| Up through the dark and echoing gloom | |
| as ghosts from many-tunnelled tomb, | |
| up from the mountains' roots profound | |
| and the vast menace underground, | |
| their limbs aquake with deadly fear, | (5) |
| terror in eyes, and dread in ear, | |
| together fled they, by the beat | |
| affrighted of their flying feet. | |
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| At last before them far away | |
| they saw a glimmer, faint and grey, | (10) |
| of ghostly light that shivering fell | |
| down from the yawning gates of Hell. | |
| Then hope awoke, and strightway died - | |
| the doors were open, gates were wide; | |
| but on the threshold terror walked. | (15) |
| The wolf awake there watchful stalked | |
| and in his eyes the red fire glowered; | |
| there Carcharoth in menace towered, | |
| a waiting death, a biding doom: | |
| his jaws were gaping like a tomb, | (20) |
| his teeth were bare, his tongue aflame; | |
| aroused he watched that no one came, | |
| no flitting shade nor hunted shape, | |
| seeking from Angband to escape. | |
| Now past that guard what guile or might | (25) |
| could thrust from death into the light? | |
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| He heard afar their hurrying feet, | |
| he snuffed an odour strange and sweet; | |
| he smelled their coming long before | |
| they marked the waiting threat at door. | (30) |
| His limbs he stretched and shook off sleep, | |
| then stood at gaze. With sudden leap | |
| upon them as they sped he sprang, | |
| and his howling in the arches rang. | |
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| Too swift for thought his onset came, | (35) |
| too swift for any spell to tame; | |
| and Beren in despair then strode | |
| past Lúthien to bar the road, | |
| unarmed, defenceless, to defend | |
| the elven-maid until the end. | (40) |
| He held aloft the Silmaril | |
| and Carcharoth, one moment still | |
| was halted, daunted and afraid - | |
| one moment only was he stayed: | |
| the right hand thrust before his eyes | (45) |
| he took in sudden swift surprise – | |
| the right, from which the radiance welled | |
| of the holy Silmaril it held. | |
| As gleam of swords in fire there flashed | |
| the fangs of Carcharoth, and crashed | (50) |
| together like a trap, that tore | |
| the hand about the wrist, and shore | |
| through brittle bone and sinew nesh, | |
| devouring the frail mortal flesh; | |
| and in that cruel mouth unclean | (55) |
| engulfed the jewel's holy sheen. | |
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| Against the wall then Beren reeled | |
| but still with his left he sought to shield | |
| fair Lúthien, who cried aloud | |
| to see his pain, and down she bowed | (60) |
| in anguish sinking to the ground. | |