And, in legions intertangled,

The fire-flies flit, and swarm, and throng,
Till all the mountain depths are spangled.

Tell me, shall we go or stay?
Shall we onward? Come along!
Every thing around is swept
Forward, onward, far away!
Trees and masses intercept
The sight, and wisps on eyery side
Are puffed up and multiplied.

Meph. Now vigorously seize my skirt, and gain This pinnacle of isolated crag.


One may observe with wonder from this point
How Mammon glows among the mountains.
And strangely through the solid depth below
A melancholy light, like the red dawn,
Shoots from the lowest gorge of the abyss
Of mountains, lighting hitherward; there rise
Pillars of smoke, here clouds float gently by;
Here the light burns soft as the enkindled air,
Or the illumined dust of golden flowers;
And now it glides like tender colours spreading;
And now bursts forth in fountains from the earth;
And now it winds, one torrent of broad light,
Through the far valley with a hundred veins;
And now once more within that narrow corner
Masses itself into intensest splendour.

And near us see sparks spring out of the ground,
Like golden sand scattered upon the darkness;
The pinnacles of that black wall of mountains
That hems us in are kindled.

Rare, in faith!

Does not Sir Mammon gloriously illuminate
His palace for this festival-it is

A pleasure which you had not known before.
I spy the boisterous guests already.


The children of the wind rage in the air!
With what fierce strokes they fall upon my neck!

Meph. Cling tightly to the old ribs of the crag.
Beware! for if with them thou warrest
In their fierce flight towards the wilderness,
Their breath will sweep thee into dust, and drag
Thy body to a grave in the abyss.
A cloud thickens the night.

Hark! how the tempest crashes through the forest
The owls fly out in strange affright;

The columns of the evergreen palaces

Are split and shattered;

The roots creak, and stretch, and groan;
And, ruinously overthrown,

The trunks are crushed and shattered

By the fierce blast's unconquerable stress.
Over each other crack and crash they all
In terrible and intertangled fall;

And through the ruins of the shaken mountain

The airs hiss and howl

It is not the voice of the fountain,

Nor the wolf in his midnight prowl.

Dost, thou not hear?

Strange accents are ringing

Aloft, afar, anear;

The witches are singing!
The torrent of a raging wizard song
Streams the whole mountain along.

Chorus of Witches.
The stubble is yellow, the corn is green,
Now to the Brocken the witches go;
The mighty multitude here may be seen
Gathering, wizard and witch, below.
Sir Urean is sitting aloft in the air;
Hey over stock! and hey over stone!

'Twixt witches and incubi, what shall be done?

Tell it who dare! tell it who dare!

A voice. Upon a sow-swine, whose farrows were nine, Old Baubo rideth alone.

Chorus. Honour her, to whom honour is due,

Old mother Baubo, honour to you!

An able sow, with old Baubo upon her,

Is worthy of glory, and worthy of honour!
The legion of witches is coming behind,
Darkening the night, and outspeeding the wind-
A voice. Which way comest thou?
A voice.

Over Ilsenstein;
The owl was awake in the white moon-shine;
I saw her at rest in her downy nest,
And she stared at me with her broad bright eye.


And you may now as well take your course on to Hell,

Since you ride by so fast on the headlong blast.
A voice. She dropt poison upon me as I past.
Here are the wounds

Chorus of Witches. Come away! come along! The way is wide, the way is long,

But what is that for a Bedlam throng?

Stick with the prong, and scratch with the broom.
The child in the cradle lies strangled at home,
And the mother is clapping her hands.-

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Semi-chorus of Wizards 1. We glide tu Like snails when the women are all away; And from a house once given over to sin Woman has a thousand steps to stray.

Semi-chorus 2. A thousand steps must a woman take, Where a man but a single spring will make.

Voices above. Come with us, come with us, from Felunsee,
Voices below. With what joy would we fly through the
upper sky!

We are washed, we are 'nointed, stark naked are we ;
But our toil and our pain are for ever in vain.

Both chorusses. The wind is still, the stars are filed,
The melancholy moon is dead;

The magic notes, like spark on spark,
Drizzle, whistling through the dark.
Come away!

Voices below.

Stay, oh, stay!

Voices above. Out of the crannies of the rocks, Who calls?

Voices below. Oh, let me join your flocks! I, three hundred years have striven

To catch your skirt and mount to Heaven,

And still in vain. Oh, might I be

With company akin to me!

Both chorusses. Some on a ram and some on a prong,

On poles and on broomsticks we flutter along;
Forlorn is the wight who can rise not to-night.

A half-witch below. I have been tripping this many an


Are the others already so far before?
No quiet at home, and no peace abroad!

And less methinks is found by the road.

Chorus of Witches. Come onward, away! aroint thee, aroint!

A witch to be strong must anoint-anoint

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Then every trough will be boat enough;

With a rag for a sail we can sweep through the sky,
Who flies not to-night, when means he to fly ?

Both choruses. We cling to the skirt, and we strike on the ground;

Witch-legions thicken around and around;
Wizard-swarms cover the heath all over.

[They descend. Meph. What thronging, dashing, raging, rustling! What whispering, babbling, hissing, bustling! What glimmering, spurting, stinking, burning! As Heaven and Earth were overturning.

There is a true witch element about us;

Take hold on me, or we shall be divided:

Where are you?

Faust (from a distance.)




I must exert my authority in the house.

Place for young Voland! Pray make way, good people.
Take hold on me, doctor, and with one step
Let us escape from this unpleasant crowd:
They are too mad for people of my sort.
Just there shines a peculiar kind of light-
Something attracts me in those bushes. Come
This way; we shall slip down there in a minute.

Faust. Spirit of Contradiction! Well, lead on-
"Twere a wise feat indeed to wander out
Into the Brocken upon May-day night,
And then to isolate oneself in scorn,
Disgusted with the humours of the time.

Meph. See yonder, round a many-coloured flame

A merry club is huddled altogether:

Even with such little people as sit there
One would not be alone.

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