| From ashes and fire be broken
|
| A light from the shadows shall spring
|
| Renewed shall be blade that was broken
|
| The crownless shall again be king
|
| The world is grey, the mountains old
|
| The forge’s fire is ashen and cold
|
| No harp is wrung, no hammer falls
|
| The darkness dwells in Druin’s halls
|
| The shadow lies upon his tomb
|
| But still the sunken stars appeal
|
| In the dark and windless Mirrormere
|
| There lies his crown in water deep
|
| 'Til Druin wakes again from sleep
|
| A deadly sword, a healing hand
|
| A trumpet — voice, a burning hand
|
| A lord of Wisdom…
|
| Fire and shadow — both defied
|
| In Khazad-Dum his wisdom died
|
| In joy thou hast lived
|
| If thou hearest the cryof the Gull on the shore
|
| Thy soul shall then restin the forest no more… |