##title:Song of Durin
##author:Clamavi De Profundis
##_version:(v2)
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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 was fair, the mountains tall,
In Elder Days before the fall
Of mighty kings in Nargothrond
And Gondolin, who now beyond
The Western Seas have passed away:
the world was fair in Durin's Day.

A king he was on carven throne
In many-pillared halls of stone
With golden roof and silver floor,
And runes of power upon the door.
The light of sun and star and moon
In shining lamps of crystal hewn
Undimmed by cloud or shade of night
There shone for ever fair and bright.

There hammer on the anvil smote,
There chisel clove, and graver wrote;
There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;
The delver mined, the mason built.
There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,
And metal wrought like fishes' mail,
Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,
And shining spears were laid in hoard.

Unwearied then were Durin's folk;
Beneath the mountains music woke:
The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,
And at the gates the trumpets rang.
The world is gray, 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-d?m
But still the sunken stars appear
In dark and windless Mirrormere
There lies his crown in water deep
Till Durin wakes again from sleep