The eyrie on the mountain high
Has long forgotten treading feet;
The burning glint of orange eye,
The walls will never meet.
They sky bends empty, shining blue
Where only lesser wings shall glide-
The creaking loneliness will rue
The masters that have died.
The herds forget their lordships now,
The forests wild and thorny run.
The fells and fields with drying grass
Burn beneath the untamed sun.
Where shadows fell from shuddering wings
The scattered men tear life from land
That, in the way of mortal things,
Has forgot its ruling hand.
Now cold and lonely breaks the dawn-
The hills lie low and humbled-
The dragons from this earth have gone-
The greatest land has crumbled.