Hound and horn give voice and tongue,
Fill the woods with echoes gay;
Let your music sweet be flung
To the Brocken far away.
Jägers with the horns ye wind,
Hounds whose tongues the chase shall bay;
Let your voice the echoes find
Of the Brocken old and grey.
Hark! amidst the bracken green
Bells the buck whose vigil keeps