THE PRELUDE
The fall that left unnumber’d heroes slain,
Brought death unto the valourous Elven train,
Asunder mighty fortress, pearl and stone
Beneath the mournful heavens riven shone;
O’er verdant vale defiled by awful power,
The dire sulphurous fume (that wretched hour!)
That smother’d life and fed the vengeful fire:
The waste unleash’d by evil’s hateful ire,
O, sing! what wrath unto the city press’d,
Which glory from the valiant Elf-host wrest’d,
Of steadfast souls that warr’d the wicked king,
Who now in blissful halls abide, O sing!
But ere that dreadful ruin came to pass,
There dwelt a smith of writhen iron and brass,
Called Maeglin was; whose sire was Eöl famed,
Who shunn’d his brethren and himself remained
Within the perilous wood (where built his realm),
Renown’d for craft and skill, forged sword and helm,
Anguirel and Anglachel he did cast,
The twain much famed, from falling star amass’d
And Maeglin such a prowess did obtain.
Yet all the mastery of his art, t’was vain,
For fate decreed his future-destined fall,
His coming to the west-most sacred hall.
Oft sought he precious ores in lofty crowns,
For round the fortitudinous Elven-towns,
Encircling mountains watch’d upon the vale,
Beneath the dome of heaven clouded pale,
Tumladen call’d, a blessed flower’d expanse,
Upon which snow-white doves and blossoms dance,
In golden skies, the warmth of Arien’s gaze,
A splendour potent to exalt or raze,
With aureate lustre through the ample lands
Disperses hea’enly light with hallow’d hands,
Or neath the silver beauty of the bloom:
Telperion’s blossom ardent midst the gloom.
Upon a fateful day he did forsake
Companions of his art: ‘twas a mistake
For in deep caves beneath the rocky height,
Dwelt beasts and evils foul’d, that shunn’d the light.
Came Maeglin whither? Thus he took his path,
To darkened caverns which foul odours hath,
And hence did virtuous fortune ill become,
‘Pon wickedness corrupted he did come,
Thus servants of that wretched shadow took
Him from their dark abodes, and northward look.
Before the brazen throne he trembled vain,
The Black King spake, his voice resounded plain.
Thrice from his darkened brow with iron wrought,
Untarnished brilliance issued, which he sought
From lofty princes of the Western Lands.
As grinding steel ‘gainst iron his voice commands,
In dreadful mirth his wrath he doth project,
In similar words to this much fear’d effect:
“Thou dost from guarded Gondolin, hidden fare,
And thence to my dark throne that standeth here,
And as thou hast, what greatly I desire,
That secret fortress wall’d by mountainous spire,
Shouldst thou divulge, here with thy host remain,
Shouldst thou conceal, awaits thee endless pain.”
To him spake Maeglin thus: “I shan’t my oath
Disgraceful sever, nor my honor,” quoth,
“Destroy in aiding thee, and aught thou seek’st,
Or in divulgence e’en in hour bleak’st,
To die by hand accurs’d of thine I would,
Than by mine own my kinsfolk where they stood,
For which thou dost behold before thy throne,
To fellow warriors shan’t in shame atone,
Though thou may’st ‘pon me endless pain inflict,
Naught shall to thee reveal, nor I convict.
And whilst in Stone of Song I shunn’d my kind,
No hurt of thine could sway my noble mind.”
To this, “O wretched creature, thou,” spake he,
“Thou dost not know the anguish here for thee,
Thou hast not suffer’d torment such devised,
Nor hath such suff’ring touch’d thy people prized.
No simple tortures offer’d here, indeed,
Not but a plain contrivance maketh thee bleed,
Stripp’d shalt thou be, of soul and Elven guise,
Upon the barren stone, thou hast no eyes,
To crawl in senseless agony, in vain,
For thou shalt ne’er as I draw breath, again
Look towards unhappy skies, feel sullen air,
Nor gaze ‘pon kingly lords and maidens fair.”
With this the Black Foe of the hallow’d world,
The mighty fall of Gondolin thus unfurl’d.
Enthroned within his brazen halls he broods,
Deviseth plots to quarrel his bitter feuds,
Whilst Maeglin chain‘d in dungeons batter'd lay,
By vengeful fires scorch’d, neath ashes grey,
By bitter iron pikes and lashes thrash’d,
‘Till, sanguine, wept unto the bodies dash'd
By air aflame with wrath was blister'd black,
Tormented by the rage of Morgoth’s wrack,
He bled unto the frothing heated mire
Which fed the hellish ever-raging fire.
Anon was vict’ry won by evil’s might:
Withstood the cruel and brutal flaming light
And suffer’d all the dreadful hurts and wrath
Did he till now, when suff’rance no more hath,
And breathing dolour, ‘pon the rock-bed clave,
For pity begg’d: and Morgoth gladly gave.
Yet one great price for freedom given hence:
“Disclose thy veil’d, obscured home, and whence
May thither I assault of mine lay siege,
And forth defile, beleaguer, slay thy liege,
For great desire strike ‘pon my mind now doth
Thy King to ruin: th’ effect whilst I seethe wroth.”
As doth a beast of horn and writhen steel,
Who hath by torturers been batter’d reel,
Who ere such wrath and horrid pains were gi’en,
Reigned kingly, now whose soul hath all but ri’en,
Doth cast off all that formerly hath, and plead,
His captor’s temp’rance, and his oaths to heed,
To yield aught from his sorrowful keeping, rent
By vicious steel, by redden’d iron spent,
Thus doth that gasping Elven lord beseech,
And disclosed all, whilst Morgoth heard his speech,
And gladden’d heart, and pity thus did feign,
And turn’d back Maeglin towards his fated train.
THE FALL
Now in the blessed city, vig’lant eyes
Abundant were; ‘twas eve of great demise,
But too was morn for celebration of
The Elven host and gen’rous powers above;
The vaulted domed empyrean silent lay,
Wherein the lofty rime-light stars array,
Midst timeless vales of midnight so profound,
The winedark seas, of rich and deep’ning sound,
Neath the horizons of all being enthroned,
Whence glorious radiance oft by man intoned,
Doth issue forth: what wondrous splendour, lo!
Neath sanguine twilight of existence, O!
This is all I have; it ends just before the attack of Morgoth. I took some liberties, but not too much.