In Moria, In Khazad-dûm - Dwarrowdelf

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

The shadow lies upon his tomb

In Moria, in Khazad-dûm

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

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