Voice. [from above]
Come up! come up from the lake with me.
Voices. [from below]
Right gladly would we mount with thee;
We wash, and wash, and cease from washing never;
Our skins are as white as white can be,
But we are as dry and barren as ever.
Both Choruses.
The wind is hushed, the stars take flight,
The sullen moon hath veiled her light,
The magic choir from whizzing wings,
Long lines of sparkling glory flings.
Voice. [from below]
Stop, stop!
Voice. [from above]
Who bawls so loud from the cleft?
Voice. [from below]
Let me go with you! let me not be left!
Three hundred years I grope and grope
Round the base and up the slope,
But still the summit cheats my hope.
I fain would be a merry guest
At Satan’s banquet with the rest.
Both Choruses.
On broomstick, and on lusty goat,
On pitchfork, and on stick, we float;
And he, to-day who cannot soar,
Is a lost man for evermore.
Half-Witch. [below]
I hobble on behind them all,
The others scarcely hear my call!
I find no rest at home: and here,
I limp on lamely in the rear.
Chorus of Witches.
The ointment gives our sinews might,[n11]
For us each rag is sail enough,
We find a ship in every trough;
Whoso will fly must fly to-night.
Both Choruses.
While we upon the summit ride,
