On earth they work, by cosmic reason led,
In old fire forces, thirsting after form.
Felix Balde’s Soul:
I will that their weight shall not burden me,
Nor shall oppose the tendency to float.
(The gnomes cease their movement.)
Ahriman:
Thy speech is good. Swift will I seize thy words
That I may keep them for myself unharmed.
Thou canst not yet develop them thyself.