One on another clashing, they fall,
And through the clefts, where their wrecks are buried,
Hissing and howling the winds are hurried.
Sounds of voices dost thou hear?
Voices far, and voices near?
And, all the mountain side along,
Streams a raving wizard song.
Witches. [in chorus]
The witches to the Brocken ride,
The stubble is yellow, the corn is green;