The Hobbit - Far Over the Misty Mountains Cold (Complete Edition Cover) - Clamavi De Profundis
We are now on Patreon!https://www.patreon.com/clamavideprofundisiTunes Link: https://goo.gl/Ib3VNhAmazon Link: https://goo.gl/wPvYulGoogle Play Link: https://goo.gl/SU1NJASpotify Link: https://goo.gl/VPuVVTCheck out our new merchandise! https://goo.gl/552Hevhttps://www.twitter.com/ClamaviDeHere is our complete edition of J.R.R. Tolkien's "Far Over the Misty Mountains Cold!"Lyrics:Far over the misty mountains coldTo dungeons deep and caverns oldWe must away ere break of dayTo seek the pale enchanted gold.The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,While hammers fell like ringing bellsIn places deep, where dark things sleep,In hollow halls beneath the fells.For ancient king and elvish lordThere many a gleaming golden hoardThey shaped and wrought, and light they caughtTo hide in gems on hilt of sword.On silver necklaces they strungThe flowering stars, on crowns they hungThe dragon-fire, in twisted wireThey meshed the light of moon and sun.Far over the misty mountains coldTo dungeons deep and caverns oldWe must away, ere break of day,To claim our long-forgotten gold.Goblets they carved there for themselvesAnd harps of gold; where no man delvesThere lay they long, and many a songWas sung unheard by men or elves.The pines were roaring on the height,The winds were moaning in the night.The fire was red, it flaming spread;The trees like torches blazed with light.The bells were ringing in the daleAnd men they looked up with faces pale;The dragon's ire more fierce than fireLaid low their towers and houses frail.The mountain smoked beneath the moon;The dwarves they heard the tramp of doom.They fled their hall to dying fallBeneath his feet, beneath the moon.Song of Durin:The world was young, the mountains green,No stain yet on the Moon was seen,No words were laid on stream or stoneWhen 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 tombIn Moria, in Khazad-dûm.But still the sunken stars appearIn dark and windless Mirrormere;There lies his crown in water deep,Till Durin wakes again from sleep.Part 2:Far over the misty mountains grimTo dungeons deep and caverns dimWe 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 marshIts 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 flightOver 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 tallThe 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 bellsIn places deep, where dark things sleep,In hollow halls beneath the fells.On silver necklaces they strungThe light of stars, on crowns they hungThe dragon-fire, from twisted wireThe melody of harps they wrung.The mountain throne once more is freed!O! 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 hallUnder 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 dayFar over the wood and mountain tall.To Rivendell, where Elves yet dwellIn glades beneath the misty fell.Through moor and waste we ride in hasteAnd 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!