who cannot keep his offspring blind
1765from straying thus? or can devise no better counsel for his spies?’
She wavered, and she stayed her song.
‘The road,’ she said, ‘was wild and long, but Thingol sent me not, nor knows
1770what way his rebellious daughter goes.
Yet every road and path will lead
Northward at last, and here of need
I trembling come with humble brow,
and here before thy throne I bow;
1775for Lúthien hath many arts for solace sweet of kingly hearts.’
‘And here of need thou shalt remain
now, Lúthien, in joy or pain—
or pain, the fitting doom for all,
1780for rebel, thief, and upstart thrall.
Why should ye not in our fate share
of woe and travail? Or should I spare
to slender limb and body frail
breaking torment? Of what avail
1785here dost thou deem thy babbling song and foolish laughter? Minstrels strong are at my call. Yet I will give
a respite brief, a while to live,
a little while, though purchased dear, 1790to Lúthien the fair and clear, a pretty toy for idle hour.
In slothful gardens many a flower
like thee the amorous gods are used
honey-sweet to kiss, and cast then bruised 1795their fragrance loosing, under feet.
But here we seldom find such sweet
amid our labours long and hard,
from godlike idleness debarred.
And who would not taste the honey-sweet 1800lying to lips, or crush with feet the soft cool tissue of pale flowers,
easing like gods the dragging hours?
A! curse the Gods! O hunger dire,
O blinding thirst’s unending fire!
1805One moment shall ye cease, and slake your sting with morsel I here take!’
In his eyes the fire to flame was fanned,
and forth he stretched his brazen hand.
Lúthien as shadow shrank aside.
1810‘Not thus, O king! Not thus!’ she cried, ‘do great lords hark to humble boon!
For every minstrel hath his tune;
and some are strong and some are soft
and each would bear his song aloft,
1815and each a little while be heard, though rude the note, and light the word.
But Lúthien hath cunning arts
for solace sweet of kingly hearts.
Now hearken!’ And her wings she caught 1820then deftly up, and swift as thought slipped from his grasp, and wheeling round, fluttering before his eyes, she wound
a mazy-wingéd dance, and sped
about his iron-crownéd head.
1825Suddenly her song began anew; and soft came dropping like a dew down from on high in that domed hall
her voice bewildering, magical,
and grew to silver-murmuring streams
1830pale falling in dark pools in dreams.
She let her flying raiment sweep,
enmeshed with woven spells of sleep,
as round the dark void she ranged and reeled.
From wall to wall she turned and wheeled 1835in dance such as never Elf nor fay before devised, nor since that day;
than swallow swifter, than flittermouse in dying light round darkened house
more silken-soft, more strange and fair 1840than sylphine maidens of the Air whose wings in Varda’s heavenly hall
in rhythmic movement beat and fall.
Down crumpled Orc, and Balrog proud;
all eyes were quenched, all heads were bowed; 1845the fires of heart and maw were stilled, and ever like a bird she thrilled
above a lightless world forlorn
in ecstasy enchanted borne.
All eyes were quenched, save those that glared 1850in Morgoth’s lowering brows, and stared in slowly wandering wonder round,
and slow were in enchantment bound.
Their will wavered, and their fire failed, and as beneath his brows they paled,
1855the Silmarils like stars were kindled that in the reek of Earth had dwindled escaping upwards clear to shine,
glistening marvellous in heaven’s mine.
Then flaring suddenly they fell,
1860down, down upon the floors of hell.
The dark and mighty head was bowed;
like mountain-top beneath a cloud
the shoulders foundered, the vast form crashed, as in overwhelming storm
1865huge cliffs in ruin slide and fall; and prone lay Morgoth in his hall.
His crown there rolled upon the ground, a wheel of thunder; then all sound
died, and a silence grew as deep
1870as were the heart of Earth asleep.
Beneath the vast and empty throne
the adders lay like twisted stone,
the wolves like corpses foul were strewn; and there lay Beren deep in swoon:
1875no thought, no dream nor shadow blind moved in the darkness of his mind.
‘Come forth, come forth! The hour hath knelled, and Angband’s mighty lord is felled!
Awake, awake! For we two meet
1880alone before the awful seat.’
This voice came down into the deep
where he lay drowned in wells of sleep; a hand flower-soft and flower-cool
passed o’er his face, and the still pool 1885of slumber quivered. Up then leaped his mind to waking; forth he crept.
The wolvish fell he flung aside
and sprang unto his feet, and wide
staring amid the soundless gloom
1890he gasped as one living shut in tomb.
There to his side he felt her shrink,
felt Lúthien now shivering sink,
her strength and magic dimmed and spent, and swift his arms about her went.
1895Before his feet he saw amazed the gems of F?anor, that blazed
with white fire glistening in the crown of Morgoth’s might now fallen down.
To move that helm of iron vast
1900no strength he found, and thence aghast he strove with fingers mad to wrest
the guerdon of their hopeless quest,
till in his heart there fell the thought of that cold morn whereon he fought
1905with Curufin; then from his belt the sheathless knife he drew, and knelt, and tried its hard edge, bitter-cold,
o’er which in Nogrod songs had rolled
of dwarvish armourers singing slow
1910to hammer-music long ago.
Iron as tender wood it clove
and mail as woof of loom it rove.
The claws of iron that held the gem,
it bit them through and sundered them; 1915a Silmaril he clasped and held, and the pure radiance slowly welled
red glowing through the clenching flesh.
Again he stooped and strove afresh
one more of the holy jewels three
1920that F?anor wrought of yore to free.
But round those fires was woven fate;
not yet should they leave the halls of hate.
The dwarvish steel of cunning blade
by treacherous smiths of Nogrod made
1925snapped; then ringing sharp and clear in twain it sprang, and like a spear
or errant shaft the brow it grazed
of Morgoth’s sleeping head, and dazed
their hearts with fear. For Morgoth groaned 1930with voice entombed, like wind that moaned in hollow caverns penned and bound.
There came a breath; a gasping sound
moved through the halls, as Orc and beast turned in their dreams of hideous feast; 1935in sleep uneasy Balrogs stirred, and far above was faintly heard
an echo that in tunnels rolled,
a wolvish howling long and cold.
******
Up through the dark and echoing gloom
1940as ghosts from many-tunnelled tomb, up from the mountains’ roots profound
and the vast menace underground,
their limbs aquake with deadly fear,
terror in eyes, and dread in ear,