(Image: 'Ungoliant and the Two Trees' by Ted Nasmith)
A! the Trees of Light, tall and shapely,
gold and silver, more glorious than the sun,
than the moon more magical, o'er the meads of the Gods
their fragrant frith and flowerladen
gardens gleaming, once gladly shone.
In death they are darkened, they drop their leaves
from blackened branches bled by Morgoth
and Ungoliant the grim the Gloomweaver.
In spider's form despair and shadow
a shuddering fear and shapeless night
she weaves in a web of winding venom
that is black and breathless. Their branches fail,
the light and laughter of their leaves are quenched.
Mirk goes marching, mists of blackness,
through the halls of the Mighty hushed and empty,
the gates of the Gods are in gloom mantled.
“The Flight of the Noldoli from Valinor”
(lines 1 to 16)
The Lays of Beleriand (1985)