Witches. [_in chorus_] The road is broad, the road is long, Why crowd you so on one another? Scrapes the besom, pricks the prong, Chokes the child, and bursts the mother. Wizards. [_semi-chorus_] We trail us on, like very snails, The women fly with flaunting sails; For, when we run Squire Satan's races, They always win by a thousand paces. Semi-Chorus. Not quite so bad: the women need A thousand paces to help their speed; But let them speed what most they can, With one spring comes up the man. Voice. [_from above_] Come up! come up from the lake with me. Voices. [_from below_] Right gladly would we mount with thee; We wash, and wash, and cease from washing never; Our skins are as white as white can be, But we are as dry and barren as ever. Both Choruses. The wind is hushed, the stars take flight, The sullen moon hath veiled her light, The magic choir from whizzing wings, Long lines of sparkling glory flings. Voice. [_from below_] Stop, stop! Voice. [_from above_] Who bawls so loud from the cleft? Voice. [_from below_] Let me go with you! let me not be left! Three hundred years I grope and grope Round the base and up the slope, But still the summit cheats my hope. I fain would be a merry guest At Satan's banquet with the rest. Both Choruses. On broomstick, and on lusty goat, On pitchfork, and on stick, we float; And he, to-day who cannot soar, Is a lost man for evermore. Half-Witch. [_below_] I hobble on behind them all, The others scarcely hear my call! I find no rest at home: and here, I limp on lamely in the rear. Chorus of Witches. The ointment gives our sinews might,[*n11] For us each rag is sail enough, We find a ship in every trough; Whoso will fly must fly to-night. Both Choruses. While we upon the summit ride, Be yours to sweep along the side; Up and down, and far and wide, On the left, and on the right, Witch and wizard massed together, Scour the moor and sweep the heather, Bravely on Walpurgis-night! [_They alight._ Mephistopheles. What a thronging, and jolting, and rolling, and rattling! What a whizzing, and whirling, and jostling, and battling! What a sparkling, and blazing, and stinking, and burning! And witches that all topsy-turvy are turning!-- Hold fast by me, or I shall lose you quite, Where are you? Faust. [_at a distance_] Here!