The Fall of Gondolin

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far better were these for bold footsteps

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than gardens of the Gods gloom-encircled

with idleness filled and empty days.

Yea! though the light lit them and the loveliness

beyond heart’s desire that hath held us slaves

here long and long. But that light is dead.

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Our gems are gone, our jewels ravished;

and the Three, my Three, thrice-enchanted

globes of crystal by gleam undying

illumined, lit by living splendour

and all hues’ essence, their eager flame –

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Morgoth has them in his monstrous hold,

my Silmarils. I swear here oaths

unbreakable bonds to bind me ever,

by Timbrenting and the timeless halls

of Bredhil the Blessed that abides thereon –

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may she hear and heed – to hunt endlessly

unwearying unwavering through world and sea,

through leaguered lands, lonely mountains,

over fens and forest and the fearful snows,

till I find those fair ones, where the fate is hid

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of the folk of Elfland and their fortune locked,

where alone now lies the light divine.’

Then his sons beside him, the seven kinsmen,

crafty Curufin, Celegorm the fair,

Damrod and Díriel and dark Cranthir,

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Maglor the mighty, and Maidros tall

(the eldest, whose ardour yet more eager burnt

than his father’s flame, than Fëanor’s wrath;

him fate awaited with fell purpose),

these leapt with laughter their lord beside,

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with linkéd hands there lightly took

the oath unbreakable; blood thereafter

it spilled like a sea and spent the swords

of endless armies, nor hath ended yet.

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