Beren and Lúthien

by white hands woven, like a smoke,

like all-bewildering, all-enthralling, all-enfolding evening, falling

1585from lifted arms, as forth she stepped across those awful eyes she swept,

a shadow and a mist of dreams

whereon entangled starlight gleams.

‘Sleep, O unhappy, tortured thrall!

1590Thou woebegotten, fail and fall 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!

1595For one brief hour escape the net, the dreadful doom of life forget!’

His eyes were quenched, his limbs were loosed; he fell like running steer that noosed and tripped grows crashing to the ground.

1600Deathlike, moveless, without a sound outstretched he lay, as lightning stroke had felled a huge o’ershadowing oak.

******

Into the vast and echoing gloom,

more dread than many-tunnelled tomb

1605in labyrinthine pyramid where everlasting death is hid

down awful corridors that wind

down to a menace dark enshrined; down to the mountain’s roots profound, 1610devoured, tormented, bored and ground by seething vermin spawned of stone;

down to the depths they went alone.

The arch behind of twilit shade

they saw recede and dwindling fade;

1615the thunderous forges’ rumour grew, a burning wind there roaring blew

foul vapours up from gaping holes.

Huge shapes there stood like carven trolls enormous hewn of blasted rock

1620to forms that mortal likeness mock; monstrous and menacing, entombed,

at every turn they silent loomed

in fitful glares that leaped and died.

There hammers clanged, and tongues there cried 1625with sound like smitten stone; there wailed faint from far under, called and failed amid the iron clink of chain

voices of captives put to pain.

Loud rose a din of laughter hoarse,

1630self-loathing yet without remorse; loud came a singing harsh and fierce

like swords of terror souls to pierce.

Red was the glare through open doors

of firelight mirrored on brazen floors, 1635and up the arches towering clomb to glooms unguessed, to vaulted dome swathed in wavering smokes and steams

stabbed with flickering lightning-gleams.

To Morgoth’s hall, where dreadful feast 1640he held, and drank the blood of beast and lives of Men, they stumbling came: their eyes were dazed with smoke and flame.

The pillars, reared like monstrous shores to bear earth’s overwhelming floors,

1645were devil-carven, shaped with skill such as unholy dreams doth fill:

they towered like trees into the air,

whose trunks are rooted in despair,

whose shade is death, whose fruit is bane, 1650whose boughs like serpents writhe in pain.

Beneath them ranged with spear and sword

stood Morgoth’s sable-armoured horde:

the fire on blade and boss of shield

was red as blood on stricken field.

1655Beneath a monstrous column loomed the throne of Morgoth, and the doomed

and dying gasped upon the floor:

his hideous footstool, rape of war.

About him sat his awful thanes,

1660the Balrog-lords with fiery manes, redhanded, mouthed with fangs of steel; devouring wolves were crouched at heel.

And o’er the host of hell there shone

with a cold radiance, clear and wan,

1665the Silmarils, the gems of fate, emprisoned in the crown of hate.

Lo! through the grinning portals dread

sudden a shadow swooped and fled;

and Beren gasped—he lay alone,

1670with crawling belly on the stone: a form bat-wingéd, silent, flew

where the huge pillared branches grew, amid the smokes and mounting steams.

And as on the margin of dark dreams

1675a dim-felt shadow unseen grows to cloud of vast unease, and woes

foreboded, nameless, roll like doom

upon the soul, so in that gloom

the voices fell, and laughter died

1680slow to silence many-eyed.

A nameless doubt, a shapeless fear,

had entered in their caverns drear

and grew, and towered above them cowed, hearing in heart the trumpets loud

1685of gods forgotten. Morgoth spoke, and thunderous the silence broke:

‘Shadow, descend! And do not think

to cheat mine eyes! In vain to shrink

from thy Lord’s gaze, or seek to hide.

1690My will by none may be defied.

Hope nor escape doth here await

those that unbidden pass my gate.

Descend! ere anger blast thy wing, thou foolish, frail, bat-shapen thing, 1695and yet not bat within! Come down!’

Slow-wheeling o’er his iron crown,

reluctantly, shivering and small,

Beren there saw the shadow fall,

and droop before the hideous throne,

1700a weak and trembling thing, alone.

And as thereon great Morgoth bent

his darkling gaze, he shuddering went, belly to earth, the cold sweat dank

upon his fell, and crawling shrank

1705beneath the darkness of that seat, beneath the shadow of those feet.

Tinúviel spake, a shrill, thin, sound

piercing those silences profound:

‘A lawful errand here me brought;

1710from Th?’s dark mansions have I sought, from Taur-na-Fuin’s shade I fare

to stand before thy mighty chair!’

‘Thy name, thou shrieking waif, thy name!

Tidings enough from Th? there came

1715but short while since. What would he now?

Why send such messenger as thou?’

‘Thuringwethil I am, who cast

a shadow o’er the face aghast

of the sallow moon in the doomed land

1720of shivering Beleriand!’

‘Liar art thou, who shalt not weave

deceit before mine eyes. Now leave

thy form and raiment false, and stand

revealed, and delivered to my hand!’

1725There came a slow and shuddering change: the batlike raiment dark and strange

was loosed, and slowly shrank and fell quivering. She stood revealed in hell.

About her slender shoulders hung

1730her shadowy hair, and round her clung her garment dark, where glimmered pale the starlight caught in magic veil.

Dim dreams and faint oblivious sleep

fell softly thence, in dungeons deep

1735an odour stole of elven-flowers from elven-dells where silver showers

drip softly through the evening air;

and round there crawled with greedy stare dark shapes of snuffling hunger dread.

1740With arms upraised and drooping head then softly she began to sing

a theme of sleep and slumbering,

wandering, woven with deeper spell

than songs wherewith in ancient dell

1745Melian did once the twilight fill, profound and fathomless, and still.

The fires of Angband flared and died,

smouldered into darkness; through the wide and hollow halls there rolled unfurled 1750the shadows of the underworld.

All movement stayed, and all sound ceased, save vaporous breath of Orc and beast.

One fire in darkness still abode:

the lidless eyes of Morgoth glowed;

1755one sound the breathing silence broke: the mirthless voice of Morgoth spoke.

‘So Lúthien, so Lúthien,

a liar like all Elves and Men!

Yet welcome, welcome, to my hall!

1760I have a use for every thrall.

What news of Thingol in his hole

shy lurking like a timid vole?

What folly fresh is in his mind