When the last Eagle flies over the cold Misty Mountains,
And in far Rivendell runs dry the last dusty fountain,
In the dim and cloudy heavens, old and worn but soaring still
You may yet see the glimmer of the last Silmaril.
Long ago in the West lands shone the Two Trees in glory;
And their light, Moon and Sun, radiant in song and story.
And this light Fëanor of indomitable will
Bound into three flawless gemstones, the renowned Silmarils.
Now the Two Trees are poisoned, and the Silmarils scattered;
Two were lost to fire and water when Morgoth’s power was shattered.
But on Eärendil’s brow see one stone gleaming still;
Look and see it, how it sparkles – it’s the last Silmaril.
I still shine, I still shine.
Gil-Estel, the Star of Hope, endless soars in elf-ship battered
‘Til the Last Battle comes, and Middle-Earth shall be shattered.
Reunited the Three, and their light the Trees shall fill
And, restored, their light shall shame even the last Silmaril.
They shall shine, they shall shine.
