Хоббит

           Thenthedwarvesthemselvesbroughtforthharpsandinstrumentsregainedfromthehoard,andmademusictosoftenhismood;buttheirsongwasnotaselvishsong,andwasmuchlikethesongtheyhadsunglongbeforeinBilbo’slittlehobbit-hole.

           "UndertheMountaindarkandtall

           TheKinghascomeuntohishall!

           Hisfoeisdead,theWormofDread,

           Andeversohisfoesshallfall.

           Theswordissharp,thespearislong,

           Thearrowswift,theGateisstrong;

           Theheartisboldthatlooksongold;

           Thedwarvesnomoreshallsufferwrong.

           Thedwarvesofyoremademightyspells,

           Whilehammersfelllikeringingbells

           Inplacesdeep,wheredarkthingssleep,

           Inhollowhallsbeneaththefells.

           Onsilvernecklacestheystrung

           Thelightofstars,oncrownstheyhung

           Thedragon-fire,fromtwistedwire

           Themelodyofharpstheywrung.

           Themountainthroneoncemoreisfreed!

           O!wanderingfolk,thesummonsheed!

           Comehaste!Comehaste!acrossthewaste!

           Thekingoffriendandkinhasneed.

           Nowcallweovermountainscold,

           ’Comehackuntothecavernsold’!

           HereattheGatesthekingawaits,

           Hishandsarerichwithgemsandgold.

           Thekingiscomeuntohishall

           UndertheMountaindarkandtall.

           TheWormofDreadisslainanddead,

           Andeversoourfoesshallfall!"

           ThissongappearedtopleaseThorin,andhesmiledagainandgrewmerry;andhebeganreckoningthedistancetotheIronHillsandhowlongitwouldbebeforeDaincouldreachtheLonelyMountain,ifhehadsetoutassoonasthemessagereachedhim.