Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/249

Rh Ah, o'er every plant they rush! Ah, their cruel footsteps crush All the flowers that fill their path! Who will dare to stem their wrath?

Brethren, let us venture all! Virtue in your pure cheek glows. Phœbus will attend our call When he sees our heavy woes; And that we may have aright Weapons suited to the fight, He the mountain shaketh now— From its brow Rattling down Stone on stone Through the thicket spread appear. Brethren, seize them! Wherefore fear? Now the villain crew assail, As though with a storm of hail, And expel the strangers wild From these regions soft and mild Where the sun has ever smiled!

What strange wonder do I see? Can it be? All my limbs of power are reft, And all strength my hand has left. Can it be? None are strangers that I see! And our brethren 'tis who go On before, the way to show! Oh, the reckless, impious ones! How they, with their jarring tones, Beat the time, as on they hie! Quick, my brethren!—let us fly!