between us and our quest! Yet hopes
1505we never had. No turning back!’
Thus Beren speaks, as in his track
he halts and sees with werewolf eyes
afar the horror that there lies.
Then onward desperate he passed,
1510skirting the black pits yawning vast,
where King Fingolfin ruinous fell
alone before the gates of hell.
Before those gates alone they stood,
while Carcharoth in doubtful mood
1515glowered upon them, and snarling spoke,
and echoes in the arches woke:
‘Hail! Draugluin, my kindred’s lord!
’Tis very long since hitherward
thou camest. Yea, ’tis passing strange
1520to see thee now: a grievous change
is on thee, lord, who once so dire
so dauntless, and as fleet as fire,
ran over wild and waste, but now
with weariness must bend and bow!
1525’Tis hard to find the struggling breath
when Huan’s teeth as sharp as death
have rent the throat? What fortune rare
brings thee back living here to fare—
if Draugluin thou art? come near!
1530I would know more, and see thee clear!’
‘Who art thou, hungry upstart whelp,
to bar my ways whom thou shouldst help?
I fare with hasty tidings new
to Morgoth from forest-haunting Thû.
1535Aside! for I must in; or go
and swift my coming tell below!’
Then up that doorward slowly stood,
eyes shining grim with evil mood,
uneasy growling: ‘Draugluin,
1540if such thou be, now enter in!
But what is this that crawls beside
slinking as if ’twould neath thee hide?
Though wingéd creatures to and fro
unnumbered pass here, all I know.
1545I know not this. Stay, vampire, stay!
I like not thy kin nor thee. Come, say
what sneaking errand thee doth bring,
thou wingéd vermin, to the king!
Small matter, I doubt not, if thou stay
1550or enter, or if in my play
I crush thee like a fly on wall,
or bite thy wings and let thee crawl.’
Huge-stalking, noisome, close he came.
In Beren’s eyes there gleamed a flame;
1555the hair upon his neck uprose.
Nought may the fragrance fair enclose,
the odour of immortal flowers
in everlasting spring neath showers
that glitter silver in the grass
1560in Valinor. Where’er did pass
Tinúviel, such air there went.
From that foul devil-sharpened scent
its sudden sweetness no disguise
enchanted dark to cheat the eyes
1565could keep, if near those nostrils drew
snuffling in doubt. This Beren knew
upon the brink of hell prepared
for battle and death. There threatening stared
those dreadful shapes, in hatred both,
1570false Draugluin and Carcharoth
when, lo! a marvel to behold:
some power, descended from of old,
from race divine beyond the West,
sudden Tinúviel possessed
1575like inner fire. The vampire dark
she flung aside, and like a lark
cleaving through night to dawn she sprang,
while sheer, heart-piercing silver, rang
her voice, as those long trumpets keen
1580thrilling, unbearable, unseen
in the cold aisles of morn. Her cloak
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 hel
l 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 Thû’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 Thû 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
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.
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.