Page:Tales by Musæus, Tieck, Richter, Volume 1.djvu/210

 The youths, possess’d, are running As frantic in the crowd: In vain is force or cunning; In vain to call aloud.

And hurries on by castle, By tower and town, the rout; Like imps in hellish wassail, With cackling laugh and shout.

He too is in the rabble; May not resist their force, Must hear their deafening babble, Attend their frantic course.

But now the Hill appeareth, And music comes thereout; And as the Phantoms hear it, They halt, and raise a shout.

The Mountain starts asunder, A motley crowd is seen; This way and that they wander, In red unearthly sheen.

Then his broad-sword he drew it, And says: “Still true, though lost!” And with mad force he heweth Through that Infernal host.

His youths he sees (how gladly!) Escaping through the vale; The Fiends are fighting madly, And threatening to prevail.

The Dwarfs, when hurt, fly downward, And rise up cured again; And other crowds rush onward, And fight with might and main.

Then saw he from a distance The children safe, and cried: “They need not my assistance, I care not what betide.”

His good broad-sword doth glitter And flash i’ th’ noontide ray; The Dwarfs, with wailing bitter, And howls, depart away.