The pines were roaring on the height, The winds were moaning in the night The fire was red, it, flaming, spread; The trees like torches blazed with light
The bells were ringing in the dale And men looked up with faces pale; The dragon's ire, more fierce than fire, Laid low their towers and houses frail
The mountain smoked beneath the moon; The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom They fled their hall, to dying, fall, Beneath his feet, beneath the moon