(Thus commenced the iron,)
Where I lay in dull and sullen sleep,
Till the miner, gaunt, naked and strong,
With his sharp pickaxe,
And by the light of his flaring torch,
Torch of flary and smoky crimson!
That lit up the gloom like a star,
Forced me from my dull and sullen sleep.
And whistling like the keen northwest over a peak of the Ural mountains, (oh mountains, stern mountains of snow.)
Lifted me, dull and sullen as I was, to the dazzling eye of the sun-god,