by Sauron Gorthaur
I recall well enough the time when I was wrought
Formed by Eru as I form gold in hand.
I sang with the others in Eru's court
Until I took my form and went into the land.
There gold I formed, I struck, I bent.
Skillfully I learned the art of rings.
I felt the forge's fire's heat
As I wrought trinkets fit for kings.
Although years passed and I had changed
I still remembered the heat of fire
So once more I took up my hammer
Though now power, not beauty, was my desire.
Ah, I still recall the blast of heat,
The feel in my palm of molten gold,
Still see the red of my own dripping blood;
Pain and glory that the world I might hold.
Aye, such a day shall ne'er repeat
As I stood gazing at my hand
Wounded deep that it may wear
Power enough to rule a land.
And now I stand and who shall come?
What could defeat me? Not might or sword.
For on my finger there rests a Ring,
A Ring of Power. Beware its lord!