Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day
To find our long-forgotten gold

The pines were roaring on the heights
The winds were moaning in the night
The fire was red, it flaming spread
The trees like torches blazed with light

The wind was on the withered heath
But in the forest stirred no leaf
There shadows lay be night or day
And dark things silent crept beneath

The wind went on from west to east
All movement in the forest ceased
But shrill and harsh across the marsh
Its whistling voices were released

Farewell we call to hearth and hall
Though wind may blow and rain may fall
We must away, ere break of day
Far over the wood and mountain tall