurt or enter; only rumour dim | (115) |
| of things there passing came to him. | |
| A rumour loud and tidings clear | |
| of other movements far and near | |
| among his foes, the threat of war | |
| from the seven sons of Fëanor, | (120) |
| from the far Falas, from Fingon still | |
| gathering his armies under hill | |
| and under tree in Hithlum's shade, | |
| these daily came. He grew afraid | |
| amidst his power once more; renoun | (125) |
| of Beren vexed his ears, and down | |
| the aisléd forests there was heard | |
| great Huan baying. | |
Then came word | |
| most passing strange of Lúthien | |
| wild-wandering by wood and glen, | (130) |
| and Thingol's purpose long he weighed, | |
| and wondered, thinking of that maid | |
| so fair, so frail. A captain dire, | |
| Boldog, he sent with sword and fire | |
| to Doriath's march; but battle fell | (135) |
| sudden upon him: news to tell | |
| never one returned of Boldog's host, | |
| and Thingol humbled Morgoth's boast. | |
| Then his heart with doubt and wrath was burned: | |
| new tidings of dismay he learned, | (140) |
| Sauron was o'erthrown, his strong isle | |
| broken and plundered, how with guile | |
| his foes now guile beset; and spies | |
| he feared, 'till each Orc to his eyes | |
| was half suspect. Still ever down | (145) |
| the aisléd forests came renown | |
| of Huan baying, hound of war | |
| the Valar unleashed in Valinor. | |
| Once had Morgoth Huan's fate bethought | |
| long-rumoured, and in dark he wrought. | (150) |
| Fierce hunger-haunted packs he had | |
| that in wolvish form and flesh were clad, | |
| but demon spirits dire did hold; | |
| and ever wild their voices rolled | |
| in cave and mountain where they housed | (155) |
| and endless snarling echoes roused. | |
| From these a whelp he chose and fed | |
| with his own hand on bodies dead, | |
| on fairest flesh of Elves and Men, | |
| 'till huge he grew and in his den | (160) |
| no more could creep, but by the chair | |
| of Morgoth's self would lie and glare, | |
| nor suffer Balrog, Orc, nor beast | |
| to touch him. Many a ghastly feast | |
| he held beneath that awful throne, | (165) |
| rending flesh and gnawing bone. | |
| There deep enchantment on him fell, | |
| the anguish and the power of hell; | |
| more great and terrible he became, | |
| with fire-red eyes and jaws aflame, | (170) |
| with breath like vapours of the grave, | |
| than any beast of wood or cave, | |
| than any beast of earth or hell | |
| that ever in any time befell, | |
| surpassing all his race and kin, | (175) |
| the ghastly tribe of Draugluin. | |
| Him Carcharoth, the Red Maw, name | |
| the songs of Elves. Not yet he came | |
| disastrous, ravening , from the gates | |
| of Angband. There he sleepless waits; | (180) |
| where those great portals threatening loom | |
| his red eyes smoulder in the gloom, | |
| his teeth are bare, his jaws are wide; | |
| and none may walk, nor creep, nor glide, | |
| nor thrust with power his menace past | (185) |
| to enter Morgoth's dungeon vast. | |
| Now, lo, before his watchful eyes | |
| a slinking shape he far descries | |
| that crawls into the frowning plain | |
| and halts at gaze, then on again | (190) |
| comes stalking near, a wolvish shape, | |
| haggard, wayworn, with jaws agape; | |
| and o'er it batlike in wide rings | |
| a reeling shadow slowly wings. | |
| Such shapes there oft were seen to roam, | (195) |
| this land their native haunt and home; | |
| and yet his mood with strange unease | |
| is filled, and boding thoughts him seize. | |
| 'What grievous terror, what dread guard | |
| hath Morgoth set to wait, and barred | (200) |
| his doors against all entering feet? | |
| Long ways we have come at last to meet | |
| the very maw of death that opes | |
| between us and our quest! Yet hopes | |
| we never had. No turning back!' | (205) |
| Thus Beren speaks, as in his track | |
| he halts and sees with werewolf eyes | |
| afar the horror that there lies. | |
| Then onward desperate he passed, | |
| skirting the black pits yawning vast, | (210) |
| where King Fingolgin ruinous fell | |
| alone before the gates of hell. | |
| Before those gates along they stood, | |
| while Carcharoth in doubtful mood | |
| glowered upon them, and snarling spoke, | (215) |
| and echoes in the arches woke: | |
| 'Hail, Draugluin, my kindred's lord! | |
| 'Tis very long since hitherward | |
| thou camest. Yea, 'tis passing strange | |
| to see thee now: a grievous change | (220) |
| is on thee, lord, who once so dire, | |
| so dauntless, and as fleet as fire, | |
| ran over wild and waste, but now | |
| with weariness must bend and bow! | |
| 'Tis hard to find the struggling breath | (225) |
| when Huan's teeth as sharp as death | |
| have rent the throat? What fortune rare | |
| brings thee back living here to fare - | |
| if Draugluin thou art? Come near! | |
| I would know more, and see thee clear.' | (230) |
| 'Who art thou, hungry upstart whelp, | |
| to bar my ways whom thou shouldst help? | |
| I fare with hasty tidings dour | |
| to Morgoth from my lord, Gorthaur. | |
| Aside, for I must in; or go | (235) |
| and swift my coming tell below!' | |
| Then up he doorward slowly stood, | |
| eyes shining grim with evil mood, | |
| uneasy growling: 'Draugluin, | |
| if such thou be, now enter in! | (240) |
| But what is this that crawls beside, | |
| slinking as if 'twould neath thee hide? | |
| Though wingéd creatures to and fro | |
| unnumbered pass here, all I know. | |
| I know not this. Stay, vampire, stay! | (245) |
| I like not thy kin nor thee. Come, say | |
| what sneaking errand thee doth bring, | |
| thou wingéd vermin, to the king! | |
| Small matter, I doubt not, if thou stay | |
| or enter, or if in my play | (250) |
| I crush thee like a fly on wall, | |
| or bite thy wings and let thee crawl.' | |
| Huge-stalking, noisome, close he came. | |
| In Beren's eyes there gleamed a flame; | |
| the hair upon his neck uprose. | (255) |
| Nought may the fragrance fair enclose, | |
| the odour or immortal flowers | |
| in everlasting spring neath showers | |
| that glitter silver in the grass | |
| in Valinor. Where'er did pass | (260) |
| Tinúviel, such air there went. | |
| From that foul devil-sharpened scent | |
| its sudden sweetness no disguise | |
| enchanted dark to cheat the eyes | |
| could keep, if near those nostrils drew | (265) |
| snuffling in doubt. This Beren knew: | |
| upon the brink of hell prepared | |
| for battle and death. There threatening stared | |
| those dreadful shapes, in hatred both, | |
| false Draugluin and Carcharoth, | (270) |
| when, lo, a marvel to behold: | |
| some power descended from of old, | |
| from race divine beyond the West | |
| sudden Tinúviel possessed | |
| like inner fire. The vampire dark | (275) |
| she flung aside, and, like a lark | |
| cleaving through night to dawn, she sprang, | |
| while sheer, heart-piercing silver rang | |
| her voice, as those long trumpets keen | |
| thrilling, unbearable, unseen | (280) |
| in the cold aisles of morn. Her cloak | |
| by skilled hands woven, like a smoke, | |
| like all-bewildering, all-enthralling, | |
| all-enfolding evening, falling | |
| from lifted arms, as forth she stepped, | (285) |
| across those awful eyes she swept, | |
| a shadow and a mist of dreams | |
| wherein entangled starlight gleams. | |
| 'Sleep, Oh unhappy, tortured thrall! | |
| Thou woebegotten, fail and fall | (290) |
| down, down from anguish, hatred, pain, | |
| from lust, from hunger, bond and chain, | |
| to that oblivion, dark and deep, | |
| the well, the lightless pit of sleep! | |
| For one brief hour escape the net, | (295) |
| the dreadful doom of life forget!' | |
| His eyes were quenched, his limbs were loosed; | |
| he fell like running steer that noosed | |
| and tripped goes crashing to the ground. | |
| Deathlike, moveless, without a sound | (300) |
| outstretched he lay, as lightning stroke | |
| had felled a huge o'ershadowing oak. |