Then the dwarf said: "This sounds better. To your questions I will answer. To the race of gnomes belong I, Who in crevices are living; Down in subterranean caverns, Watch there gold and silver treasures, Grind and polish bright the crystals, Carry coals to the eternal Fire in the earth's deep centre; And we heat there well. Without us You here would have long since frozen. From Vesuvius and Mount Etna You can see our furnace smoking. E'en for you ungrateful mortals, Though unseen, we're ever working; And sweet lullabies are singing In the mountains to your rivers, That no harm they may be doing; Keep the crumbling rocks from falling, Chain the ice up in the glaciers; Boil for you the pungent rock-salt, Also mix much healing matter With the springs from which you're drinking. Never ceasing, and enormous Is the gray gnomes' daily labour In the bowels of the earth. Formerly they used to know us; Wise and clever men and women, Grave old priests descended to us In the depths, where to our labour They oft listened, and they spoke thus: "In the caves the gods are dwelling." But you have become estranged since; Still, we willingly will open To your gaze our hidden treasures; And we hold in great affection All the travelling German scholars; For their hearts are kind and generous, And they see much more than others. You seem also one, so follow! Here my cave is, in this valley; If you can but stoop a little, I will show you where to enter."