HIMRING
Seest thou those mountains over there?
As maidens' heads, golden and fair,
Crowned with fresh flowers, when the Sun
Rises above the eastern land
Their peaks do look; and as the train
That follows holy Arien,
All dressed in beautiful white clothes,
Diamonds and mantles made of snows,
They seem to be, when noon comes near
And firmament is bright and clear.
And as the day begins to cease,
Together with soft gentle breeze,
And when the Sun sets in the West,
With hands of light they are caressed.
Among those mountains, in a dale,
Cloaked in a fragile misty veil,
Rise up thick walls of grey stone made,
And towers of enormous height.
There is one path that will lead thee
Though small and winding it shall be,
To mouth of gorge, which as a gate
Guards the entrance to this estate.
When thou shalt feel fresh breath of air,
Journey's finished, my home is there…