the song the dwarves sing in Bilbo’s hobbit hole the evening they arrive
Far over the misty mountains coldTo dungeons deep and caverns oldWe must away ere break of dayTo seek the pale enchanted gold.The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,While hammers fell like ringing bellsIn places deep, where dark things sleep,In hollow halls beneath the fells.For ancient king and elvish lordThere many a gleaming golden hoardThey shaped and wrought, and light they caughtTo hide in gems on hilt of sword.On silver necklaces they strungThe flowering stars, on crowns they hungThe dragon-fire, in twisted wireThey meshed the light of moon and sun.Far over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns oldWe must away, ere break of day,To claim our long-forgotten gold.
Goblets they carved there for themselvesAnd harps of gold; where no man delvesThere lay they long, and many a songWas 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 daleAnd men looked up with faces pale;Then dragon’s ire more fierce than fireLaid low their towers and houses frail.The mountain smoked beneath the moon;The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
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They fled their hall to dying fallBeneath his feet, beneath the moon.Far over misty mountains grimTo dungeons deep and caverns dimWe must away, ere break of day,To win our harps and gold from him!
the song the dwarves sing in Beorn’s hall
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 marshits whistling voices were released.The grasses hissed, their tassels bent,the reeds were rattling — on it wento’er shaken pool under heavens coolwhere racing clouds were torn and rent.It passed lonely Mountain bareand swept above the dragon’s lair:there black and dark lay boulders starkand flying smoke was in the air.
It left the world and took its flightover the wide seas of the night.The moon set sail upon the gale, and stars were fanned to leaping light.
the song the Men of the Lake sing
The King beneath the mountains,The King of carven stone,The lord of silver fountainsShall come into his own!His crown shall be upholden,His harp shall be restrung,His halls shall echo goldenTo songs of yore re-sung.The woods shall wave on mountainsAnd grass beneath the sun;His wealth shall flow in fountainsAnd the rivers golden run.The streams shall run in gladness,The lakes shall shine and burn,All sorrow fail and sadnessAt the Mountain-king’s return!
the song the dwarves sing under the mountain
Under the Mountain dark and tallThe 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 bellsIn places deep, where dark things sleep,In hollow halls beneath the fells.On silver necklaces they strungThe light of stars, on crowns they hungThe dragon-fire, from twisted wireThe 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 call we over mountains cold,”Come back unto caverns old!”Here at the Gates the king awaits,His hands are rich with gems and gold.The king is come unto his hallUnder the Mountain dark and tall.The Worm of Dread is slain and dead,And ever so our foes shall fall!
the song the elves sing as Bilbo returns home
The dragon is withered,His bones are now crumbled;His armour is shivered,His splendour is humbled!Though sword shall be rusted,And throne and crown perishWith strength that men trustedAnd wealth that they cherish,Here grass is still growing,And leaves are yet swinging,The white water flowing,And elves are yet singingCome! Tra-la-la-lally!Come back to the Valley!The stars are far brighterThan gems without measureThe moon is far whiterThan silver in treasure:The fire is more shiningOn hearth in the gloamingThan gold won by mining,So why go a-roaming?O! Tra-la-la-lallyCome back to the Valley.
O! Where are you going,So late in returning?The river is flowing.The stars are all burning!O! Whither so laden,So sad and so dreary?Here elf and elf-maidenNow welcome the wearyWith Tra-la-la-lallyCome back to the Valley,Tra-la-la-lallyFa-la-la-lallyFa-la!
another song the elves sing 😀
Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together!The wind’s in the tree-top, the wind’s in the heather;The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower,And bright are the windows of Night in her tower.Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together!Soft is the grass, and let foot be like feather!The river is silver, the shadows are fleeting;Merry is May-time, and merry our meeting.Sing we now softly, and dreams let us weave him!Wind him in slumber and there let us leave him!The wanderer sleepeth. Now soft be his pillow!Lullaby! Lullaby! Alder and Willow!Sigh no more Pine, till the wind of the morn!Fall Moon! Dark be the land!Hush! Hush! Oak, Ash and Thorn!Hushed be all water, till dawn is at hand!
the poem that Bilbo makes up when he returns to the Shire
Roads go ever ever on,Over rock and under tree,By caves where never sun has shone,By streams that never find the sea;Over snow by winter sown,And through the merry flowers of June,Over grass and over stone,And under mountains in the moon.Roads go ever ever onUnder cloud and under star,Yet feet that wandering have goneTurn at last to home afar.Eyes that fire and sword have seenAnd horror in the halls of stoneLook at last on meadows greenAnd trees and hills they long have known.