Читать книгу The Greatest German Classics (Vol. 1-14) - Various - Страница 1040

Cling to these ancient ribs of granite rock,

Else to yon depths profound it you will hurl.

A murky vapor thickens night.

Hark! Through the woods the tempests roar!

The owlets flit in wild affright.

Hark! Splinter'd are the columns that upbore

The leafy palace, green for aye:

The shivered branches whirr and sigh,

Yawn the huge trunks with mighty groan,

The roots, upriven, creak and moan!

In fearful and entangled fall,

One crashing ruin whelms them all,

While through the desolate abyss,

Sweeping the wreck-strewn precipice,

The raging storm-blasts howl and hiss!

Aloft strange voices dost thou hear?

Distant now and now more near?

Hark! the mountain ridge along,

Streameth a raving magic-song!

WITCHES (in chorus)

Now to the Brocken the witches hie,

The stubble is yellow, the corn is green;

Thither the gathering legions fly,

And sitting aloft is Sir Urian seen:

O'er stick and o'er stone they go whirling along,

Witches and he-goats, a motley throng.