Paroles de 'Far Over The Misty Mountains Cold' par Clamavi De Profundis

Far over the Misty Mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day
To seek our pale enchanted gold

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep
In hollow halls beneath the fells

For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sword

On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, in twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun

Far over the Misty Mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day
To claim our long-forgotten gold

Goblets they carved there for themselves
And harps of gold, where no man delves
There lay they long, and many a song
Was sung unheard by men or elves

The pines were roaring on the heights
The wind was moaning in the night
The fire was red, it flaming spread
The trees like torches blazed with light

The bells were ringing in the dale
And men looked up with faces pale
The dragon's ire, more fierce than fire
Laid low their towers and houses frail

The mountain smoked beneath the moon
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom (the tramp of doom)
They fled the hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon

The world was young, the mountains green
No stain yet on the moon was seen
No words were laid on stream or stone
When Durin woke and walked alone

He named the nameless hills and dells
He drank from yet untasted wells
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere
And saw a crown of stars appear

As gems upon a silver thread
Above the shadows of his head

The world is grey, the mountains old
The forge's fire is ashen-cold
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls
The darkness dwells in Durin's halls

The shadow lies upon his tomb
In Moria, in Khazad-dûm
But still the sunken stars appear
In dark and windless Mirrormere

There lies his crown in water deep
Till Durin wakes again from sleep

Far over the Misty Mountains grim
To dungeons deep and caverns dim
We must away, ere break of day
To win our harps and gold from him!

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 marsh
Its whistling voices were released

The grasses hissed, their tassels bent
The reeds were rattling, on it went
O'er shaken pool under heavens cool
Where racing clouds were torn and rent

It passed the Lonely Mountain bare
And swept above the dragon's lair
There black and dark lay boulders stark
And flying smoke was in the air

It left the world and took its flight
Over the wide seas of the night
The moon set sail upon the gale
And stars were fanned to leaping light

Under the Mountain dark and tall
The 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 bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep
In hollow halls beneath the fells

On silver necklaces they strung
The light of stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, from twisted wire
The melody of harps they wrung

The mountain throne once more is freed!
Oh, Wandering folk, the summons heed!
Come haste! Come haste! Across the waste!
The king of friend and kin has need

Now we call over the mountains cold
'Come back unto the caverns old!'
Here at the Gates the king awaits
His hands are rich with gems and gold

The king has come unto his hall
Under the Mountain dark and tall
The Worm of Dread is slain and dead
And ever so our foes shall fall!

Farewell we call to hearth and hall
Though wind may blow and rain may fall
We must away, ere break of day
Far over the wood and mountain tall

To Rivendell, where Elves yet dwell
In glades beneath the misty fell
Through moor and waste we ride in haste
And whither then we cannot tell

With foes ahead, behind us dread
Beneath the sky shall be our bed
Until at last our toil be passed
Our journey done, our errand sped

We must away! We must away!
We ride before the break of day