There was a king, a king of old,
Most tall and proud, of the Elven folk.
Lord of the sindar, in the land of Beleriand,
In days when happiness with grief been bound.

When first the eyes of Thingol, met with those of Melian,
A maya of powers so great and divine.
They fell into trance, of fate that above,
And so full of magic and joy, ever was their love.

Their daughter was, of the eldar most fair,
Dancing about, with her raven hair,
Dancing through the wind, with the trees at her side,
And none matches her beauty, shining ever so bright.

The king established his kingdom, In the woods of north,
An image of Valinor, so great was her worth.
Fairest of any king dwelling, ever shell it be,
But only at one side, the east of the sea.

Fenced from evil, Doriath for long time have been,
By the girdle of magic, that was set by the queen.
But when its doom came upon her, which no magic can withhold,
Not long will it stand, till the fall of its lord.

So ended the king, for the lust of a jewel,
Which was of power of old, before the sun and the moon.
But he will be always remembered, in the tales of the past,
For long ages his power and kingdom have last.

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