to trust not, thinking it well to save
1120from love thy loved, who welcomes grave
and torment sooner than in guard
of kind intent to languish, barred,
wingless and helpless him to aid
for whose support her love was made!’
1125Thus back to him came Lúthien:
they met beyond the ways of Men;
upon the brink of terror stood
between the desert and the wood.
He looked on her, her lifted face
1130beneath his lips in sweet embrace:
‘Thrice now mine oath I curse,’ he said,
‘that under shadow thee hath led!
But where is Huan, where the hound
to whom I trusted, whom I bound
1135by love of thee to keep thee well
from deadly wandering into hell?’
‘I know not! But good Huan’s heart
is wiser, kinder, than thou art,
grim lord, more open unto prayer!
1140Yet long and long I pleaded there,
until he brought me, as I would,
upon thy trail—a palfrey good
would Huan make, of flowing pace:
thou wouldst have laughed to see us race,
1145as Orc on werewolf ride like fire
night after night through fen and mire,
through waste and wood! But when I heard
thy singing clear—(yea, every word
of Lúthien one rashly cried,
1150and listening evil fierce defied) –,
he set me down, and sped away;
but what he would I cannot say.’
Ere long they knew, for Huan came,
his great breath panting, eyes like flame,
1155in fear lest her whom he forsook
to aid some hunting evil took
ere he was nigh. Now there he laid
before their feet, as dark as shade,
two grisly shapes that he had won
1160from that tall isle in Sirion:
a wolfhame huge—its savage fell
was long and matted, dark the spell
that drenched the dreadful coat and skin;
the werewolf cloak of Draugluin;
1165the other was a batlike garb
with mighty fingered wings, a barb
like iron nail at each joint’s end—
such wings as their dark cloud extend
against the moon, when in the sky
1170from Deadly Nightshade screeching fly
Thû’s messengers.
‘What hast thou brought,
good Huan? What thy hidden thought?
Of trophy of prowess and strong deed,
when Thû thou vanquishedst, what need
1175here in the waste?’ Thus Beren spoke,
and once more words in Huan woke:
his voice was like the deeptoned bells
that ring in Valmar’s citadels:
‘Of one fair gem thou must be thief,
1180Morgoth’s or Thingol’s, loath or lief;
thou must here choose twixt love and oath!
If vow to break is still thee loath,
then Lúthien must either die
alone, or death with thee defie
1185beside thee, marching on your fate
that hidden before you lies in wait.
Hopeless the quest, but not yet mad,
unless thou, Beren, run thus clad
in mortal raiment, mortal hue,
1190witless and redeless, death to woo.
‘Lo! good was Felagund’s device,
but may be bettered, if advice
of Huan ye will dare to take,
and swift a hideous change will make
1195to forms most curséd, foul and vile,
of werewolf of the Wizard’s Isle,
of monstrous bat’s envermined fell
with ghostly clawlike wings of hell.
‘To such dark straits, alas! now brought
1200are ye I love, for whom I fought.
Nor further with you can I go—
whoever did a great hound know
in friendship at a werewolf’s side
to Angband’s grinning portals stride?
1205Yet my heart tells that at the gate
what there ye find, ’twill be my fate
myself to see, though to that door
my feet shall bear me nevermore.
Darkened is hope and dimmed my eyes,
1210I see not clear what further lies;
yet maybe backwards leads your path
beyond all hope to Doriath,
and thither, perchance, we three shall wend,
and meet again before the end.’
1215They stood and marvelled thus to hear
then sudden he vanished from their sight
even at the onset of the night.
His dreadful counsel then they took,
1220and their own gracious forms forsook;
in werewolf fell and batlike wing
prepared to robe them, shuddering.
With elvish magic Lúthien wrought,
lest raiment foul with evil fraught
1225to dreadful madness drive their hearts;
and there she wrought with elvish arts
a strong defence, a binding power,
singing until the midnight hour.
Swift as the wolvish coat he wore,
1230Beren lay slavering on the floor,
redtongued and hungry; but there lies
a pain and longing in his eyes,
a look of horror as he sees
a batlike form crawl to its knees
1235and drag its creased and creaking wings.
Then howling under moon he springs
fourfooted, swift, from stone to stone
from hill to plain—but not alone:
a dark shape down the slope doth skim,
1240and wheeling flitters over him.
Ashes and dust and thirsty dune
withered and dry beneath the moon,
under the cold and shifting air
sifting and sighing, bleak and bare;
1245of blistered stones and gasping sand,
of splintered bones was built that land,
o’er which now slinks with powdered fell
and hanging tongue a shape of hell.
Many parching leagues lay still before
1250when sickly day crept back once more;
many choking miles lay stretched ahead
when shivering night once more was spread
with doubtful shadow and ghostly sound
that hissed and passed o’er dune and mound.
1255A second morning in cloud and reek
struggled, when stumbling, blind and weak,
a wolvish shape came staggering forth
and reached the foothills of the North;
upon its back there folded lay
1260a crumpled thing that blinked at day.
The rocks were reared like bony teeth,
and claws that grasped from opened sheath,
on either side the mournful road
that onward led to that abode
1265far up within the Mountain dark
with tunnels drear and portals stark.
They crept within a scowling shade
and cowering darkly down them laid.
Long lurked they there beside the path,
1270and shivered, dreaming of Doriath,
of laughter and music and clean air,
in fluttered leaves birds singing fair.
They woke, and felt the trembling sound,
the beating echo far underground
1275shake beneath them, the rumour vast
of Morgoth’s forges; and aghast
they heard the stamp of stony feet
that shod with iron went down that street:
the Orcs wen
t forth to rape and war,
1280and Balrog captains marched before.
stirred, and under cloud and shade
at eve stepped forth, and no more stayed;
as dark things on dark errand bent
up the long slopes in haste they went.
1285Ever the sheer cliffs rose beside,
where birds of carrion sat and cried;
and chasms black and smoking yawned,
whence writhing serpent-shapes were spawned;
until at last in that huge gloom,
1290heavy as overhanging doom,
that weighs on Thangorodrim’s foot
like thunder at the mountain’s root,
they came, as to a sombre court
walled with great towers, fort on fort
1295of cliffs embattled, to that last plain
that opens, abysmal and inane
before he final topless wall
of Bauglir’s immeasurable hall,
whereunder looming awful waits
1300the gigantic shadow of his gates.
******
In that vast shadow once of yore
Fingolfin stood: his shield he bore
with field of heaven’s blue and star
of crystal shining pale afar.
1305In overmastering wrath and hate
desperate he smote upon that gate,
the Gnomish king, there standing lone,
while endless fortresses of stone
engulfed the thin clear ringing keen
1310of silver horn on baldric green.
His hopeless challenge dauntless cried
dark king, your ghastly brazen doors!
Come forth, whom earth and heaven abhors!
1315Come forth, O monstrous craven lord
and fight with thine own hand and sword,
thou wielder of hosts of banded thralls,
thou tyrant leaguered with strong walls,
thou foe of Gods and elvish race!
1320I wait thee here. Come! Show thy face!’
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
1325of rumbling earthquake underground.
Black-armoured, towering, iron-crowned
he issued forth; his mighty shield
a vast unblazoned sable field
with shadow like a thundercloud;
1330and o’er the gleaming king it bowed,
as huge aloft like mace he hurled
that hammer of the underworld,
Grond. Clanging to ground it tumbled
down like a thunder-bolt, and crumbled
1335the rocks beneath it; smoke up-started,
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
1340like ice that gleameth cold and blue,
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
1345rang in the mountains, and the earth quook,
and Angband’s trembling armies shook.
Yet Orcs would after laughing tell
of the duel at the gates of hell;
though elvish song thereof was made
1350ere this but one—when sad was laid
the mighty king in barrow high,
and Thorondor, Eagle of the sky,
the dreadful tidings brought and told
to mourning Elfinesse of old.
1355Thrice was Fingolfin with great blows
to his knees beaten, thrice he rose
still leaping up beneath the cloud
aloft to hold star-shining, proud,
his stricken shield, his sundered helm,
1360that dark nor might could overwhelm
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
1365a foot like rooted hills was set,
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
1370gushed as from smoking fount in flood.
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
1375that Manwë bade him build on high,
on peak unscaled beneath the sky,
Morgoth to watch, now down there swooped
Thorondor the King of Eagles, stooped,
and rending beak of gold he smote
1380in Bauglir’s face, then up did float
on pinions thirty fathoms wide
bearing away, though loud they cried,
the mighty corse, the Elven-king;
and where the mountains make a ring
1385far to the south about that plain
where after Gondolin did reign,
embattled city, at great height
upon a dizzy snowcap white
in mounded cairn the mighty dead
1390he laid upon the mountain’s head.
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.
1395Thus Bauglir earned the furrowed scar
that his dark countenance doth mar,
and thus his limping gait he gained;
but afterward profound he reigned
darkling upon his hidden throne;
1400and thunderous paced his halls of stone,
slow building there his vast design
the world in thraldom to confine.
Wielder of armies, lord of woe,
no rest now gave he slave or foe;
1405his watch and ward he thrice increased,
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;
1410if maid were fair or proud were lord;
well nigh all things he knew, all hearts
well nigh enmeshed in evil arts.
Doriath only, beyond the veil
woven by Melian, no assail
1415could hurt or enter; only rumour dim
of things there passing came to him.
A rumour loud and tidings clear
of other movements far and near
among his foes, and threat of war
1420from the seven sons of Fëanor,
from Nargothrond, from Fingon still
gathering his armies under hill
and under tree in Hithlum’s shade,
these daily came. He grew afraid
1425amidst his power once more; renown
of Beren vexed his ears, and down
the aisléd forests there was heard
great Huan baying.
Then came word
most passing strange of Lúthien
1430wild-wandering by wood and glen,
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
1435to Doriath’s march; but battle fell
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:
1440new tid
ings of dismay he learned,
how Thû was o’erthrown and his strong isle
broken and plundered, how with guile
his foes now guile beset; and spies
he feared, till each Orc to his eyes
1445was half suspect. Still ever down
the aisléd forests came renown
of Huan baying, hound of war
that Gods unleashed in Valinor.
Then Morgoth of Huan’s fate bethought
1450long-rumoured, and in dark he wrought.
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
1455in cave and mountain where they housed
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,
1460till huge he grew and in his den
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
1465he held beneath that awful throne
rending flesh and gnawing bone.
There deep enchantment on him fell,
the anguish and the power of hell;
more great and terrible he became
1470with fire-red eyes and jaws aflame,
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,
1475surpassing all his race and kin,
the ghastly tribe of Draugluin.
Him Carcharoth, the Red Maw, name
the songs of Elves. Not yet he came
disastrous, ravening, from the gates
1480of Angband. There he sleepless waits;
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,
1485nor thrust with power his menace past
to enter Morgoth’s dungeon vast.
Now, lo! before his watchful eyes
a slinking shape he far descries
that crawls into the frowning plain
1490and halts at gaze, then on again
comes stalking near, a wolvish shape
haggard, wayworn, with jaws agape;
and o’er it batlike in wide rings
a reeling shadow slowly wings.
1495Such shapes there oft were seen to roam,
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
1500hath Morgoth set to wait, and barred
his doors against all entering feet?
Long ways we have come at last to meet
the very maw of death that opes