The Song of the Smith
He chanted a song in stone halls deep
Of a race awoken from a shadowed sleep,
Of ashes kindled, a dawn begun,
In ages long past ere the birth of the sun.
He chanted a song in his forge alone,
Of grimness, endurance and strength of stone,
Of courage and loyalty, never wavering,
Of bitter hatred, vengance unquavering,
Of evils remembered and jealous pride,
Of honour defended, darkness defied,
Of strength to withstand, never betraying,
The joy of the father, eternal, staying,
Of delight in his craft and things of worth,
Thus he fashioned his children of the earth.
His hammer in hallowed places ringing,
The darkness swelled with melodies singing,
Of light all conquering, righting of wrong,
The forge rang loud with the craftsman's song.
There agelong in the dark he wrought,
The seven fathers, and to them taught
All his knowledge of a maker's tools,
Of love of beauty, of myriad jewels,
Things of steel, iron and gold,
Of the earth's dark wonders the maker told.
Then coming, Eru upbraided him,
For presumptious nature and foolish whim,
The seven he scattered, sundered far
In distant lands where the shadows are.
There must they lie in stone halls deep,
To await their time in a shadowed sleep.