aimusic.one

[Verse]
In that vast shadow once of yore 
Fingolfin the Noldor king, there standing alone, 
and Ringil drew his sword that gleameth cold and blue. 
In overmastering wrath and hate, 
His hopeless challenge dauntless cried there: 

[Chorus]
Come forth, whom earth and heaven abhors! 
Come forth, o monstrous craven lord, 
and fight with thine own hand and sword, 
thou wielder of hosts of banded thralls, 
thou foe of Gods and elvish race! 
I wait thee here. 
Come! Show thy face!

[Verse 2]
With seven wounds it rent his foe, 
and seven mighty cries of woe rang in the mountains. 
Thrice was Fingolfin blows, thrice he rose.
And he was crushed - not conquered yet; 
one last despairing stroke he gave.
Halt goes forever from that stroke 
great Morgoth! 

[Chorus]
Come forth, whom earth and heaven abhors! 
Come forth, o monstrous craven lord, 
and fight with thine own hand and sword, 
thou wielder of hosts of banded thralls, 
thou foe of Gods and elvish race! 
I wait thee here. 
Come! Show thy face!


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