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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31314-8.txt b/31314-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..884d4af --- /dev/null +++ b/31314-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9337 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Trumpeter of Säkkingen, by Joseph Victor von Scheffel + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Trumpeter of Säkkingen + A Song from the Upper Rhine. + +Author: Joseph Victor von Scheffel + +Translator: Francis Brünnow + +Release Date: February 18, 2010 [EBook #31314] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRUMPETER OF SÄKKINGEN *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from scans obtained from The +Internet Archive. + + + + + +Transcriber's notes: +1. This book is derived from the Web Archive, +http://www.archive.org/details/trumpeterskking00schegoog. + +2. The oe diphthong is represented by [oe]. + + + + THE TRUMPETER OF SÄKKINGEN. + + + + + + THE + + THE TRUMPETER OF SÄKKINGEN + + + + A Song from the Upper Rhine. + + + + + BY + + JOSEPH VICTOR VON SCHEFFEL. + + + + + TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY + + MRS. FRANCIS BRÜNNOW. + + + + + _Translation authorised by the Poet._ + + + + + London: + CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. + NEW YORK: SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG, & CO. + 1877. + + + + + + + CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS. + CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS. + + + + + + + + O Song, at home well known to fame, + That German hearts hath deeply stirred + And long hath made of Scheffel's name + A dear and honoured household word, + + Go forth in thy first foreign dress, + Go forth to Albion's noble land! + Will she not greetings kind express, + And warmly clasp the stranger's hand? + + The Emerald Isle will surely give + A welcome neither cold nor faint; + For on thy pages still doth live + The name of Erin's ancient Saint. + + Across the sea my country's shores + As Hope's bright star before me rise; + Will she not open wide her doors + To one who on her heart relies? + + Farewell, oh work of vanished hours; + When suffering rent my weary heart, + Thy breath of fragrant woodland flowers + Did life renew, fresh strength impart. + + Oh Scheffel! may thy years be long! + And may'st thou live to see the time, + When this thy genial Schwarzwald song + Will find a home in every clime. + + +_Basel_, _June_, 1877. + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + DEDICATION + + PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION + + PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION + + PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION + + PREFACE TO THE FIFTIETH EDITION + + + FIRST PART. + + HOW YOUNG WERNER RODE INTO THE SCHWARZWALD + + + SECOND PART. + + YOUNG WERNER WITH THE SCHWARZWALD PASTOR + + + THIRD PART. + + ST. FRIDOLIN'S DAY + + + FOURTH PART. + + YOUNG WERNER'S ADVENTURES ON THE RHINE + + + FIFTH PART. + + THE BARON AND HIS DAUGHTER + + + SIXTH PART. + + HOW YOUNG WERNER BECAME THE BARON'S TRUMPETER + + + SEVENTH PART. + + THE EXCURSION TO THE MOUNTAIN LAKE + + + EIGHTH PART. + + THE CONCERT IN THE GARDEN PAVILION + + + NINTH PART. + + TEACHING AND LEARNING + + + TENTH PART. + + YOUNG WERNER IN THE GNOME'S CAVE + + + ELEVENTH PART. + + THE HAUENSTEIN RIOT + + + TWELFTH PART. + + YOUNG WERNER AND MARGARETTA + + + THIRTEENTH PART. + + WERNER SUES FOR MARGARETTA + + + FOURTEENTH PART. + + THE BOOK OF SONGS + + YOUNG WERNER'S SONGS + + SONGS OF THE CAT HIDDIGEIGEI + + SONGS OF THE SILENT MAN + + SOME OF MARGARETTA'S SONGS + + WERNER'S SONGS. FIVE YEARS LATER + + + FIFTEENTH PART. + + THE MEETING IN ROME + + + SIXTEENTH PART. + + SOLUTION AND END + + + NOTES. + + + + + DEDICATION. + + + "Who is yonder light-haired stranger + Who there like a cat is roaming + O'er the roof of Don Pagano?"-- + Thus asked many honest burghers, + Dwellers on the Isle of Capri, + When they from the market turning + Looked up at the palm-tree and the + Low-arched roof of moorish fashion. + + And the worthy Don Pagano + Said: "That is a strange queer fellow, + And most strange his occupation. + Came here with but little luggage, + Lives here quite alone but happy, + Clambers up the steepest mountains, + Over cliffs, through surf is strolling, + Loves to steal along the sea-shore. + Also lately 'mid the ruins + Of the villa of Tiberius + With the hermits there caroused. + What's his business?--He's a German, + And who knows what they are doing? + But I saw upon his table + Heaps of paper written over, + Leaving very wasteful margins; + I believe he is half crazy, + I believe he's making verses." + + Thus he spoke.--And I myself was + This queer stranger. Solitary + I had on this rocky island + Sung this song of my dear Schwarzwald. + I went as a wand'ring scholar + To far countries, to Italia; + With much art became acquainted, + Also with bad vetturinos, + And with many burning flea-bites; + But the sweet fruit of the lotus, + Which doth banish love of country + And the longing to return there, + I have never found here growing. + + 'Twas in Rome. Hard lay the winter + On th' eternal sev'n-hilled city: + Hard? for even Marcus Brutus + Would have caught a bad catarrh then; + And the rain seemed never-ending. + Like a dream then rose the vision + Of the Schwarzwald, and the story + Of the young musician Werner + And the lovely Margaretta. + In my youth I have stood often + By their graves close to the Rhine shore; + Many things which lie there buried + Are, however, long forgotten. + But like one to whom a sudden + Ringing in his ears betokens + That at home of him they're thinking, + So I heard young Werner's trumpet + Through the Roman Winter, through the + Carnival's gay flower-show-- + Heard it from afar, then nearer, + Like the crystal which of vap'rous + Fine materials is condensing + And increases radiating; + So the figures of this song grew-- + Even followed me to Naples. + In the halls of the Museum + Who should meet me but the Baron + Shaking his big cane and smiling, + And before Pompeii's gate sat + The black tom-cat Hiddigeigei. + Purring, quoth he: "Leave all study; + What is all this ancient rubbish, + E'en that dog there in mosaic + In the tragic Poet's dwelling, + In comparison with me--the + Epic type of all cat-nature?" + + This I could no longer stand, so + Now began this ghost to banish. + From the brother of the lovely + Luisella, from the crooked + Cunning druggist of Sorrento + Quantities of ink I ordered, + And sailed o'er the bay to Capri. + Here began my exorcisms. + Many pale-gold coloured sea-fish, + Many lobsters, many oysters, + I ate up without compassion; + Drank the red wine like Tiberius, + Without mercy poetising; + On the roof went up and down till + All resounded metrically, + And the charm was then accomplished: + Chained up in four-measured trochees + Lay those figures which so long now + From my couch sweet sleep had banished. + + 'Twas high time, too; Spring already + Now gave signal of his coming-- + Buds were sprouting on the fig-trees; + Shots were cracking, for with guns and + Nets they were the quails pursuing, + Who towards home their flight were taking; + And the minstrel was in peril + Then of seeing feathered colleagues + Set upon the table roasted. + This dread o'er him, pen and inkstand + Flew against the wall together. + Ready now and newly soled were + My strong boots which old Vesuvius + Had much damaged with his sulphur. + Farther now I journey onward. + Up, my good old Marinaro! + Off from land! the waves with pleasure + Bear light hearts and weightless freightage. + + But the song, which with such happy + Spring-born feelings from my heart welled, + Bears my greetings to my country + And to you, my honoured parents. + Many faults are in it, truly: + Tragic pathos may be wanting, + And a racy tendance; also, + As in Amaranth, the fragrant + Incense of a pious soul, its + Sober but pretentious colouring. + Take him, as he is, this ruddy. + Rough, uncouth son of the mountains, + With a pine branch on his straw hat. + What he's wanting in, pray, cover + With the veil of kind indulgence. + Take him not as thanks, for always + In your Book of Love I'm debtor, + But as greeting and as witness, + That a man whom worldly fortune + Has not placed 'mid smiling verdure, + Yet can, happy as a lark pour + Out his song on leafless branches. + + + Capri, _May 1st_, 1853. + + + + + PREFACE + + + TO THE SECOND EDITION. + + + Five years, my merry song, have now rolled by + Since thou didst venture thy first course to run, + A simple strolling minstrel's chance to try, + But no great laurels so far hast thou won. + In circles of prosaic breathing mortals + No praise was given thee of any kind-- + Where formal stiffness bars life's glowing portals, + Thou and thy kindred can no quarter find. + And in the coteries of hoops and laces + Few were the readers, fewer still the praises. + + Not everything suits everyone: the hill + Grows different flowers than the vale and lea: + But here and there in German homes there will + Be found some hearts who fondly turn to thee; + Where merry fellows are their wine enjoying + With cheerful songs, thy praises will resound; + Near landscape-painters' easels thou art lying, + And in a huntsman's bag thou oft art found, + And e'en of pastors it has been reported + To thee as to their prayer-books they've resorted. + + + And many who have taken a young bride + To spend the honeymoon 'midst rural scenes, + Do like to read thee, sitting side by side; + Of happy hours thou often art the means. + Then Säkkingen, the fair Black Forest's treasure, + Which found at first in thee not much delight, + Has by degrees derived from thee great pleasure, + And to her heart with love has pressed thee tight. + Upon the whole, success outweighs detraction, + And thou canst view thy fate with satisfaction. + + + Now that thou wilt a second course begin, + I should for thee a better dress prepare, + With finer threads the verses' measure spin, + Here lengthen out, there shorten with more care, + I know it well, right often have I faltered, + Some of thy trochees sound a little lame; + But the old humour now, alas! is altered, + The mood which gave thee birth is not the same. + O rosy dreams of youth, when joy abounded, + Wherefore so soon by gloomy clouds surrounded! + + + Once more in my dear Schwarzwald I now rest, + And near me rush the healing waters out, + On high a bird of prey soars o'er his nest, + And in the brook are sporting tiny trout. + From charcoal kilns the smoke clouds are ascending, + With iris-coloured hues the sun embrace, + And stately giant pines in rows unending, + Like wreaths of evergreens, the mountains grace. + A spicy hay-scent rises from the meadow, + And honest folk dwell 'neath their thatched roof's + shadow. + + + And yet--should I now try new songs to sing, + The old accustomed tone I could not find; + Too often grief my soul with pangs doth wring, + Instead of mirth, scorn filleth now my mind. + The world serves idols now, the good ignoring, + And truth is silent, beauty hides her face; + What is unnatural men are adoring, + God is forgotten. Mammon takes his place! + The Poet, now, should be a prophet warning, + Like those of old, reproving, praying, mourning! + + + 'Tis not _my_ sphere; a mighty stirring song + Requires another man, a different art; + But though so much prevails that's sad and wrong. + One may not quite disdain a merry heart. + Go forth, my song, then, as thou didst before, + A cheerful memory of life's fresh spring; + Cheer up those hearts, which grief made sad and sore, + And to friends far and near my greeting bring. + Whenever men to nobler aims aspire, + Then higher too will ring the poet's lyre. + + +Rippoldsau, September, 1858. + + + + + PREFACE + + TO THE THIRD EDITION. + + + Hiddigeigei, his opinion: + "Strange, perverse, are all mankind, + Who, when discord holds dominion, + In such ditties pleasure find.... + Questions which the world are shaking, + Now the thinker's mind assail, + And no light as yet is breaking, + Which solution shall prevail. + + + "Yet our song unto perdition + Has not been condemned, I hear-- + What a marvel!--an edition + For the third time will appear. + Which in new dress, not inferior + (Of the old nought has been spared), + And, with quite unchanged interior, + For its third trip is prepared. + + + "I regret that I'm declining, + And I fear I have the mange; + And I show now, by my whining, + When the wind and weather change. + Coming storms, when brewing, ever + My keen senses do betray; + And the atmosphere was never + Sultry as it is to-day. + + + "Doubly thus I feel this parting, + But thy course must onward lead; + Take my blessing, song, on starting, + And the cat's well-meant good speed! + The green Rhine, the Schwarzwald breezes, + Bring with them health, peace, and rest; + Such a merry fellow pleases, + And is hailed a welcome guest. + + + "Golden Spring, thee still I'm praising; + When the trumpet-notes rang out, + Then my bristling fur seemed blazing, + And bright sparks flew all about; + And the trumpet with my growling + Then defied Fate's evil doom; + Gentle is to-day my howling + O'er the hidden future's gloom." + +_Summer_, 1862. + + + + + PREFACE + + TO THE FOURTH EDITION. + + + The Boezberg for the Rhine I have been leaving, + A home-sick longing stirred my heart within, + Once more that fragrant air I would be breathing + Again would see the town of Fridolin, + As if at my return with joy elated, + She lay there basking in the autumn sun, + Her minster's towers lately renovated, + Reflected in the river, brightly shone; + Far to the North, through bluish vapour breaking, + The Hozzenwald, a stately background making. + + + From the Gallus-Thurm on the Roman wall erected, + To where the ancient convent buildings lie, + The well-known gable roofs I all detected, + Where often my light skiff had glided by; + And where the shore by gravel banks is bounded, + A sunny garden's blooming face doth smile; + Half hidden by the chestnuts which surround it + Lies cosily the castle's graceful pile. + To it my hat in greeting I am tossing, + As o'er the ancient covered bridge I'm crossing. + + + Unto the dead my steps at first were tending, + Unto the graveyard where the Rhine flows by, + For many had been called to rest unending, + Who once with me enjoyed this balmy sky. + The old stone wall I neared with deep emotion, + Inscribed with Werner Kirchhof s name and arms, + And of his wife a record of devotion, + Which, though long past, e'en now attracts and charms. + And Heaven's blessing on the pair alighted. + By death the same year they were re-united. + + + To the market then I turned. "Are ghosts here wandering. + Or is it you yourself who meets mine eyes?" + So said the mayor by the court-house standing, + Who slowly did the stranger recognise.... + Long years have passed since friends were often going + To hear my judgments in the dusky court; + But though now many heads gray locks are showing, + Their hearts are fresh, their memory is not short; + And as we never shunned good cheer and drinking, + From foaming bumpers we'll not now be shrinking. + + + 'Tis true the Button landlord has been moving + Out of his cosy tavern on the Square, + But still retains his former skill in brewing, + And in his new inn keeps the same good fare. + And as around the table we sat cheering + Our hearts with kindly memories of old, + From many lips I these glad news was hearing, + Which please the Poet more than heaps of gold: + The Trumpeter, whose story I'd been singing, + To young and old more joy was daily bringing. + + + As a vignette the weekly paper gracing + He's blowing politics instead of music now; + And even more, somebody has been placing + My hero on the stage--but ask not how. + Could I but see the walls of the new tower, + Which now is rising in the old one's place, + Embellished by an artist of great power-- + The figures of my song devised with grace! + Thus might an artist's hand make expiation + For the abuse by stage-representation. + + + However, let that go, I am not fearing + Whatever purpose thou mayst serve my song; + Now that a new edition is appearing, + I send my greeting home with it along. + On thy fourth tour thou Schwarzwald-child be hieing, + Where truth and goodness dwell, there enter in, + And preach to those who with _ennui_ are sighing, + How innocent amusement they may win. + As often as there comes a new edition, + "Preserve thee, God!" be ever my petition. + + +Seon in the Aargau, _November_, 1864. + + + + + PREFACE + + TO THE FIFTIETH EDITION. + + + The Trumpeter now, all alive and refreshed, + To the Jubilee loudly is blowing; + The present year has both of us blessed, + Great favour and lustre bestowing. + I have my fiftieth year attained, + Through joy and through sorrow surviving, + And his editions--such fame has he gained-- + At the fiftieth are now arriving. + + + It may be that I a part of my youth + And joy with him have been leaving; + But still from these scenes--to tell the truth-- + Great pleasure I now am receiving. + To the Eggberg I climbed, where on high are seen + The homes of the Hauenstein peasant; + Their straw-thatched roofs with mosses still green, + But no more quaint costumes at present. + + + Through gaps in the forest I see shining bright + The snow-peaks of Switzerland's Giants, + The steep Finsteraarhorn's towering height + The Jungfrau dazzling with diamonds; + And as to the west I turn my gaze, + Blue ridge above ridge is unfolding: + And, in the evening's golden haze, + I'm the Vosges' great Belchen beholding. + + + When now to Säkkingen downward I hie, + Through the dark green forest is gleaming + The silvery lake, like the earth's clear eye, + Looking upward, invitingly beaming. + Gneiss rocks high o'er the grassy shore rise; + And placed so as best to show it, + Inscribed on a rock this meets mine eyes: + "Säkkingen, the town, to her Poet!" + + + And now, as by Bally's castle I stand, + There my Trumpeter also stands blowing, + Cast finely in bronze by a master's hand. + That they know us well here all are showing; + For, when I was going to pay at the inn, + The kind hostess refused quite indignant. + 'Tis clear, in the town of St. Fridolin, + O'er us a bright star shines benignant. + + + The Trumpeter bravely has blown his way + Through much that his patience was tasking; + And the publisher also his joy doth betray: + For the author's likeness he's asking. + Accept then this book, my friends, as before, + With kind and growing affection; + When the Schwarzwald's Poet shall be no more, + Still hold him in fond recollection. + +Carlsruhe, _October_, 1876. + + + + + + + THE + + TRUMPETER OF SÄKKINGEN. + + + + + FIRST PART. + + HOW YOUNG WERNER RODE INTO THE SCHWARZWALD. + + + To the Schwarzwald soars my song, up + To the Feldberg, where the last small + Cluster of its comrade mountains + Toward the south are boldly looking, + And, all mailed in fir-tree armour, + Keep good watch there on the Rhine. + + + Be thou greeted, peaceful forest! + Be ye greeted, ancient pine-trees, + Ye, who oft beneath your shadow + Me, the weary one, have sheltered. + Oddly twisted, spread your roots down + Deep within the earth's vast bowels, + Strength from out those depths imbibing, + While to us is closed the entrance. + And you envy not a transient + Human being's transient doings. + Only smile;--his feast at Christmas + You adorn with your young scions. + In your sturdy trunks lives also + Conscious life-sustaining power. + Resin through your veins is coursing; + And your dreamy thoughts are surging + Slow and heavy, upward, downward. + Oft I saw the clear and gummy + Tears which from your bark were oozing, + When a woodman's wanton axe-stroke + Rudely felled some loved companion. + Oft I heard your topmost summits + Spirit-like together whisper. + Then there breathed throughout my soul a + Sweet mysterious solemn dreaming. + Don't find fault then, if my song now + Soars within the forest shades. + + + 'Twas in March: still played the Winter + Masquerade; the branches, laden + With fantastical ice-crystals, + To the ground were lowly drooping; + Here and there, out of Earth's bosom + Tender plants their heads were thrusting-- + Wood-anemones and cowslips. + As the patriarch, old Noah, + At the time of the great Deluge, + Sent the dove to reconnoitre: + So with winter's ice sore burdened, + With impatience sends the Earth forth + These first flowers with a question, + Asking, whether the oppressor + Has not come to his last gasp yet. + Blustering from the Feldberg's summit + Now old Master Storm is rushing, + And rejoices, through the dark dense + Forest he again is blowing; + Says: "I greet you, ancient comrades; + Why I come, you know the reason-- + They believe, poor mortal children, + When they see me tearing, snatching + Roughly some old hat away, + I am only there to frighten. + That would be a pretty business, + Breaking chimneys, smashing windows, + Scattering through the air some thatchings, + Tearing some old woman's clothing + Till she signs the cross in praying! + But you fir-trees know me better, + Me, the fair Spring's thorough cleaner, + Who what's mouldy sweeps afar off-- + Who what's rotten blows to pieces-- + Who the earth's domain well cleanses, + That his radiant Lord and Master + Worthily may make his entrance. + And you, noble forest comrades, + Who so oft, with bronze-like foreheads, + Bravely have withstood my rudeness, + Ye whose trunks I have to thank for + Many knocks against my skull-bone, + Ye alone shall hear my secret: + Soon the Spring himself he cometh, + And then, when the buds are bursting, + Lark and blackbird sing their carols, + And with fervent heat the Spring sun + Brightly on your heads is shining, + Then remember me, the Storm-wind, + Who to-day, with boisterous fury + As his harbinger swept past." + + + Speaking thus, he shook the tree-tops + With great roughness; boughs are snapping, + Branches falling, and a thick, fine + Rain of pine-leaves crackles downward. + But the fir-trees, quite indignant, + Took small notice of this homage. + From their summits rang the answer, + Rather scolding, I should call it: + "You unmannerly rude fellow! + We will have no business with you, + And regret much that the finest + Lords have oft the rudest servants. + To the Alps begone directly, + There is sport fit for your humour; + There stand walls of rock all barren; + Entertain yourself with them there." + + + Now, while thus the storm and fir-trees + Held such converse with each other, + Could be heard a horse's footfall. + Toiling through the snow-piled wood-path + Seeks his way a weary horseman; + Gaily flutters in the storm-wind, + To and fro, his long gray mantle, + His fair curling locks are waving, + And, from out the cocked-up hat there + Boldly nods a heron's feather. + On his lips was just appearing + Such a downy beard as ladies + Much admire, because it showeth + That its bearer is a man, still + One whose kisses will not wound them. + But not many pretty lips had + Felt the soft touch of this beard yet. + Which, as if for fun and mischief, + Snow and ice now decked with crystals. + In his clear blue eyes were glowing + Warmth and mildness, earnest meaning, + And you could not doubt his fist would + Strike a valiant blow, when needed, + With the heavy basket-hilted + Sword, which, worn suspended by a + Black belt from his shoulder, well-nigh + Grazed the ground as he was riding. + Wound around his riding-doublet + Was a sash, to which was tied the + Richly-gilded shining trumpet, + Which he often with his mantle + Sheltered from the falling snow-flakes; + But, whene'er the wind pierced through it, + Bringing forth tones shrill and wailing; + Then around his mouth there played a + Sweet strange smile of melancholy. + + + Silent through the forest's thicket + On he rode, while often roving + Were his glances--as the case is, + When a wanderer for the first time + Over unknown roads is travelling. + Rough the path--the poor horse often + In the snow was nearly sinking, + And o'er gnarl'd and tangled branches + Of the knotted pine-roots stumbling. + And the rider, in ill-humour, + Said: "Sometimes it is quite tedious, + Through the world alone to travel. + There are times, 'mid gloomy forests, + When one longeth for companions. + Since I bade farewell this morning + To the good monks of St. Blasien, + Lonely was the road and dreary. + Scattered here and there, a peasant, + Through the snow-storm running swiftly, + Hardly did my greeting notice. + Then a pair of coal-black ravens, + Who with hoarse discordant croakings, + O'er a dead mole fiercely quarrelled; + For the past two hours, however, + I not once have had the honour + To behold one living being. + And in this lone forest district, + Where the lofty snow-clad pine-trees + Look as if in shrouds enveloped, + I should like to have some comrades. + Were they even rogues or gipsies, + Or those two suspicious fellows + Who escorted the old knight once + Through the forest's gloom and thicket; + Then appeared as Death and Devil, + Grinning in his face with scorn! + I should rather ride with them now-- + Rather fight them, or play lively + Dances for them, than so lonely + Thus to trot through this dense forest." + + + All comes to an end, however, + Even riding through the forests. + Round the trunks it grew much lighter, + Storm and snow-clouds were receding, + And the blue sky smiled benignant + Through the dense shade of the pine-woods. + Thus the miner, looking upward. + Sees, far at the pit's mouth shining. + Like a star, the distant daylight, + Which he greets with joyful shouting. + Likewise such a cheerful feeling + Brightens up our riders face. + So he reached the forest's border, + And his eyes, so long restricted + By dark woods to narrow prospects, + Gladly swept the wide horizon. + + + O how lovely woods and fields lay! + Green meads in the narrow valley, + Straw-thatched huts, low-roofed and mossy. + And the modest village steeple; + Deep below, where dusky forests + Stretch along unto the lowlands, + Like a long bright streak of silver, + Takes the Rhine his westward course. + Far off from the island glisten + Battlements and lofty houses, + And the minster's two tall spires; + While beyond, in misty distance + Shining, rise up unto Heaven + Snowy peaks of giant mountains, + Guardians of Helvetia's soil. + As the pallid ardent thinker's + Eye doth glow and cheek doth redden, + When a thought, new and creative, + Through his brain has flashed like lightning, + So the golden light of evening + Glows upon the Alpine Giants. + (Do they dream of throes of labour + Which their mother-earth of old felt, + When they from her womb were bursting?) + + + From the horse got off our rider, + To a pine-tree stump he bound it, + Gazed in wonder at the landscape, + Spoke no word, but shouting tossed up + In the air his pointed cocked hat, + And began to blow a cheering + Joyous tune upon his trumpet. + To the Rhine it bore a greeting, + Over toward the Alps it floated, + Merry now, then full of feeling, + Like a prayer devout and solemn, + Then again quite roguish, joyful. + Now trari-trara resounded, + Echo's voice her plaudits sending + From the bosom of the forest. + Fair it was o'er hill and valley, + But fair also to behold him, + As he in the deep snow standing + Lightly on his horse was leaning; + Now and then a golden sunbeam + Glory shed on man and trumpet, + In the background gloomy fir-trees, + Farther down among the meadows + Rang his tunes out not unheeded! + There was walking then the worthy + Pastor of the neighbouring village, + Who the snow-drifts was examining, + Which, fast melting with the surging + Waters rising o'er the meadows, + Threatened to destroy the grass there. + Plunged in thought, he deeply pondered + How to ward off this great danger. + Round him bounded, loudly barking, + His two white and shaggy dogs. + + + You who live in smoky cities, + And are separated wholly + From the simple life of nature, + Shrug your shoulders! for my muse will + Joyfully now sing the praises + Of a pastor in the country. + Simple is his life, and narrow: + Where the village ends, end also + All his labours and endeavours. + While men slaughtered one another, + In the bloody Thirty Years' War, + For God's honour, the calm grandeur + Of the Schwarzwald's solemn pine-woods + Breathed its peace into his soul. + Spider-webs spread o'er his book-shelves; + And, 'mid all the theologians' + Squabbles, he most likely never + Had read one polemic treatise. + With dogmatics altogether, + Science in her heavy armour, + He possessed but slight acquaintance. + But, whenever 'mongst his people + Could some discord be adjusted-- + When the spiteful neighbours quarrelled; + When the demon of dissension + Marriage marred and children's duty; + When the daily load of sorrow + Heavily weighed down some poor man, + And the needy longing soul looked + Eagerly for consolation-- + Then, as messenger from Heaven, + To his flock the old man hastened; + From the depths of his heart's treasure + Gave to each advice and comfort. + And if, in a distant village, + Someone lay upon a sick-bed, + With grim Death hard battle waging, + Then--at midnight--at each hour, + When a knock came at his hall-door-- + E'en if snow the pathway covered-- + Undismayed he went to comfort + And bestow the sacred blessing. + Solitary was his own life, + For his nearest friends were only + His two noble dogs (St. Bernards). + His reward: a little child oft + Bashfully approached him, kissing + His old hand with timid reverence; + Also oft a grateful smile played + O'er the features of the dying, + Which was meant for the old priest. + + + Unperceived the old man came now + By the border of the forest, + To the Trumpeter whose last notes + Rang resounding in the distance, + Tapped him friendly on the shoulder: + "My young master, may God bless you, + 'Twas a fine tune you were playing! + Since the horsemen of the emperor + Buried here their serjeant-major, + Whom a Swedish cannon-ball had + Wounded mortally at Rhinefeld, + And they blew as a farewell then + The Reveille for their dead comrade-- + Though 'tis long since it has happened, + I have never heard such sounds here. + Only on the organ plays my + Organist, and that quite poorly; + Therefore I am struck with wonder + To encounter such an Orpheus. + Will you treat to such fine music + The wild beasts here of our forest, + Stag and doe, and fox and badger? + Or, perhaps, was it a signal, + Like the call of the lost huntsman? + I can see that you are strange here, + By your long sword and your doublet; + It is far still to the town there, + And the road impracticable. + Look, the Rhine-fog mounts already + High up towards these upland forests, + And it seems to me but prudent + That with me you take your lodging; + In the vale there stands my glebe-house, + Plain, 'tis true, yet horse and rider + Find sufficient shelter there." + + + Then the horseman quickly answered: + "Yes, I'm strange in a strange country, + And I have not much reflected + Where to-night shall be my lodging. + To be sure, in these free forests + A free heart can sleep if need be; + But your courteous invitation + I most gratefully accept." + + + Then unfastened he his horse and + Led it gently by the bridle, + And the Pastor and the rider + Like old friends walked to the village + In the twilight of the evening. + By the window of the glebe-house + The old cook stood, looking serious; + Mournfully her hands she lifted, + Took a pinch of snuff and cried out: + "Good St. Agnes! good St. Agnes! + Stand by me in this my trouble! + Thoughtlessly my kind old master + Brings again a guest to stay here; + What a thorough devastation + Will he make in my good larder! + Now farewell, you lovely brook-trout, + Which I had reserved for Sunday, + When the Dean of Wehr will dine here. + Now farewell, thou hough of bacon! + The old clucking hen, I fear much, + Also now must fall a victim, + And the stranger's hungry horse will + Revel in our store of oats." + + + + + SECOND PART. + + YOUNG WERNER WITH THE SCHWARZWALD PASTOR. + + + Snugly in the well-warmed chamber, + Now before the supper table, + Sat the Trumpeter and Pastor, + On the dish, right hot and steaming + Had a roasted fowl paraded, + But it had completely vanished; + Only now a spicy fragrance + Floated gently through the chamber, + Like the songs by which the minstrel + Still lives on through after ages; + And the empty plates bore witness + That a great and healthy hunger + Lately here had been appeased. + + + Now the Pastor raised a brimming + Jug of wine, then filled the glasses + And began, his guest accosting: + "After supper 'tis the duty + Of the host, his guest to question: + Who he is, from whence he cometh? + Where his country and his parents? + In old Homer I have read oft + That the King of the Phæacians + Thus the noble hero questioned; + And I hope you can relate me + Just as many strange adventures + As Ulysses. Take your comfort, + Seat yourself in that warm corner, + Yonder by the stove, which is a + Hatching nest of solid thinking; + 'Tis according to our custom + The narrator's seat of honour. + And I'll listen with attention. + Still the old man hears with pleasure + Of the storms of youth's wild passions." + + + Then the young man: "I am sorry + Not to be a proven hero, + Neither have I conquered Ilium, + Nor have blinded Polyphemus, + Neither have I ever thus far + Met with any Royal Princess, + Who when spreading out the linen + Felt for me a soft compassion. + But with pleasure I obey you." + On the bench he took his seat now + By the stove all covered over + With glazed tiles much ornamented. + From the stove streamed out warm comfort, + And the Pastor kindly told him + To stretch out his weary legs there. + He, however, would not do so; + Took a swallow of the red wine, + And began to tell his story: + + + "Know, my name is Werner Kirchhof; + I was born and grew to manhood, + In the Pfalz, at Heidelberg." + + + Old Heidelberg, thou beauty. + With many honours crowned; + Along the Rhine and Neckar, + No town like thee is found. + + + Thou town of merry fellows, + Of wisdom full and wine, + Clear flows thy placid river, + Blue eyes therein do shine. + + + When from the south is spreading + Spring's smile o'er hill and lea, + He out of blossoms weaveth + A bridal robe for thee. + + + Thee as a bride I fondly + Enshrine within my heart; + Like early love's sweet echoes, + Thy name doth joy impart. + + + Become life's cares too burning, + And all abroad looks bare, + I'll spur my good horse homeward + To the Neckar vale so fair. + + + "On the borders of the Neckar + I have dreamt sweet dreams of childhood, + Also have a school attended, + Greek and Latin there have studied; + And a thirsty old musician + Taught me how to blow the trumpet. + When I reached my eighteenth birthday, + Said my guardian: 'You, young Werner, + With a clever head are gifted, + And are somewhat of a genius, + And cut out of right material; + You must now become a lawyer. + That brings office and great honours, + Gathers also golden ducats. + And already I do see you + As the well-appointed bailiff + Of His Grace the Grand Elector; + And I then must pay you homage. + I will venture the prediction, + If you act quite circumspectly, + Then a seat may yet await you + In th' Imperial Court at Wetzlar.' + Thus I then became a lawyer; + Bought myself a great big inkstand, + Also bought a huge portfolio, + And a heavy Corpus Juris, + And the lecture-room frequented, + Where, with yellow mummy visage, + Samuel Brunnquell, the professor, + Roman law to us expounded. + Roman law, when I recall it, + On my heart it lies like nightmare, + Like a millstone on my stomach, + And my head feels dull and stupid. + To much nonsense did I listen, + How they in the Roman Forum + Snarling, quarrelled with each other; + How Sir Gaius stuck to his point, + And to his Sir Ulpianus; + How then later comers dabbled. + Till the Emperor Justinianus, + He of all the greatest dabbler, + Sent them home about their business. + And I often asked the question: + 'Must it really be our fate then + These dry bones to gnaw forever, + Which were flung to us as remnants + From their banquets by the Romans? + Why should not, from soil Germanic, + Spring the flower of her own law, + Simple, full of forest fragrance-- + No luxuriant southern climber? + Sad fate of the late-born races! + Must read till their brows are sweating, + And must try to disentangle + Knotty twisted skeins forever. + Can't we have a sword to cut them?' + + + "Often, nightly, by the lamp-light + I sat poring o'er the Codex, + Read the Glossary and Cujacius + Till my weary brain was racking; + But this zeal brought me no blessing. + Merrily would then my thoughts fly + From my studies to that time when + Old Cujacius' lovely daughter + Mounted in her father's rostrum, + With her voice sweet and melodious, + Read for him his written lectures + To the lucky youth of Paris. + Usucaption and inheritance, + And Novella hundred and eighteen, + Changed into a dark-haired maiden + Peeping from the Corpus Juris. + From my trembling hands the pen fell, + Overturned were sand and inkstand, + And I caught hold of the trumpet: + Usucaption and inheritance, + And Novella hundred and eighteen, + Wailing in adagio tempo. + Flew forth from the study window + Far into the starry night. + + + "Yes, this zeal brought me no blessing. + I one day went from my lodging, + 'Neath my arm the Corpus Juris + ('Twas the Elzevir edition, + Which at Rotterdam was published) + To the Heugass', to the pawn-house, + Where the Jew, Levi Ben Machol, + With his squinting eyes rapacious, + Took it in his arms paternal, + Paid me then two golden ducats-- + Someone else may now redeem it! + I became a saucy fellow, + Wandered much o'er hill and valley + Clinking spurs and serenading. + If I ever caught one sneering, + Quickly grasped my hand the rapier: + 'Fight a duel! draw your weapons! + Now advance!' That whistled nicely + Through the air; on many smooth cheeks + Wrote my sword so sharp and steady + A memento everlasting. + I, however, must confess here, + That I did not choose the finest + Company to wander round with. + What I liked, was to sit drinking + Up in the Elector's Castle, + By our age's greatest marvel + Which the German mind has wrought out, + By the tun of Heidelberg. + A most worthy hermit dwelt there, + Who was the Elector's court fool, + Was my dear old friend Perkéo; + Who had out of life's wild whirlpool + Peacefully withdrawn himself where + He could meditate while drinking, + And the cellar was his refuge. + Here he lived, his care dividing + 'Twixt himself and the big wine-tun; + And he loved it--truer friendship + Never has the world yet witnessed; + 'Twas as if it were his bride. + With a broom he swept it shining, + Chased away the ugly spiders, + And whenever came a feast-day, + Hung it o'er with wreaths of ivy; + Sang to it the morning greeting, + Also sang the song of evening, + And he carved in wood the image + Of himself as his best offering. + But when sipping his reward then + From the big tun's mouth with kisses, + Forth he launched in flights of fancy. + Often at his feet I listened + To his odd and comic speeches: + 'There above, they call me foolish, + Let them gossip, my dear fellow, + Gossip never doth annoy me. + Oh, the world has grown quite stupid! + How they grope, and how they stumble, + Over paths, to find what Truth is; + Still in fog they are enveloped. + To the first cause of all being + We must needs go back, and bring the + Last result of our researches + In a concrete form together. + Thus we comprehend the world well; + For this purpose I am drinking + Truly cosmogonically. + Mundane space to me is nothing + But a roomy vaulted cellar, + Where as first and central wine-tun, + Firmly stands the sun erected! + Next to him the rank and file of + Smaller casks, fixed stars and planets. + As the divers casks are holding + Wines of various sorts and flavours, + So comprise the heavenly bodies + Various spiritual natures. + Land-wine this--that Rüdesheimer; + But the earth-cask holds a mixture; + Fermentation has half clouded + And half volatilised the spirit + The antagony of matter + And of spirit is, by thinking, + Blended into higher union. + Thus soars my creative genius + Far on high, while I am drinking. + And when through my brain are rushing + Revelations from the wine-fumes, + And when then my feeble body + Tottering sinks down by the wine-tun, + 'Tis the triumph of the spirit, + 'Tis the act of self-deliverance + From the narrow bounds of being. + Thus my solitude doth teach me + Nature's everlasting system. + With mankind it would be better, + Had the great Germanic race but + Understood their high vocation, + And throughout the world had carried + High the standard of the wine-cask, + Made of drinking a devotion-- + As the Persians worship fire!' + O Perkéo! better were it + Now with me, if to thy wisdom + I had never, never listened! + 'Twas a sharp cold winter morning, + When down in the cosy cellar + We were taking a potation, + Talking philosophically; + But when I stepped out at midday, + The whole world and everybody + Looked most strangely queer and funny. + Rosy hues lit up all Nature, + Angel-voices I heard plainly. + On the balcony of the castle + Stood surrounded by her ladies, + Full of grace, of all the fairest, + The Electress Leonora, + Up to her start my bold glances, + Up to her my daring longing; + Clouded was my understanding. + Quickly I approached the terrace + And began to sing the wild air + Which the Palsgrave Frederic once sang, + As a love-sick serenader, + To his lovely English bride." + + + I kneel to thee as thy faithful true knight, + Fair Princess, of women the pearl! + Command, and I fight the Emperor's host, + Command, and I hold the most dangerous post, + To atoms the world I will hurl. + + + I'll fetch thee from Heaven the sun and the moon. + Fair Princess, of women the crown! + I'll fetch countless stars from yon azure height, + Spit them like frogs on my spear sharp and bright, + And low at your feet lay them down. + + + Command, I will even become a fool, + Fair Princess, of women the prize! + Indeed, I am one already I see, + The light is far too dazzling for me, + Which streams from thy sunny blue eyes. + + * * * * * * * + + "Do you hear the trumpets blowing? + Do you hear the cannon roaring? + There, near Prague, at Weissenberg, now + For Bohemia's throne they're fighting. + Palsgrave, 'twas a short sad winter! + Palsgrave, thou wast sore defeated! + Spur thy horse and seek a refuge! + + + "O thou fairest of all women, + From my dream what an awaking! + For there came to me the Beadle, + Summoned me before the Rector. + Grimly wrinkled he his forehead, + Wild with rage his locks were shaking; + Sternly he pronounced my sentence-- + His Magnificence the Rector: + 'For your unpermitted blowing, + For your unpermitted sing-song + In the Castle's sacred precincts, + You must quit the town and college + In three days; by special favour + Of our gracious sovereign princess, + Further punishment is spared.' + + + "Leave the town now--was I dreaming? + No, it was a fact well founded. + But before I left the city, + All my debts I fully settled, + In such cases quite unusual; + And I rode on the third morning + Out of Heidelberg; the fourth day + Out of the Elector's country + Unoffended; though my home had + Thrust me out--the bolts drawn on me-- + Yet I will not cease to love her. + And the trumpet, cause of mischief, + I hung gaily on my shoulder. + And I augur it shall yet peal + Joyful tunes to help me onward. + I don't know now to what haven + Horse and tempest may yet bear me, + Still I look not backward more. + Cheerful heart and courage daring + Knows no sorrow, nor despairing, + Fortune has good luck in store. + Thus I came into the Schwarzwald.-- + My kind host, pray tell me frankly + Whether my long tale has made you + Feel a heavy sleep approaching. + But if not, I'll be most grateful + If you'll give me some advice." + + + Smiling rang the good old Pastor + Glass to glass, and smiling said he: + "Your tale has a lucky ending. + I remember quite another, + Of a young and handsome carpenter, + And a Margravine's allurements. + But it ended on the gallows. + In this case, I am much puzzled + How to give you good advice. + In my code it is not written + How to counsel such a person, + Who with songs insults fair ladies, + Leaves his law books in the pawn-house, + With his trumpet loudly bloweth + To himself a rosy future. + But when human knowledge faileth, + Heaven graciously doth help us. + Way down in the forest-city, + There in Säkkingen is a worthy + Patron saint of all young people, + Is the holy Fridolinus, + And to-morrow is his feast-day. + Never has he yet forsaken + Him who prays for help in trouble; + Therefore ask Saint Fridolinus." + + + + + THIRD PART. + + ST. FRIDOLIN'S DAY. + + + Lo! a ship comes o'er the ocean, + Near Franconia's coast approaching, + Foreign sails and foreign pendant. + At the rudder sits a pale man, + Clad in black and monkish robes. + Hollow, like a mournful wailing, + Sounds the strange speech of the pilgrims, + Sound their prayers, and cries of sailors. + 'Tis the ancient Celtic language + From the Emerald Isle of Erin; + And the vessel bears the pious + Missionary Fridolinus. + "Cease thy grieving, dearest mother; + Not with sword nor with the war-axe + Shall thy son gain fame and honour: + Other ages, other weapons-- + Faith and Love are my sole armour. + For the love I bear my Saviour + I go forth unto the heathen; + Celtic blood impels me onward. + And in dreams I've seen a vision-- + A strange land and pine-clad mountains, + A clear stream with a green island, + Most as fair as my own country; + Thither points the Lord His finger, + Thither sails now Fridolinus." + + + With a few choice Irish comrades, + Filled with earnest, calm devotion, + Fridolin sailed o'er the ocean; + Came into the Frankish Empire, + Where at Paris reigned King Clovis. + Smiling spake he to the pilgrims: + "I had never great affection + For the saints and monkish orders; + Since, however, the accursèd + Allemanic lances whistled + Nearer me than I thought pleasant + On the battlefield of Zulpich, + I have changed my mind entirely-- + Even kings will pray in danger. + Where you wander I'll protect you. + And unto your special notice + Recommend the Allemanni: + They are stubborn and thick-headed, + They are still most dogged heathen; + Try to make them good and pious." + Farther on the little band went, + To the land of the Helvetians; + There began their serious labour, + And the holy cross was planted + At the foot of snow-clad Säntis, + Planted by the Bodensee. + When descending from the Jura + Fridolinus saw the ruins + Of Augusta Rauracorum-- + Roman walls--there still projected + From the rubbish mighty columns + Of the Temple of Serapis. + But the Altar and the Cella + Were o'ergrown with tangled brambles; + And the ox-head of Serapis + Had been built in o'er the stable + By an Allemanic peasant, + Whose forefathers had most likely + Killed the last priest of Serapis. + + + Seeing this then, Fridolinus + Crossed himself and travelled onward, + By the green banks of the river. + Evening came, and far already + Had the pious man now wandered. + There beheld he, how the river + Flowed in two divided branches; + And in the green waters smiling + Rose before him a small island, + Sack like lying in the river. + (Hence the peasants, who are never + Over squeamish in comparing, + Called the isle Sacconium.) + Evening came; the larks were singing + Fish sprang snapping from the water; + Through the heart of Fridolinus + Thrilled a thankful pious gladness. + On his knees he sank down praying, + For he recognised the island + As the vision of his dreaming-- + And he praised the Lord in Heaven. + + + Oft, 'tis true, have many of us + Mortals in these modern ages + Also dreamt of tranquil islands, + Where we happily might nestle, + And the weary heart refresh with + Forest calm and Sabbath quiet. + Many also go with ardent + Longing on the journey, but when + Nearing as they hope their island, + Suddenly it fades before them, + As in southern climes the airy + Image of the fay Morgana. + + + Full of wonder, a wild native + Sculled the stranger to the island, + On a raft made of rough pine logs. + Wild the island: limes and alders + In low marshes here were growing; + On the shore with pebbles covered, + Also stood huge ancient willows; + And some scattered huts with thatched roofs. + Here in summer, when the salmon + Are migrating up the river, + Eager fishermen stand waiting + With their long sharp pikes to spear them. + Unremitting to his labour + Went the saint--soon stood his log-house + On the solid ground erected; + Near the house the cross he planted. + When the bell at dusk of evening + Rang out far, Ave Maria! + And he prayed devoutly kneeling; + From the Rhine vale, many people + Timidly looked at the island. + + + Fierce and stubborn were these Almains. + Once the Roman gods they hated; + Now Franconia's God they hated, + Who at Zulpich, like a tempest, + Had o'erthrown their mighty host. + When the lazy master idly + Took his rest on winter evenings, + And, with eager zest, the women + Set their tongues in busy motion, + And of this and that they gossiped-- + How the jug of milk had curdled, + How the hut was struck by lightning, + How a youth was badly injured + By a boar's sharp tusk when hunting-- + Then in warning spoke the crafty + Aged Allemanic grandam: + "No one else have we to blame but + Him who dwells on yonder island-- + That old pallid, praying stranger. + Trust ye not, I pray, the new God + Of the Franks, nor false King Clovis!" + And they feared the pious stranger. + Once, upon the summer solstice, + They all came unto his island, + Drank there--after ancient custom-- + Mead from their enormous tankards; + And they tried to seize the stranger, + But he had gone down the river. + "We will leave this pallid man, then, + Tokens that we've held our feast here!" + Soon some lighted brands were flying + In the hut of Fridolinus; + And they sprang rejoicing through the + Flames in singing, "Praised be Woden!" + From the distance gazed with pleasure + The old grandam, and her face shone + Ghastly in the lurid light. + + + Fridolinus, when returning, + Saw his hut laid waste in ashes; + And he said, then smiling sadly: + "Lord, I thank thee for these trials, + As they but increase my courage." + Then he built anew his dwelling, + And soon found an entrance open + To the rough hearts of his neighbours. + First the children, then the women, + Listened to his gentle language; + And some of the stubborn fellows + Looked approval, when he showed them + How in Erin, his own country, + They could spear the salmon better; + When he sang them ancient legends-- + How, upon the Caledonian + Cliffs, had raged a mighty battle + With the Romans; and how Fingal + Overthrew young Caracalla. + Then they said: "A strong and mighty + God has sent this man here to us; + And a good God, for this stranger + Bringeth blessing on our fishing." + And in vain the grandam warned them: + "Trust ye not, I pray, the new God + Of the Franks and false King Clovis!" + + + Yes, he touched these hearts so rugged + Taught to them the Christian doctrine; + And they understood that giving + Is more blessed than receiving; + That it was the Son of God who + On the cross for men did suffer. + Hardly had a year passed over-- + 'Twas Palm-Sunday--when descended, + From the slopes of all the mountains, + A great throng, who then rowed over + To the isle of Fridolinus. + Peacefully there on the island, + Sword, and shield, and axe they laid down; + And the children gaily gathered + For themselves the willow blossoms + And sweet violets by the river. + From his hut came Fridolinus, + Fully robed in priestly vestments; + By his side walked his companions + Who had come from distant places: + Gallas from Helvetia; also + From the Bodensee Columban. + And they led down to the shore then + The great throng of the converted, + And baptised them in the name of + Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. + + + She alone did not come with them + To the isle of Fridolinus, + She the old and stubborn grandam; + And she said: "No new gods need I, + As my life is fast declining. + I'm contented with the old ones, + Who to me are kind and gracious, + Who once gave me my dear husband-- + My good, noble Siegebert. + When'er Death from here should take me, + I could never hope to find him; + And for him my heart is yearning. + In the woods I must be buried, + Where the mandrake grows 'neath fir-trees + Which with mistletoe are covered. + I don't wish a cross on my grave, + Shall not envy it to others." + On that very day, however, + Fridolin laid the foundations + Of the cloister and the city; + And his work waxed ever greater, + And afar throughout the country + Was the holy man revered. + When again he paid a visit + To King Clovis' court, in Paris, + On his right the king did place him, + And then solemnly donated + The whole island to his cloister, + And, besides, large tracts of country; + Even a great saint became he. + Have ye never heard the legend + Of the court-day, and Count Ursus, + Which the statues o'er the church door + Have preserved e'en to the present? + A great saint, indeed, became he, + And is still the Rhineland's patron. + To this day prevails the custom + That the peasants have their first-born + By the name of Fridli christened. + + * * * * + + On the sixth of March young Werner + Gaily parted from the glebe-house; + Gratefully he shook the hand of + The good pastor, who sincerely + Wished him a most pleasant journey. + And the old cook was completely + Reconciled unto the stranger; + Bashfully she cast her eyes down + To the ground, while deeply blushing, + When young Werner, out of mischief, + Kissed his hand to her, when leaving. + Barking ran the two St. Bernards + A long distance with our rider. + + + Bright and warm the sun was shining + On the town of Fridolinus; + Solemn peals afar resounded, + From the organ of the minster, + As young Werner through the gate rode. + Quickly found he first good shelter + For his horse, and then he walked on + To the crowded lively market, + Went up to the old Cathedral, + And he stood with head uncovered + By the portal, where was passing + Then the festive long procession. + + + Through the war the precious relics + Of the Saint had been well hidden + In old Laufenburg's strong castle. + They had often in the city + Missed their presence with much sorrow. + Now that peace once more was settled, + They were striving with fresh ardour + To do honour to their saint. + At the head of the procession + Came gay troops of merry children. + But when they too loudly prattled, + Then their old and gray-haired teacher + Pulled them by the ear and scolded: + "Keep quite still, my little people! + Take great care, for Fridolinus + May be listening to your gabbling. + He, a Saint severe and holy, + Will complain of you in Heaven." + Twelve young men came next, who bore the + Coffin, rich with gold and silver, + Which enclosed the Saint's remains. + Bearing it they chanted softly: + + + Thou who dwellest high in Heaven, + Bless thy people and thy city, + Stretch o'er us thy arms of mercy, + Fridolinus, Fridolinus! + Grant us further thy protection; + From all danger mayst thou guard us, + War and pestilence keep from us, + Fridolinus, Fridolinus! + + + Then the Dean and all the Chaplains + Followed after--bearing tapers + Came the youthful Burgomaster, + Came the town's wise Corporation + And the other dignitaries: + Bailiff, Revenue-receiver, + Syndic, Notary, Attorney, + And the old Chief Ranger also. + (He came only for decorum, + For with Mother Church and Saints' Days + He was not upon good footing, + Prayed much rather in the forest.) + E'en the Messenger and Sergeant + Did not then, as was their custom, + Take a morning draught together, + But joined gravely the procession. + Then in dusky Spanish mantles, + Ornamented with white crosses, + Came the great Teutonic Order, + All the Knights and their Commander. + Down the river stood in Beuggen + The Teutonic Order's Castle + Whence at early dawn of morning + All these knights had come on horseback. + + + Then came black-robed, grave and aged, + Noble ladies of the Convent, + And in front by the blue standard + Walked the aged Lady Abbess, + And her thoughts were: "Fridolinus, + Though thou art so full of kindness, + One thing thou canst ne'er restore me, + 'Tis my youth, so fair and golden. + It was charming fifty years since, + When my cheeks were red like roses, + And when many knights were captured + In the meshes of my glances! + Long have I done penance for this, + And I hope it is forgiven. + Deeply wrinkled is my forehead, + While the cheeks and lips are faded. + And the sunken mouth is toothless." + + + Next the train of noble ladies + Came the burghers' comely housewives, + At the end the elder matrons. + Only one in work-day garments + Kept aloof from the procession, + 'Twas the hostess from the ancient + Tavern of the "Golden Button;" + So demanded ancient custom. + There--so learn we from the legend-- + Stood once in those heathen ages + An old tavern; Fridolinus, + When he first upon the island + Set his foot, had there sought shelter; + But the landlord, a rude heathen, + Spoke unto the holy man thus: + "All you priests are good for nothing, + But to vilify our old gods; + And you seldom carry even + One red farthing in your pocket. + So begone from off my threshold!" + Now the purse of Fridolinus + Had indeed but little in it, + And he had to take his night's rest + Underneath the shady lindens + In the meadow. But the angels + Cared well for him, and he found out, + On awaking, that his purse was + Filled with golden Roman pieces. + Then again the Saint did visit + The inhospitable tavern, + Took a meal, and paid in shining + Money what the host demanded; + And to shame him left moreover + Seven gold coins as a present. + Thus for an eternal warning + To all landlords void of pity, + Although ages had elapsed since, + No one from the "Golden Button" + Could join in the Saint's procession. + + + As the flowers in the mown field + Gaily bloom 'mid dried up stubble, + So close by the elder matrons + Walked the lovely group of maidens, + Clad in snow-white festive garments. + Many old men, as they saw them + Passing by in youthful beauty, + Thought: "Upon our guard we must be, + For these maidens are as dangerous + As a Swedish regiment." + In the front they bore a statue + Of Our Lady, dress'd most richly, + In a purple velvet garment, + Which they had presented to her, + As a grateful holy offering, + When the weary war was ended. + In that lovely file the fourth one + Was a slender, light-haired maiden; + On her curls, a wreath of violets, + Over which the white veil floated, + And it covered half her features, + Like the hoar-frost in the Spring-time + Glistening on the early rosebud. + With her eyes cast down she passed by + Where young Werner now was standing. + He beheld her. Had the sun then + Blinded suddenly his eyesight, + Or the fair young maiden's beauty? + + + Although others still came past him, + Rooted to the spot he stood there, + Looking only at the fourth one, + Gazed, and gazed; when the procession + Turned the corner of a side street + Still he gazed, as if the fourth one + In the file he must discover. + "He is caught!" so goes the saying + In that country, when one's soul is + By the wand of love enchanted; + Love can never be our captive, + We are wholly conquered by him. + So beware, my young friend Werner! + Joy and sorrow hides the saying: + "He is caught!" I need not say more. + + + + + FOURTH PART. + + YOUNG WERNER'S ADVENTURES ON THE RHINE. + + + Mirth now reigned within the city. + Those who early had united + In the honoured Saint's procession, + Now sat, equally united, + Drinking the good wine before them, + Or the golden foaming beer. + Corks were popping, glasses ringing; + Many huge and mighty goblets + By the guests were emptied quickly, + In St Fridolinus' honour. + Simpering with delight, the landlord + Counted all the empty barrels, + And, with a devout expression, + Chalked them all upon the blackboard. + From the inn outside the gate, which + By the peasants was frequented, + Came gay music; for, with legs crossed, + There sat, playing on his fiddle, + Schwefelhans, the violinist; + And in wild and boisterous dances + Were the Hauenstein young peasants + Twirling round their buxom partners. + Groaning was the floor, and shaking + 'Neath their feet and heavy stamping, + From the walls the plaster falling, + So uproarious was their shouting. + From afar, with turned-up noses, + Many dandies looked on sneering; + Yet, within themselves were thinking: + "Better, after all, than nothing." + + + The sedate and older people + Sat together in the tap-room. + As their ancestors delighted + To get drunk in Woden's honour, + So, in true historic spirit. + They for Fridolin got tipsy. + Many troubled faithful consorts + Pulled their husbands by the coat-tail, + When the second and the third piece + Of hard money here was squandered; + But the husband said quite coolly: + "Dearest wife, control thy humour, + For to-day all must be spent here!" + And he left not till the watchman + With the halberd came and ordered + That 'twas time to close the tavern. + With uncertain steps, ill-humoured, + To his mountain-home he totters: + And the silent night is witness + Of some sudden headlong tumbles. + But she covers them with darkness-- + Kindly--as she does the beating + Which, as finish to the feasting, + He bestows on his poor consort. + + + Lonely, far-off from the bustle, + Walked young Werner toward the Rhine-strand, + Without thinking where he wandered. + Still before his eyes there hovered + Those sweet features of the maiden + Which he had beheld that morning, + But now seemed a dream's fair vision. + Burning was his brow; his eyes now + Restlessly strayed up to heaven, + Then he cast them meekly downward, + As if asking where to find her; + And he did not mind the north wind, + Which his locks dishevelled sadly. + Through his heart hot glowing thoughts ran + Wildly chasing one another, + Like the mist, which in the autumn + Moves around the tops of mountains + In most oddly-changing shapes; + And it rang and surged within him, + Like the first germ of a poem + Growing in the mind's recesses. + + + Also, thus, in bygone ages, + By the Arno strolled another + Child of man, plunged in deep musing; + And he also blew the trumpet, + Which, like that of the last judgment, + Rang aloud, in piercing notes, through + His benighted rotten age. + But when he, upon that feast-day, + First beheld the wondrous maiden + Who his leading star through life was, + And to Paradise did lead him; + He then wandered by the river, + Under shady oaks and myrtles; + And, for all the joyful feelings + Which within his heart were ringing, + He could only find the utterance: + "Beatricè! Beatricè!" + And thus, after many thousand + And still thousand years have rolled by, + Others, who with love are stricken, + Dreamily will walk the same way. + And whenever the last scion + Of the Germans on the Rhine-shore + Has been gathered to his fathers, + Then will others walk and muse there, + And in gentle foreign language + Murmur the sweet words: "I love thee!" + Do you know them? They have noses + Somewhat flattened out and ugly; + By the Aral and the Irtish, + Now their ancestors drink whisky, + But to them belongs the future. + + + Youthful love, thou pearl so precious, + To the wounded heart a balsam, + To life's tossing ship an anchor, + Oasis in sandy deserts; + Never would I venture singing + Any new song to thy honour. + I'm one of the Epigoni; + And great hosts of valiant people + Lived before King Agamemnon. + I know also wise King Solomon, + And the petty German poets. + Bashful only, and most grateful, + I recall thy gentle magic. + As a golden light it shineth + Through the mists of youth, and clearly + To our view unveils life's outlines; + Shows us where to plant our footsteps, + And gives courage to the wanderer. + Lofty hopes and timid longing, + Dauntless thoughts and stubborn courage, + All these do we owe to Love; + And the cheerful heart that helps us, + Like a mountain-staff, to spring o'er + Rocks which lie upon our pathway. + + + Happy, therefore, is the heart which + Love triumphantly has entered! + But young Werner seemed unconscious + Why he thus to-day was strolling + Idly here along the river. + Dreamily he walked close by it, + Heedless of the waves which often + Gave his boots a thorough wetting. + + + From the river's depths gazed at him + Then the Rhine, who just the battle + Of two aged crabs was watching, + And with noisy, ringing laughter, + Nodded praises, when in rage they + Crossed their horny claws together. + Yes, the Rhine--he is a handsome + Youthful man, and not alone a + Geographical conception-- + For young Werner he felt pity. + Rustling rose he from the water, + In his locks a wreath of rushes, + And a reed-staff in his right hand. + Werner, like all Sunday children, + Saw much more than other mortals; + So he quickly recognised him, + And made him a low obeisance. + + + Smiling then to him the Rhine said: + "Have no fear, my dear young dreamer, + For I know where thy shoe pinches. + Ye are strange and odd, ye mortals; + Ye believe ye bear a secret + Through the world in lonely musing, + And each chafer understands it; + E'en the gnats and the mosquitoes + See it on your heated foreheads, + See it in your tearful glances, + That Love holds you in his meshes. + Have no fear, I know what love is; + I have heard upon my journeys + Many false and many true vows + Whispered in Romansh and German, + Also in the Low Dutch language + (In the last oft most insipid). + Nightly likewise have I listened + Near the shores to much flirtation + And much kissing, yet kept silent. + Many a poor devil also, + In whose heart deep grief was gnawing, + In my waves found peace and comfort. + When the water-nymphs had gently + Lulled him there to sleep, I bore him + Off with care to shores far distant. + Under willows, under rushes, + Far from tongues of deadly malice, + Rest is sweet to false Love's victims. + Many thus have I so buried; + I have also harboured many + On the river's deep cool bottom + In my crystal water-palace; + Lodged them well so that they never + Longed for man, nor for returning. + + + "Have no fear, I know what love is. + I myself feel something tightening + Round my heart, when I the Schwarzwald's + Mountains greet, and jump rejoicing + O'er Schaffhausen's precipices, + Force my way with courage, rushing + Through the straits of Laufenburg. + For I know that soon my lovely + Schwarzwald child, the youthful Wiese, + Comes to meet me, bashful, timid; + And she prattles, in the rough speech + Of the Almains, of the Feldberg, + Of the ghosts beheld at midnight, + Of sweet mountain flowers, and huge + Caps and thirsty throats at Schopfheim. + Yes, I love her, I have never + Gazed enough at her blue eyes yet. + Yes, I love her, I have never + Kissed enough her rosy cheeks yet. + Oft I rush, like thee, a dreamer, + Wildly past old sober Basel, + Get quite tired of the tedious + Old town-councillors, and ruin + Now and then a wall in passing. + And they think, it was in anger, + What was only done in frolic. + Yes, I love her. Many other + Charming women much pursue me; + None, however,--e'en the stately, + Richly vine-clad, blue-eyed Mosel-- + Ever from my heart can banish + Thee, the Feldberg's lovely daughter. + When I through the sands of Holland + Weary drag my sluggish waters, + And I hear the wind-mills clapper, + Tender longings oft steal o'er me + For my early lovely sweetheart. + Then with deep dull sound my waves roll + Onward through the tedious meadows, + Roll out far into the North Sea, + But not one there understands me. + + + "Have no fear; I know what love is. + Ye I know, ye German dreamers + Who on my fair shores are dwelling. + I, indeed, am your true likeness, + Am the history of your nation; + Storm and passion, bitter ending, + All are pictured in my course. + Most romantic is my birthplace, + And weird Alpine spirits watched well + By my glittering icy cradle, + And conducted me to daylight. + Strong and wild was I in childhood; + Never can the rocks be counted, + Which I roaring dashed to pieces, + And hurled up like balls at tennis. + Fresh and gay I then float onward, + Through the Swabian sea, and carry, + Unimpaired, my youthful powers + Farther to the German country. + And once more come up before me + All the fragrant recollections + Of romance; my youthful dreaming + Sweetly then returns transfigured: + Foam and surging, strong-walled cities, + Rocks and castles, quiet cloisters, + Smiling vineyards on the hillside; + From the tower calls the watchman, + And the pennon gaily flutters, + And from yonder cliff is ringing + Wondrously the Lurley's song. + But, alas! the good time passes; + Nought but grief is then my portion; + I devote myself to drinking, + Pray at Cöln in the Cathedral, + And become a beast of burden. + Shabby tradesmen must I serve then, + On my ill-used back must carry + All the Dutchman's clumsy tow-boats. + In the sand, to me so hateful, + Wearily my way I drag on, + And I've long been dead already, + Ere my grave, the sea, receives me. + So beware of such stagnation! + + + "Yes, I can much more relate thee; + I to-day am in good humour, + And I love all jovial fellows, + Who like thee and like myself face, + Gaily with light hearts, the Future. + But I'll end this long discourse now, + And will give thee my best counsel. + I know well that thou art love-struck, + Know, thou lovest Margaretta, + The old Baron's lovely daughter, + Whose old castle standing yonder + Is in my green waves reflected. + Oft I see with joy the maiden + Standing there upon the terrace, + And I'll gladly take thee near her. + There's the boat and there's the rudder; + All the rest may well be trusted + To thy own instinctive wisdom." + Saying this, he shook his locks, and + Dived beneath the water's surface; + And the foaming surging waves then + Closed the whirlpool where he vanished. + And afar rang out his laughter, + For, the battle of the crab had + Ended now, one lay there bleeding, + Of the tail bereft the other. + + + Werner did as he was counselled. + An old tower was there standing + By the shore, half in the river; + And where through a secret wicket + To the strand came down the fisher, + Was a quiet hidden inlet, + Where lay boat and rudder ready. + As the boatman kept the feast-day, + So without permission Werner + Took possession of the boat there. + In the meantime evening crept on: + Here and there rang from the mountains + Clear and sharp, a shouting from some + Tipsy peasant going homeward. + O'er those distant pine-tree forests + Streamed the moonlight through the valley; + Bashfully some stars already + From the clear blue sky were peeping. + From the shore shoved off young Werner. + As a horse, when in his stable + Long imprisoned, gaily prances, + Neighs with joy, when he can carry + Through the fields again his master: + So shot boldly swiftly downward, + On the water gaily bounding, + The light boat, and speeding onward + Passed the walls of the old city. + Soon it gained the ancient Rhine bridge, + Which with timber-covered arches + Boldly spans from shore to shore. + And courageously young Werner + Steered right through below the third pier, + Laughing, when, as if to vex him, + Three times up and three times downward + Danced his boat, seized by the whirlpool + Soon he now beheld the castle + With its gable-roofs and turrets, + Shining through the lofty chestnuts, + All illumined by the moonlight. + Yonder rose up from the river + By the shore a bank of gravel, + Bare and barren; it was often + Flooded over by the river. + Out of fun the country people + Called it field of Fridolinus. + Thither now the frail boat drifted; + There it halted on the shelving + Pebbly ground. Out jumped young Werner, + And he looked with eager glances + Whether he could not descry her. + He could only see a distant + Twinkling light up in the turret; + But this wholly satisfied him. + Often doth a distant vision + More delight bestow upon us + Than the fulness of possession; + Hence our Song dwells on his pleasure, + As he stands there on the sand-bank + At that light in rapture gazing. + Spread before his dreamy eyes lay + Rosy visions of the future; + Neither sun nor stars shone in them, + Nothing but that light's faint glimmer. + From the turret, where it flickered, + Love flew forth, on rapid pinions, + Noiselessly to him descended, + And unseen stood there beside him + On the field of Fridolinus; + And he handed him the trumpet + Which from Werner's neck was hanging, + Saying: Blow your trumpet, blow it! + + + And he blew until his blowing + Filled with melody the night air. + In the depths the Rhine was listening, + Salmon, trout, and pike were listening, + Water-nymphs were listening also, + And the wind the ringing tones bore + To the castle tenderly. + + + + + FIFTH PART. + + THE BARON AND HIS DAUGHTER. + + + Now, my Muse, thy powers summon! + For thy path leads to the Baron + And the lovely Margaretta. + Now be circumspect and courteous; + For, an aged trooper-colonel + Might with thee and others like thee + Not be very ceremonious; + But might throw thee down the staircase, + Which is steep and very slippery, + And might prove injurious to thee. + Now, my Muse, mount upward to the + Castle gate, behold there sculptured + The three balls upon the scutcheon. + As in the armorial bearings + Of the Medici in Florence-- + Signs of ancient, noble lineage; + Now ascend the steps of sandstone, + Loudly knock at the great hall door, + Then step in and give report of + What thou there hast slyly noticed. + In the spacious, lofty knights' hall, + With its walls of panelled oak-wood. + And with rows of old ancestral + Dusty portraits decorated, + There the Baron took his comfort, + Seated in his easy arm-chair + By the cheerful blazing fire. + His mustache was gray already; + On his forehead, which a Swedish + Troopers sword had deeply scarred once, + Many wrinkles had been furrowed + Also by the hand of Time. + And a most unpleasant guest had + Taken quarters uninvited + In the left foot of the Baron. + Gout 'tis called in vulgar parlance, + But if any learnèd person + Rather podagra should call it, + I shall offer no objection; + Not the less will be its torments. + Just this day the pangs were milder, + Only now and then increasing, + When the Baron, smiling, spoke thus: + + + "Zounds! 'tis evident that in the + Long and dreadful Thirty Years' war. + E'en this plaguy gout adopted + Something of the art of tactics. + The attack begins in order; + First the skirmishers go forward, + Then the flying columns follow. + Oh, I wish the devil had them, + This whole reconnoitring party! + But not even this sufficeth. + Just as if I had a fortress + In my heart--like guns 'tis roaring. + Then it throbs like storming parties, + Piif! paif! I capitulate." + + + But just then there was a truce held. + So the Baron took his comfort + As he filled out of the stone jug + His large goblet brimming over. + Up by Hallau where the last spurs + Of the Hohe-Randen's ridges + To the Rhine are sloping downward, + Where the vintner, while at labour, + Hears the ceaseless mighty roaring + Of the Rhine-fall by Schaffhausen: + Had the sun with fervent glowing + Ripened well the spicy red wine + Which the Baron had selected + As his usual evening beverage. + And, to heighten his enjoyment, + He puffed out clouds of tobacco. + In his red and simple clay-pipe + Burned the weed from foreign countries, + Which he smoked through a long pipe-stem + Made of fragrant cherry-wood. + + + At the Baron's feet was lying + Gracefully the worthy tom-cat, + Hiddigeigei, with the coal-black + Velvet fur and mighty tail. + 'Twas an heirloom from his long-lost, + Much-beloved, and stately consort, + Leonore Monfort du Plessys. + Hiddigeigei's native country + Was Hungaria, and his mother, + Who was of the race Angora, + Bore him to a Puszta tom-cat. + In his early youth to Paris + He was sent as a fond token + Of the love of an Hungarian, + Who, though far in Debreczin, still + With due reverence had remembered + The blue eyes of Leonora, + And the rats in her old palace. + With the stately Leonora + To the Rhine came Hiddigeigei. + A true house-pet, somewhat lonesome + Did he while away his life there; + For, he hated to consort with + Any of the German cat-tribe. + "They may have," thus he was thinking + In his consequential cat-pride, + "Right good hearts, and may possess too + At the bottom some good feeling, + But 'tis polish that is wanting; + A fine culture and high breeding, + I miss sorely in these vulgar + Natives of this forest-city. + And a cat who won his knight spurs + In fair Paris, and who often + In the quarter of Montfaucon + Has enjoyed a racy rat-hunt, + Misses in this little town here + All that is to him congenial, + Any intercourse with equals." + Isolated, therefore, but still + Ever dignified and solemn + Lived he in this lonely castle. + Graceful through the halls he glided, + Most melodious was his purring; + And in fits of passion even, + When he curved his back in anger, + And his hair stood bristling backward, + Never did he fail to mingle + Dignity with graceful bearing. + But when over roof and gable + Up he softly clambered, starting + On a hunting expedition. + Then mysteriously by moonlight + His green eyes like emeralds glistened; + Then, indeed, he looked imposing + This majestic Hiddigeigei. + + + Near his cat sat the old Baron. + In his eyes were often flashes, + Now like lightning--then more softened + Like the mellow rays of sunset, + As he thought of bygone times. + To old age belongs the solace + Of recalling days of yore. + Thus the aged ne'er are lonely. + The dear shades are floating round them, + Of the dead, in quaint old garments, + Gorgeous once, now sadly faded. + But fond memory blots decay out, + And the skulls once more with beauty + Are arrayed in youthful freshness. + Then they talk of days long vanished, + And the aged heart is beating, + And the fist oft clinches tightly. + As he passes by her turret, + Once again she smiling greets him; + Once again resound the trumpets, + And the fiery charger bears him + Neighing to the throng of battle. + + + So the Baron with good humour + Of the Past review was holding-- + And, when oft he stretched his hand out, + Suddenly grasped at his goblet, + And a deep long draught then swallowed: + Probably a dear and lovely + Vision rose up bright before him. + Oft it seemed as if his memory + Clung to things which gave less pleasure; + For sometimes, without a reason, + Down there came on Hiddigeigei's + Back a kick with cruel rudeness. + And the cat thought it more prudent + Then his resting-place to alter. + + + Now into the hall stepped lightly + The old Baron's lovely daughter + Margaretta,--and her father + Nodded kindly as she entered. + Hiddigeigei's suffering face too + Showed delight as cats express it. + She had changed her festal white robe + For a garment of black velvet. + On her long and golden tresses, + A black cap sat most coquettish, + 'Neath which her blue eyes were smiling + With a matron-like expression; + To the girdle was attached the + Bunch of keys and leather-pocket, + German housewife's badge of honour. + And she kissed the Baron's forehead, + Saying: "Dear papa, don't blame me, + If to-day I kept you waiting. + The old Lady Abbess yonder + In the convent did detain me, + Told me many things of import, + Wisely of old age discoursing, + And of Time, the great destroyer. + The Commander too of Beuggen + Said such sweet things, just as if they + Came right from the comfit-maker. + I was glad, when I could leave them. + For your lordship's further pleasure + Here I am, all due attention. + I am ready, from your favourite + Theuerdank to read aloud now; + For, I know, you like the rougher + Tales of hunting and adventure, + Better than the mawkish sweetness + Of our present pastoral poets. + + + "But, O wherefore, dearest father, + Are you ever, ever smoking + This bad poisonous tobacco? + I am frightened when I see you + Sitting there in clouds enveloped + As in times of fog the Eggberg. + And I'm sorry for the gilded + Picture-frames hung on the walls there, + And the pretty snow-white curtains. + Don't you hear their low complaining, + How the smoke from your red-clay pipe + Makes them faded, gray and rusty? + 'Tis most truly a fine country, + That America which once the + Spanish admiral discovered. + I myself take great delight in + The gay plumage of the parrots, + And the pink and scarlet corals; + Dream at times also of lofty + Graceful palm-groves, lonely log-huts, + Cocoa-nuts, gigantic flowers, + And of mischievous wild monkeys. + I wish almost it were lying + In the sea still undiscovered; + All because of this tobacco + Which has been imported hither. + I can grant a man forgiveness, + Who more often than is needed + Draws his red wine from the barrel, + And could get, if necessary, + Reconciled unto his red nose; + Never to this horrid smoking." + + + Smiling had the Baron listened, + Smiling he puffed many smoke-clouds + From his clay-pipe, and then answered: + "Dearest child, you women always + Thoughtlessly do talk of many + Things beyond your comprehension. + It is true that soldiers often + Take up many evil habits, + Not adapted to the boudoir. + But my daughter finds with smoking + Too much fault; for through this habit + I have won my wife and household. + And because to-day so many + Old campaign tales through my head run, + Do not read to-night. Sit down here; + I will now relate thee something + Of this much-abused tobacco, + And of thy blest angel mother." + + + Sceptically, Margaretta + With her large blue eyes looked at him, + Took her work up to embroider, + Coloured worsted and her needle, + Moved her stool then near the Baron's + Arm-chair, and sat down beside him. + Charming picture! In the forest, + Round the knotty oak thus climbeth + The wild rose in youthful beauty. + Then the Baron at one swallow + Drank his wine, and thus related: + + + "When the wicked war was raging, + I once roved with some few German + Troopers yonder in fair Alsace; + Hans von Weerth was our good colonel. + Swedes and French laid siege to Breisach, + And their camp was all alive with + Stories of our daring ventures. + But who e'er can stand 'gainst numbers? + So one day the hounds attacked us, + Just as if wild beasts they hunted; + And at last, when bleeding freely + From the wounds their fangs inflicted, + We were forced to lay our arms down. + Afterwards the French transported + Us as prisoners to Paris, + Caged us in Vincennes' strong fortress. + 'Damn them!' said our valiant colonel, + Hans von Weerth, 'it was much nicer, + Galloping, with shining sabres + Hostile lines to charge with fury, + Than on this hard bench to sit here, + And to battle with ennui thus. + For this foe there is no weapon, + Neither wine nor even dice-box, + Nothing but tobacco. I once + Tried it in the country of the + Dull Mynheers, and here it also + Will do service; let us smoke then!' + The commander of the fortress + Got a keg of best Varinas + For us from a Dutch retailer, + Got us also well-burnt clay-pipes. + In the prisoners' room commenced now + Such a smoking, such a puffing + Of dense clouds of strong tobacco + As no mortal eyes had seen yet + In the gallant Frenchmen's country. + Full of wonder gazed our jailors, + And the news spread to the king's ears, + And the king himself in person + Came to see this latest marvel. + Soon all Paris rang with stories + Of the wild and boorish Germans, + And of their, as yet unheard of, + Truly wondrous feats in smoking. + Coaches drove up, pages sprang down, + All came to the narrow guard-room, + Cavaliers and stately ladies; + She came also, she the noble + Leonore Montfort du Plessys. + Even now I see her slight foot + Stepping on our rough bare stone-floor, + Hear her satin train still rustling, + And my soldier's heart is beating + As if in the thick of battle. + Like the smoke from the big cannons + Came the smoke out of my clay-pipe; + And 'twas well so. On the same cloud + Which I puffed there in the presence + Of the proud one, sat god Cupid, + Gaily shooting off his arrows, + And he knew well how to hit right. + Out of wonder grew deep interest, + Then the interest fast to love changed, + And the German bear appeared soon + Finer far and nobler than the + Paris lions altogether. + + + "When, at last, the gates were opened + Of our dungeon, and the herald + Brought us tidings of our freedom, + I was then still more a captive + Bound in Leonora's fetters; + And remained thus, and the wedding + Which soon took us home to Rhine-land + Only made the rivets stronger. + When I think of this, I feel that + Tears on my mustache are rolling. + For what now to me remaineth + Of the past so fair, but memory, + And the black cat, Hiddigeigei, + And my Leonora's image. + Thou my child. God give her soul rest!" + + + Speaking thus, he knocked the ashes + From his pipe, and patted gently + Hiddigeigei; but his daughter + Roguishly knelt down before him. + Saying: "Dearest father, grant me + Your entire absolution. + Never shall you hear in future + From my lips an observation + On account of this vile smoking." + + + Graciously the Baron said then: + "Thou hast also been sarcastic + At my drinking oft too freely; + And I have a mind to tell thee + Still a most instructive story, + How in Rheinau in the cloister, + As the guest of the Lord Abbot + I went through a bout of drinking + In the famous wine of Hallau. + But"--the Baron stopped and listened. + "Zounds!" he said, "what's that I hear there? + Whence doth come that trumpet-blowing?" + Werner's music through the March night, + Plaintive soared up to the castle, + Begging entrance like a pet-dove, + Which, returning to its mistress, + Finds the window closed and fastened, + And begins to peck and hammer. + To the terrace went the Baron + And his daughter; Hiddigeigei + Followed both with step majestic. + Through the cat's heart then swept omens + Of a great, eventful future. + All around they looked--but vainly. + For the turret's gloomy shadow + Covered both the bank and Werner. + Like the blowing of the moot, then + Like the clanging charge of horsemen, + Up it mounted to the terrace, + Then died out;--a small boat dimly + They saw moving up the river. + + + Backward stepped the Baron quickly, + Pulled the bell and called his servant + Anton, who came in directly. + "Gain immediate information + Who was blowing here the trumpet + On the Rhine at this late hour. + If a spirit, sign the cross thrice; + If a mortal, greet him kindly, + And command his presence hither, + For with him I must hold converse." + Soldier-like, saluting, turned then + Right about face good old Anton: + "I'll fulfil your lordship's orders." + + + Meanwhile, silently descended + Midnight over vale and city; + And in Margaretta's slumbers + Came a dream most sweet and wondrous: + As she walked to the old minster + Once again in festal garments, + Fridolinus came to meet her; + By his side there walked another, + But 'twas not the dead man who once + Followed him to Glarus court-house; + 'Twas a youth, fair, tall, and slender; + Like a trumpeter he looked, and + Greeted her with lowly reverence; + While Saint Fridolin was smiling. + + + + + SIXTH PART. + + HOW YOUNG WERNER BECAME THE BARON'S TRUMPETER. + + + Master Anton started early + The next morning for the city, + To find out that trumpet blower. + By St. Fridolin's cathedral + He turned off into a side-street. + From the other side there came with + Rapid steps the boatman Martin, + And they met just at the corner, + Bumping up against each other. + "'Pon my soul," cried out the worthy + Anton, as he rubbed his forehead; + "Your thick skull is hard as iron." + "Yours is not upholstered either + With soft wool or springy sea-weed," + Was the boatman's ready answer. + "And what business have you running + Through the city's streets thus early?" + "I can ask the same," said Anton. + "I seek someone who last evening + From the shore my boat unfastened," + Answered him the boatman Martin. + "He may be my man," said Anton. + "When I came down to the river, + There I found my boat turned over + On the shore--the rudder broken, + And the fastening cut asunder. + If a thunderstorm would only + Sweep away these wicked people, + Who like thieves at night are roving + On the Rhine in borrowed vessels." + "And the trumpet blow," said Anton.-- + "But whenever I shall find him, + To the justice I shall take him. + He must pay me; even for the + Black and blue mark which you gave me, + I shall bring a heavy reckoning. + It is shameful how this fellow + Gives me such vexation!" Thus the + Boatman scolding went on farther. + + + "And I do not see myself, why + I should take such extra trouble + To hunt up this mischief-maker," + Said old Anton to himself then. + "Seems to me it is already + Just the time when honest people + For their morning draught are longing." + + + To the "Golden Button's" shady + Tap-room turned the worthy Anton + Now his steps, and through a side-door + In he stepped: he deemed it wiser + Thus to hide before the public + Such an early morning visit. + Many worthy folks already + Had there quietly assembled + O'er their brimming foaming bumpers. + Like red roses shone their faces, + And like radishes their noses. + "Want a big glass?" asked the waitress + Our old Anton, who assented: + "To be sure! hot is the weather, + And when I woke up, already + In my throat I felt a dryness." + So good Anton soon was drinking + From his large Bohemian bumper, + Turning over in his mind well, + How he should despatch his business. + + + In the private room was sitting, + Just then Werner with the landlord, + Who had served for his guest's breakfast + A fine slice of red smoked salmon, + And commenced with the young stranger + An instructive conversation: + On the vintage in the Rhine-Pfalz, + How the price of hops was standing, + How they fared in time of war there. + Now and then, to sound the stranger, + He threw slyly out some questions, + Whence he came and what his business. + Still he gained no satisfaction; + But quite shrewdly thus he reasoned: + + + "He's no bookworm, for he seemeth + Much too martial--nor a soldier + Either, as he looks too modest; + He may be a necromancer, + An adept in all dark witchcraft, + Alchemy, and other black arts. + Wait, I'll catch thee;" and he turned their + Talk to hidden buried treasures, + And to midnight exorcisms. + "Yes, my friend, here near the city + Lies a sandbank in the river. + At the time of Fridolinus + Heaps of gold coin there were buried. + One who knows, a clever fellow, + Could there dig and make his fortune." + + + "I already saw the sandbank," + Said young Werner, "when I rowed there + On the Rhine last night by moonlight." + + + "What, you know it then already?" + Said the landlord much astonished. + "Have I caught thee?" he thought, keenly + Looking at young Werner's pockets, + If he could not hear a jingling + Of great lots of golden money. + + + "Have I caught thee?" also gladly + To himself said worthy Anton. + "It is, after all, the right thing + Thus to take an early potion." + From the spot where he was seated + He had heard their conversation; + And besides upon the table. + By the stranger's sword and cocked hat, + Also lay the sought-for trumpet. + Drawing near, then, he said gravely: + + + "With your leave, if you're no spirit-- + And that seems to me unlikely. + As you've just enjoyed your breakfast-- + Then the Baron sends you greeting, + And invites you to his castle. + I will take you there with pleasure." + Thus he spoke. Young Werner listened, + Half astonished, and went with him. + + + Smirking, thought the cunning landlord: + "You will get it, my young master; + You believed you had full freedom + Thus to rove about the river, + Spying out long-buried treasures. + But the Baron found you out soon, + And will stop your bold proceedings. + Now you'll get it, when he treats you, + From his amply-furnished stores, to + Some of his well-seasoned curses. + Like a top your head will spin then, + And your ears buzz like a beehive. + But this will concern you solely. + If he keep you in a dungeon + Of your horse I'll take possession; + It will well score off your reckoning." + + + Once more in the hall together + Were the Baron and his daughter, + And again he smoked his pipe there, + When the ponderous folding-doors were + Opened, and, with modest reverence, + Werner entered. "If you only," + Said the faithful Anton, "only + Knew, your gracious lordship, what a + Heavy task it was to find him!" + Keenly did the Baron's eyes rest + On young Werner, passing muster; + By her father, lightly leaning + On his arm-chair, Margaretta + Bashfully looked at the stranger, + And with both the first impression + Of each other was most happy. + "It is you, then," said the Baron, + "Who last night have startled us here + With your trumpet-blowing, therefore + I should like to speak to you now." + "This commences well," thought Werner, + And, embarrassed, cast his eyes down + To the ground. But the old Baron, + Kindly smiling, thus continued: + "You believe, perhaps, I shall now + Call you to account for having + Made loud music near the castle? + You are wrong, 'tis not my business; + For no license is here needed + On the Rhine; if anybody + Wants to catch a cold by playing + Late at night there, he may do so. + No, I only wish to ask you, + Whether you would like here often + As last night to blow the trumpet? + But I fear I am mistaken. + You are not by trade a player, + May be one of those damned scribblers, + Secretary to a foreign + Embassy, as many are now + Coaching all about the country, + Just to spoil all that the soldier's + Ready sword had once accomplished?" + "Not bad either," thought young Werner; + Still he liked the Baron's manner. + "I am no professional player," + Said he, "and still less a scribbler. + As for my part, all the inkstands + In the Holy Roman Empire + Might dry up without my caring. + I am not in any service, + But as my own lord and master + I am travelling for my pleasure, + And await whatever fortune + On my pathway may be blooming." + + + "Very good, then," said the Baron. + "If it stands thus, you may well hear + Everything I have to tell you; + But before we go on farther, + With old wine it must be seasoned." + Cleverly his thoughts divining, + Margaretta, from the cellar, + Now brought up two dusty bottles + Which, with spider-webs all covered, + In the sand had lain half-buried; + Brought with them two fine-cut goblets, + Which she filled and then presented. + "This wine ripened long before the + War raged in our German country," + Said the Baron. "'Tis a famous + Choice old wine which grew at Grenzach. + Brightly in the glass it sparkles, + Like pure gold its colour shineth, + And a fragrance rises from it + Like the finest greenhouse flowers. + Master Trumpeter, ring glasses!" + + + Loudly then rang both their goblets. + Emptying his, the Baron spun out + Farther still the conversation. + "My young friend, you know, as long as + This world lasts, there will be people + Who are fond of hobby-horses. + Some are mystics and ascetics, + Others love old wine or brandy. + Some, antiquities are seeking, + Others are for chafers craving; + Many others make bad verses. + 'Tis a curious joke that each one + Much prefers to choose a calling + Most unsuited to his nature. + I thus also ride my hobby, + And this hobby is the noble + Muse of music who regales me. + As King Saul's deep sorrow vanished + At the sound of David's harp once, + So with cheering sounds of music + Do I banish age's inroads + And the gout, my old disturber. + When sometimes in _tempo presto_ + I an orchestra am leading, + Oft I think I'm once more riding + At the head of my brave squadrons. + Right wing, charge the enemy! charge! + At them now you piercing violins! + Fire away you kettle-drums now! + In the town here there are many + Skilful players--though among them + Is a want of sense artistic, + And of connoisseurship, only + Their good will doth hide their failings. + Violin, flute, also viol, + All these parts are well supported + And the contrabass is perfect. + But _one_ player still is wanting; + And, my friend, what is a general + Without orderlies, without a + Fugleman the line of battle, + And a band without the trumpet? + + + "Once 'twas different These old walls can + Hear him still, the valiant Rassmann, + The chief trumpeter of my squadrons. + Ha! that was a noble blowing! + Rassmann, wherefore didst thou die? + + + "Still as clear as on his last day, + Do I see him at the shooting + Festival at Laufenburg. + His mustache was fiercely twisted, + Bright and glistening was his trumpet, + And his riding-boots were shining + Like a mirror; I was chuckling. + ''Tis a point of honour,' said he. + 'I must all these Swiss astonish + With myself and with my trumpet.' + + + "Clear and cheerful rang out yonder + Bugle-horns and trumpets; but as + O'er the choir of forest singers + Sounds the nightingale's sweet warbling, + So above all rang out loudly + Rassmann's wondrous trumpet-blowing. + When we met, his cheeks were scarlet, + And fatigued appeared his breathing. + ''Tis a point of honour,' said he; + And blew on still. Then were silenced + All the trumpeters from Frickthal, + Those from Solothurn and Aarau, + By the trumpeter great Rassmann. + Once again we met, 'twas evening. + In the 'Golden Swan' he sat then; + Like a giant 'mid the pigmies + Looked he in this crowd of players. + Many were the goblets emptied + By the trumpeters from Frickthal, + And from Solothurn and Aarau, + But the most capacious goblet + Was drank out by my brave Rassmann. + And with fiery Castelberger, + Which grows on the Aar by Schinznach, + He at last filled up his trumpet. + ''Tis a point of honour,' said he; + Drank it out at one long swallow. + 'To your health my worthy colleagues! + Thus drinks trumpet-blower Rassmann.' + Midnight had already passed by, + Under tables lay some snoring, + But with steady step and upright + Started Rassmann from the tavern. + On the Rhine with mocking humour + He poured forth a roguish tune yet, + Then a misstep! Poor, poor Rassmann! + Straight he fell into the river, + And the Rhine's tremendous whirlpool + Thundered foaming and engulfed him, + Him the bravest trumpet-blower. + Ha! that was a noble blowing! + Rassmann, wherefore didst thou die?" + + + Deeply moved the Baron told this; + Then continued after pausing: + "My young friend, and think, last evening + On the Rhine a trumpet rang out + Like a greeting from his spirit, + And a tune I heard performed there, + Such a wilderness of sounds, and + Played in Rassmann's finest manner. + If we only had that trumpet, + Then the gap would be filled up well. + And once more I'd lead a full band, + As it were to frays of music. + Therefore hear now my proposal: + Stay with us here in my castle. + Paralysed is now the music + In the forest-city, blow then + New life into her old bones." + + + Thoughtfully spoke then young Werner: + "Noble lord, you do me honour, + But I nourish a misgiving. + Slim and straight have I thus grown up, + Have not learnt the art of bending + My proud back in any service." + + + Said the Baron: "Take no trouble + On that head; because the service + Of the arts enslaves nobody. + Only want of understanding + Makes one lose one's independence. + Be assured, nought is required + Of you but some merry music. + Only, if in idle moments + You would write for me a letter, + Or with my accounts would help me, + I should thank you; for an ancient + Soldier finds the pen a burden." + + + Still young Werner hesitated; + But a glance at Margaretta, + And the clouds of doubt all vanished. + "Noble lord," he said, "I'll stay then, + On the Rhine shall be my home now!" + "Bravo!" said the Baron kindly. + "From the prompting of the moment + Have the best results proceeded; + Evil springs from hesitation. + Master Trumpeter ring glasses! + With the golden wine of Grenzach, + With a hearty grasp of hands thus + Let us seal our new-made contract." + Turning then to Margaretta: + "I present to you, my daughter, + This new member of our household." + Then young Werner's silent greeting + Was returned by Margaretta. + + + "Follow me now through the castle, + My young friend, that I may show you + Where you will abide in future. + In the tower there I have the + Very room for a musician, + O'er the Rhine and mountains looking; + And the radiant morning sun will + Wake you early from your slumber. + There you cosily can nestle. + And the trumpet will sound well there." + + + From the hall they both proceeded. + From the hall the Baron's daughter + Also went, and in the garden + Gathered cowslips and sweet violets, + Also other fragrant flowers, + Speaking to herself: "How lonely + Must the young man feel here, coming + Thus to dwell with utter strangers! + And, besides, the tower-room looks + With its whitewashed walls so naked, + That I think my pretty nosegay + Will do much for its adornment." + + + + + SEVENTH PART. + + THE EXCURSION TO THE MOUNTAIN LAKE. + + + Azure heavens, glowing sunlight, + Bees' low humming, larks' gay carols, + Clear as glass the Rhine's green waters. + On the mountains snow is melting, + In the valleys blossom fruit trees, + May begins his reign at last. + + + In the path before the hall door + Hiddigeigei took his comfort, + Caring only that the sun's rays + On his fur should fall and warm him. + Through the garden walked the Baron + With his daughter, and with pleasure + He beheld the trees in blossom. + "If my life should be preserved still + For a hundred years or longer, + I should always be delighted + With this wonder-breathing May-time. + True, indeed, I set no value + On the May-dew, though the women + Like to wet with it their faces. + I have never seen a soul yet + Who by it improved her beauty; + Have no faith in arts of witchcraft + In the night of St. Walpurgis, + Nor in broomstick-riding squadrons. + Notwithstanding there belongs a + Magic to the month of May. + My old weary bones have suffered + Many painful gouty twinges + From the chilly winds of April. + Now these pains are quite forgotten, + And I feel as if the old strength + Of my youth were through me streaming, + And as if I were once more a + Beardless trim and gay young ensign, + In those days when at Noerdlingen + I fought fiercely, in close combat + With those brave blue Swedish horseman. + So I think, it would be pleasant + To agree, this is a feast-day, + Though no Saint has ever claimed it. + Let us saunter through the forest. + I will breathe the balmy pine air, + And the young folks may try whether + Fortune favours them at fishing. + Yes, to-day I yearn for pleasure. + Anton, get the horses ready." + + + So 'twas done as he had ordered. + In the court, filled with impatience, + Pawed and neighed the fiery horses. + Full of joyful expectation + For the sport were the young people. + Bent on fishing they had carried + The great net up from the river. + Worthy Anton had invited + Many friends of the old Baron, + Also had communicated + With the ladies of the convent; + And, besides, some uninvited + Guests had also here assembled. + When the landlord of the "Button" + Heard the news, he to his wife said: + "To thy care I trust entirely + All the business of the tavern; + In thy hands I lay the keys now + Of the cellar and the larder, + I must join the fishing-party." + Speaking thus he stole off quickly; + Ne'er he missed a hunt or fishing. + + + Strong and hearty looked the Baron, + On his charger firmly seated + Like a bronze equestrian statue. + By his side on her white palfrey + Rode the lovely Margaretta. + Gracefully to her slim figure + Clung in folds her riding-habit; + Gracefully the blue veil floated + From her riding-hat of velvet. + With a steady hand she boldly + Reined her palfrey, who was bearing + With delight so fair a burden. + Watchfully good Anton followed + His fair mistress; also Werner + After them was gaily trotting, + Though at a respectful distance. + For, behind, in solemn grandeur, + Came the big old-fashioned carriage + Of the Lady Princess Abbess, + With three ladies of the convent, + Likewise old and venerable. + They by Werner were escorted. + He made many courtly speeches + To these old and noble ladies, + And broke many flowering branches + From the trees, and most politely + Handed them into the carriage; + So that, struck with his fine manners, + They unto each other whispered: + "What a pity he's not noble!" + + + Up hill steep the road ascended, + And the forest of dark pine-trees + Now received the long procession. + Soon then through the dusky branches + Silver like the mountain-lake shone, + And already merry shouting + Came from thence; for the young people + Of the town had gained the lake-shore + By a shorter steeper path. + At the summit, where the main-road + Took a different direction, + Carriages and riders halted, + And the vehicles and horses + To the servants' care were left. + Full of vigour, through the forest, + Down the hill-slope walked the Baron, + And the ladies followed bravely. + Mosses like the softest velvet + Thickly covered all the ground there, + And descending was not dangerous. + On a ridge, which wide and sunny, + Far into the lake protruded, + Numerous blocks of rock lay scattered. + There the Baron rested, and the + Ladies followed his example. + + + Deep green lake, dense shade of fir-trees, + Many thousand times I greet you. + I who now this song am singing + Of the past, rejoice in you still. + Oh, how oft ye have refreshed me, + When escaping from the daily + Narrowness of petty town life, + Out to you I used to wander. + Often on the rock I've rested, + Which the roots of the old pine-trees + Cling to, while beneath the lake lies + With its gently rippled surface. + In deep shade the shores lie buried, + But the glittering rays of sunlight + Gaily dance across the water. + All around reigned holy silence, + Only heard there was the hammering + Of the pecker on the pine-trees. + Through the fallen leaves and mosses + Rustled softly emerald lizards, + And with clever questioning glances + Curiously they eyed the stranger. + + + Yes, I often lay there dreaming; + And when often still at night-fall + I sat there, I heard a rustling + Through the reeds, the water-lilies + Whispered softly to each other. + Then arose from the deep water + Mermaids, whose fair pallid faces + Brightly shone in the soft moonlight. + Heart overwhelming, mind bewildering, + Were their gliding graceful motions; + And they beckoned me to come there. + But the fir-tree held and warned me: + "Stay thou here on terra firma, + Hast no business in the water." + + + Deep green lake, dense shade of fir-trees, + Oft I think of you quite sadly. + Since those days I've been a wanderer: + I have climbed up many mountains, + And through many lands have travelled, + Looked upon the restless ocean, + And have heard the Sirens singing; + But yet often through my memory + Steal the lake's sweet soothing murmurs, + And soft whispers from the fir-trees, + Home, and love, and youth recalling. + + + Now there was a noisy thronging, + Running, shouting, laughing, joking, + Down beneath there on the shore. + Like a general, stood the cunning, + Skilful landlord of the "Button," + 'Mid the crowd of younger people, + And on every side was giving + His wise counsels, how they might now + Have a good successful fishing. + There behind the rocks a boat lay + In the reeds with brushwood covered, + And with chains securely fastened, + That no poachers should disturb it, + Who might come along at midnight, + And employ it for their fishing. + From its hiding-place they dragged it + Onward to the lake-shore, and there + Placed the heavy net within it. + Closely netted were the meshes + Of the coarsest twine, while many + Leaden weights thereon were fastened. + When they tried the boat for leakage, + Although somewhat out of order, + They pronounced it quite seaworthy. + Now the landlord and five comrades, + Gay and hopeful, took their places, + And one end of the great net threw + To some friends on shore remaining, + With the charge to hold it tightly. + From the shore they pushed away now, + Rowing stoutly as the net sank + Slowly down in a wide curve; + Then returned with speed much lessened, + Always dragging on the heavy + Bulky net, so that the fishes + Might therein become entangled. + On the shore they sprang out quickly, + And drew after them the netting, + Till they nigh approached those friends who + Still upon the shore were waiting. + Stoutly pulling back the ends, they + Raised the net out of the water, + In great hopes of lots of booty. + But within itself entangled + It came slowly to the surface + Empty: some unskilful rower + Had prevented it from sinking, + And the dwellers of the lake laughed + To have just escaped such danger. + Now the landlord cast sharp glances + Over all the meshes. Nothing + Met his anxious gaze but water; + Not the smallest fish was caught there; + Only an old boot half rotten, + And a toad half crushed and flattened, + Which with eyes protruding oddly + Looked upon the sunlit forest, + And the human faces round him, + And he thought: "It is most truly + Wonderful, how anybody + Ever can enjoy existence, + With this sky and this bright sunlight! + Well, it seems to me no one here + E'er can have the slightest notion + Of the mud and all its splendour. + Would I were in my own element!" + + + Those who stood upon the lake-shore + Raised a long and roaring laughter + At these first-fruits of the fishing. + But in rage broke out the landlord, + O'er their laughter rang his scolding: + "Stupid fellows, bunglers, numskulls!" + And with angry kicks he sent then + All the booty flying swiftly, + Boot and toad in peace together + To the water where they came from. + Loudly splashing they sank downward. + + + But the disappointed fishers + Would again now try their fortune, + Loosened all the tangled meshes, + And with greatest care they lowered + Then the net and raised it slowly. + And to do so there were needed + Many sturdy pulls and struggles. + Ringing shouts and cries of triumph + Greeted this successful fishing. + From the rock came down the Baron + To the fishers, and the ladies + Eagerly made haste to follow. + Over rocks and thorny brambles + To the shore they found a pathway. + Margaretta followed also, + Notwithstanding her long habit. + When young Werner saw her coming, + Bashfully his arm he offered, + And bewildered were his senses. + So Sir Walter Raleigh's heart once + Must have beaten, when his mantle + He made use of as a carpet + For his gracious royal mistress. + Yet with thanks fair Margaretta + Werner's arm and aid accepted. + Out there in the verdant forest + Many useless scruples vanish, + Which oft elsewhere greatly trouble + Masters of the ceremonies. + The descent there was not easy, + And no other arm was near her. + + + By the lake they gaily looked now + At the fishing booty struggling. + Flapping in the net's strong meshes + Were the captives. Many snapping + Sought a way still for escaping, + But on the bare sand were landed; + And thus fruitless was their trial. + Those who felt toward each other + In the depths such bitter hatred, + Now as captives were quite peaceful: + Snake-like eels, so smooth and slippery, + Well-fed carps with huge broad noses, + And the pirate-fish, the slender + Pike with jaws large and voracious. + As in war, the harmless peasants + Often to stray shots fall victims, + So the fate of being captured + Many others overtook: + Handsome barbels, spotted gudgeons; + Tiny bleaks, the river-swallow; + And through all this crowd of fishes + Sluggishly the crab was creeping; + Inwardly he sadly grumbled: + "Caught together, hung together." + + + Well contented said the Baron: + "After labour comes amusement. + Seems to me, that our fresh booty + Will taste better in the forest. + Therefore let us now make ready + For ourselves a rustic dinner." + To these words they all assented, + And the landlord of the "Button" + Sent out two fleet-footed fellows + To the city with the order: + "Two large pans bring quickly hither; + Bring me golden fresh-made butter, + Also bread, and salt sufficient, + And a keg of fine old wine. + Bring me lemons too, and sugar; + For I feel a premonition + As if May-drink would be wanted." + Off they started. Under shelter + Of a rock with a tall pine-tree, + Some the hearth were getting ready, + Bringing there dry boughs and fagots, + Loads of furze and moss together. + Others now prepared the fishes + For the feast, and all the ladies + Gathered herbs of spicy fragrance, + Such as thyme and leaves of strawberries; + Also gathered for the May-wine + The white-blooming fragrant woodroof. + Which rejoiced at being broken + By such tender hands, and thought thus: + "Sweet it was in these dark pine-woods, + To be blooming, 'mid the rocks here, + But still sweeter in the May-time + 'Tis to die, and with the last breath + Highly then to spice the May-wine + For the joy of human beings. + Death in general is corruption, + But the woodroof's death is like that + Of the morning-dew on blossoms, + Sweetly, without sighs, exhaling." + From the town returning quickly + Came the two fleet-footed fellows, + Bringing stores, as had been ordered. + And soon crackled on the stone-hearth + Cheerfully a blazing fire. + In the pans were frying briskly + What had recently been swimming. + First a mighty pike was served up + To the ladies by the landlord, + As a show of rustic cooking; + And a solemn earnest silence + Soon gave evidence that all were + Very busy with the banquet. + Only the confused low sounds of + Gnawing fish-bones, munching crab-claws, + Now disturbed the forest quiet. + + + Meanwhile, farther up, delicious + Fragrant May-wine was preparing. + In a bowl of size capacious + Margaretta's taste artistic + Well had brewed it; mild and spicy, + As sweet May himself the drink was. + Every glass she filled up, kindly + Helping all with graceful bearing. + Everybody got his share, and + All were merry round the fire. + + + There the city-teacher also + Stretched himself upon the grass-bank. + From the school he had absconded, + Also to enjoy the fishing. + In his heart he bore a secret, + Had to-day composed a song. + May-wine, May-wine, drink of magic! + Suddenly his cheeks were glowing, + And his eyes were shining brightly. + On the rock he sprang courageous, + Saying: "I will sing you something." + Smiling now, the others listened, + And young Werner stepping forward, + On his trumpet low and softly + Blew a piece first as a prelude. + Then upon the rock the teacher + Raised his voice and sang with fervour. + Werner joined him on the trumpet + Clear and joyful, and the chorus + Also fell in--clear and joyful + Through the forest rang the + + + MAY SONG. + + "A wondrous youth of lovely mien + Rich gifts of joy is strewing; + O'er hill and vale, where'er are seen + His footsteps, light is glowing. + The fresh young green decks hill and lea, + The birds are singing merrily, + While falls in gentle showers + A rain of snow-white flowers. + So in the woods we sing and shout, + Heigh-tralala loud ringing; + We sing, while all things bud and sprout, + To May our welcome bringing. + + + "Young May in humming sounds delights, + Is full of merry capers; + So through the fir-trees swarm great flights + Of golden buzzing chafers. + And from the moss white lilies rise, + Of spring the fairest sweetest prize; + Their bells in tuneful measure + Ring in the May with pleasure. + So in the woods we sing and shout, + Heigh-tralala loud ringing; + We sing, while all things bud and sprout, + To May our welcome bringing. + + + "Now everyone may think, who can, + Of mirth, and love that burneth; + To many an old and worthy man + His youth again returneth. + His shouts resound across the Rhine: + 'O let me in, thou sweetheart mine!' + And voices loud are crying; + Love's darts in May are flying. + So in the woods we sing and shout + Heigh-tralala loud ringing; + We sing, while all things bud and sprout, + To May our welcome bringing." + + + Long the plaudits, loud the clapping, + When it ended. And the ladies + Also seemed delighted with it; + As, indeed, in the loud chorus + Many gentle female voices + Readily could be distinguished. + Margaret in playful humour, + Out of hazel-leaves and holly, + And of violets and crowfoot, + Wound a garland, and said archly: + "This wreath to the most deserving! + But I'm puzzled who shall get it-- + Whether he who sang the May-song, + Or else he who on the trumpet + Played the fine accompaniment." + + + Said the Baron: "In this matter + I will give a just decision. + Ever the first prize is given + To the poet; but a garland + Or a laurel-crown, what are they? + I agree with the old Grecians + Who awarded to the singer + Just the victim's fattest portion, + As the saddle or the buttock. + And I fancy that the teacher's + Stores are not so well provided, + That he'll offer an objection. + Therefore I make him a present + Of the largest pike and carp, which + Still are left among our booty. + But as my young friend, the trumpeter, + Seems disposed less practically, + So you may, in my opinion, + Honour him with your fair garland; + For, indeed, he played not badly." + + + Simpering now the happy singer + Rubbed his hands and blessed the May-time, + As he saw a glowing vision + Of the pan with fishes frying. + But young Werner to the maiden + Bashfully approached, and lowly + Bending on his knee, he hardly + Dared to gaze at her blue eyes. + But with grace placed Margaretta + On his brow the blooming garland, + While a weird and lurid fire-light + Suddenly in fitful flashes + Fell upon the group assembled. + For the embers on the hearth-stone + Had ignited the old pine-tree. + Flaming fiery tongues now glided + Through the branches full of resin; + And the sparks flew crackling upward + Wildly to the evening sky. + + + Margaretta, Margaretta! + Were they fireworks which the pine woods + Fondly burned to do thee honour? + Or did Cupid with his flaming + Love-torch wander through the forest? + But the flames were soon extinguished. + And the Baron now gave orders + That the party should break up; and + Fishers, riders, noble ladies, + All went homeward in the twilight. + Faintly glimmering fell the last bright + Sparks from out the pine-tree branches, + Sinking in the mountain-lake. + + + + + EIGHTH PART. + + THE CONCERT IN THE GARDEN PAVILION. + + + In the garden of the castle + Mighty chestnut trees are standing, + And a pretty gay pavilion. + In the Rhine are deeply sunken + The foundations of the terrace. + 'Tis a quiet cosy corner, + Hidden by a mass of foliage. + While below the waves are murmuring. + + + For the last two months, mysterious + Business has been going on here. + Pots of colours, painting brushes, + Lime and mortar, masons' trowels + And high scaffoldings are rising + To the dome of the pavilion. + Is't some evil spirit's workshop?-- + 'Tis no evil spirit's workshop. + Frescoes here are being painted, + And the legs which there are dangling + From the lofty wooden scaffold, + Are the legs of the illustrious + Fresco-painter Fludribus, + Who returning from Italia + Had been living in the Rhine-land. + He was pleased with the fair country, + And the rosy happy faces, + And the cellars full of wine. + All the people wondered at him + As they would at an enchanter; + For he told them marvellous stories. + In his youth he had been travelling, + And by chance once in Bologna + Came upon the school of artists. + In the studio of Albini + He became a colour-mixer; + And from this most graceful master + He found out with ready cunning + How to paint both gods and heroes, + And the airy little cupids. + Yes, he even helped the master, + Making easy light gradations, + Or preparing the dead colouring. + + + On the Rhine, far round the country + Fludribus was the sole artist. + Painted many tavern sign-boards, + Pictures also for the chapels, + Portraits e'en of brides of peasants. + Stable was his reputation; + For if any criticisers + Would find fault with his great paintings, + That an arm or nose was crooked, + Or a cheek looked too much swollen, + Then he would overwhelm his critics + With the big high-sounding phrases + He had learnt when at Bologna. + Hearing nothing but perspective, + Colouring and soft gradation, + Modelling and bold foreshortening, + Soon they lost their wits entirely. + + + Margaretta, who with faithful + Love had long the matter pondered, + How she would surprise her father + With a pleasure on his birthday, + Spoke to Master Fludribus: + "I have heard it oft related + How in France in lordly castles + They adorn the walls with frescoes. + Therefore try to paint now something + Like them here in my pavilion. + From the world secluded, I know + Naught about such compositions; + Therefore to your taste I leave all, + Only you must work in secret, + As the Baron must know nothing." + + + Fludribus looked consequential: + "Though but trifling is the order, + Still I coincide with Cæsar, + And am rather here considered + First than at great Rome the second. + And besides, there all is finished. + Even in the Pope's own palace + All those thoughts high and æsthetic, + Which I in my bosom cherished, + Has a man by name of Raphael + Painted on the walls already. + But I shall great things achieve, + And shall do like Buffamalco, + Who with rich red wine imparted + Glowing warmth to the cold colours. + Therefore, furnish me with red wine + First; of course, good eating with it. + Rich reward I do not care for, + Since the thought is my enjoyment, + That I shall be made immortal + Through the efforts of my genius. + Thus I'll paint for almost nothing, + Just the square foot seven shillings." + + + Since two months he had been painting + On the walls beneath the arched roof; + Imitated Buffamalco; + But he drank himself the red wine. + And his compositions truly + Were artistic, highly proper, + And of elegant conception. + + + To begin with: there paraded + Perseus and Andromeda; + At their feet lay deadly wounded + The great Hydra, with a handsome + Face, much like a human being, + Who in dying still coquetted + With the lovely rock-bound captive. + Then the Judgment came of Paris; + And in order that the dazzling + Beauty of those heavenly ladies + Should not quite eclipse the hero, + They looked off toward the landscape, + With their backs to the spectator. + Similar were the other pictures: + As Diana and Actæon, + Orpheus and Eurydice. + For the man of genius chooses + From mythology his subjects; + And he thinks, in nudeness only, + Is revealed the highest beauty. + Now the work was all accomplished, + And with feeling, said the master: + "Happy can I go to Hades, + As my works are my memorial. + In the history of this Rhine-land + A new epoch of the fine arts + Will begin with Fludribus." + + + 'Twas the wish of Margaretta + To inaugurate with music + This so beautified pavilion. + Ha! how Werner's heart was beating, + When he heard the maid's desire. + He directly went to Basel + To select the new productions + Of the musical composers; + And he brought the scores back with him + Of the great Venetian master, + Claudio di Monteverde, + Whose sweet pastoral composition + Carried off the prize in music. + Then there was a noisy bustle + 'Mongst the artists of the city; + And a most increasing practice + In the frequent long rehearsals, + All unnoticed by the Baron. + + + Now, at last, the long-expected + Day had come, the Baron's birthday. + At the table he was chatting + With his friend and pleasant neighbour, + The good prelate of St. Blasien, + Who had driven hither early, + To express his heartfelt wishes. + Meanwhile many hands were busy + Decorating the pavilion + With fresh garlands, and were placing + Rows of music-desks in order. + + + By degrees there came now gliding + Through the side-gate by the river + All the musical performers. + First, the youthful burgomaster + Bending under the unwieldy + Contra-bass, whose sounds sonorous + Often from his thoughts did banish + All the cares of his high office, + And the council's stupid blunders. + Next there came the bloated chaplain + Who played finely on the violin, + Drawing from it such shrill wailings, + As if wishing to give utterance + To his lonely bachelor's heart. + With his horn beneath his arm came + The receiver's clerk, who often, + A great bore to his superior, + With his playing did enliven + All the dry accounts he summed up, + And the dulness of subtraction. + There came also stepping slowly, + Dressed in black, but shabby looking, + With a hat the worse for usage, + He the lank assistant-teacher, + Who by Art consoled himself for + What was wanting in his income, + And instead of wine and roast beef + Lived upon his flute's sweet music. + Then came--Who can count, however, + All these instrumental players? + All the talent of the city + For this concert had united. + From the ironworks of Albbruck + Even came the superintendent; + He alone played the viola. + + + Like a troop of mounted warriors + Who the enemy expecting, + Lurk in safe and hidden ambush, + So they waited for the Baron + To arrive. And like good marksmen + Who with care before the battle + Try their weapons, if their powder + By the dew has not been damaged, + If the flint is good for striking; + So by blowing, scraping, tuning, + They their instruments were trying. + + + Margaretta led the Baron + And his guest now to the garden. + Women never are in want of + A good pretext, when some fun or + Some surprise they are preparing. + So she praised the shady coolness + And the view from the pavilion, + Till the two old friends were turning + Toward that spot without suspicion. + Like a volley then resounded + At their entrance a loud flourish, + Every instrument saluting; + And like roaring torrents bursting + Wildly through the gaping sluice-gate, + So the overture let loose now + Its loud storming floods of music + On the much astonished hearers. + With the greatest skill young Werner + Led the orchestra, whose chorus + Gladly yielded to his bâton. + Ha! that was a splendid bowing, + Such a fiddling, such a pealing! + Hopping lightly, like a locust, + Through the din the clarinet flew, + And the contra-bass kept groaning, + As if wailing for its soul, + While the player's brow was sweating + From his arduous performance. + + + There behind in the orchestra + Fludribus the drum was beating; + As a many-sided genius, + During pauses, he was also + To the triangle attending. + But his heart o'erflowed with sadness; + And the drum's dull sound re-echoed + His complaints, as dull and grumbling: + "Dilettanti, happy people! + Merrily they suck the honey + From the flowers which with heavy + Throes the Master's mind created; + And they spice well their enjoyment + With their mutual frequent blunders. + Genuine Art is a titanic + Heaven-storming strife and struggle + For a Beauty still receding, + While the soul is gnawed with longing + For the unattained Ideal. + But these bunglers are quite happy." + + + Now the din of sound subsided. + As oft after heavy tempests, + When the thunder ceases pealing, + Mildly shineth forth the rainbow + 'Gainst the canopy of heaven; + So now the full band is followed + By the trumpet's dulcet solo. + Werner blew it: low and melting + Rang the tunes forth from the trumpet. + Full of wonder some were staring + At the score, in wonder also + The fat chaplain nudged the teacher + On the arm, and whispered softly: + "Hear'st thou what he's playing? Nothing + Like it in the score is written. + Has he read perhaps his music + In the fair young lady's eyes?" + + + Splendidly the concert came thus + To an end, and the musicians + Sat exhausted and yet happy + That they had so well succeeded. + Now the prelate of St. Blasien + Stepped forth bowing quite politely + To the band, and as a clever + Connoisseur and statesman spoke thus: + "Heavy wounds have been inflicted + On our land while war was raging, + And throughout our German country + Rudeness was predominating. + Therefore it deserves great praise, thus + With the Muses to take refuge. + This refreshes and ennobles, + Civilises human beings, + So that war and strife are silenced. + All these frescoes on the walls here + Show no ordinary talent; + And still more this feast of music + Makes me think well of the players + Who my ears have thus delighted, + Brought my happy youth before me, + Took me back to fair Italia, + When in Rome I listened to the + Tones of Cavalieri's Daphne, + And idyllic pastoral longing + Filled my heart to overflowing. + Therefore, my dear friends, continue + Thus to worship at Art's altar. + Let the harmony of sound keep + Far from you all strife and discord. + Oh how pleasant it would be, if + Such a spirit were but common!" + + + Deeply moved by these high praises + From a man of such rich knowledge, + The whole orchestra, delighted, + Bowed to him when he had finished. + Highly pleased, the Baron also + Walked around, gave hearty greetings; + And to testify his thanks--for + Words alone don't suit a Baron-- + Ordered from his well-stocked cellars + A huge cask of beer brought up there. + "'Twas well done, my good musicians, + Most efficient chapel-master! + Where the devil have you picked up + All these pretty compositions? + And you, Fludribus, have also + Painted well; suits me exactly. + Other times, 'tis true, may come yet + When our goddesses must wear more + Draperies than you have painted; + But a gray old soldier does not + Blame you for a little nudeness. + Therefore, let us ring our glasses + To our noble guest's good health, and + To the excellent musicians. + Yes, for aught I care, we'll drink to + The fair shivering painted deities, + That the winter in the Rhine-land + May not prove too rigorous for them." + + + Margaretta thought it wiser + Now to leave the room, well knowing + That the party might get noisy. + On the threshold she gave Werner + Her fair hand with grateful feeling. + 'Tis most likely that the pressure + Of the hand was full of meaning; + But no chronicle doth tell us: + Was it homage to the artist, + Or a sign of deeper interest? + + + Glasses rang and foaming bumpers, + And there was some heavy drinking; + But my song must keep the secret + Of the fate of late returners; + Also hide the sudden drowning + Which the hat of the lank teacher + Suffered in the Rhine that night. + + + But at midnight, when the last guest + For his home long since had started, + Low the chestnut trees were whispering. + Said the one: "Oh fresco paintings!" + Said the other: "Oh thou ding dong!" + Then the first: "I see the future-- + See there two remorseless workmen, + See two monstrous painting-brushes, + See two buckets full of whitewash. + And they quietly daub over, + With a heavy coating, heroes, + Deities, and Fludribus. + Other ages--other pictures!" + + + Said the other: "In the far-off + Future I hear from the same place + Glees resounding from male voices. + Rising to our lofty summits, + Simple touching German music. + Other ages--other music!" + Both together added: "True love + Will endure throughout all ages!" + + + + + NINTH PART. + + TEACHING AND LEARNING. + + + Winds and the swift river's current + Hardly had swept off the dulcet + Melodies of Monteverde, + When the people in the city + Held no other conversation + Than of this great feast of music. + Not, however, of the spirit + Of the melodies they'd heard then, + Neither of the deep emotion + Which was in their souls awakened, + Were they speaking; they disputed + Who received the Baron's thanks first + At the end of the performance; + Whom the Abbot had distinguished + Most that evening by his praises; + And what finally was served up + From the kitchen and the cellar. + As the tail of a dead lizard + Still, when life has long departed, + With spasmodic jerks is writhing: + So the memory of great actions + Still lives on in daily gossip. + But with thoughts above such nonsense + Margaretta took an early + Solitary walk next morning + To the honeysuckle arbour, + There to dream of last night's music, + Specially of Werner's solo, + Which still through her soul was thrilling + Like a message of sweet love. + But what saw she? In the arbour + On the little rustic table + She beheld the very trumpet. + Like the magic horn of Huon, + Wondrous mysteries containing; + Dumb, but full of deep expression, + Like a star it sparkled there. + + + Margaretta stood confounded + At the arbour's shady entrance: + "Came he here? And now, where is he? + Wherefore has he left his trumpet + Here so wholly unprotected? + Easily a worm might crawl in, + Or a thief might come and steal it. + Shall I take it to the castle, + Take it in my careful keeping? + No, I'll go, do nothing with it, + Should indeed have gone before." + + + But she tarried, for her eyes were + Held in durance by the trumpet, + Like a shad caught by the fish-hook. + "Oh, I wonder," she was thinking, + "Whether my breath would be able + From its depths a tone to waken. + Oh I much should like to know this! + No one sees what I am doing, + All around no living being. + Only my old Hiddigeigei + Licks the dew from off the box-tree; + Only insects in the sand here + Follow out their digging instinct, + And the caterpillars gently + Up and down the arbour crawl." + + + So the maiden shyly entered, + Shyly she took up the trumpet, + To her rosy lips she pressed it; + But with fright she well-nigh trembled + At her breath to sound transforming + In the trumpet's golden calyx. + Which the air was bearing farther, + Farther--ah, who knoweth where? + But she cannot stop the fun now, + And with sounds discordant, horrid, + Fit to rend the ears to pieces, + So disturbed the morning stillness, + That the poor cat Hiddigeigei's + Long black hair stood up like bristles, + Like the sharp quills of a hedgehog. + Raising then his paw to cover + His offended ear, he spoke thus: + "Suffer on, my valiant cat-heart, + Which so much has borne already, + Also bear this maiden's music! + We, we understand the laws well, + Which do regulate and govern + Sound, enigma of creation. + And we know the charm mysterious + Which invisibly through space floats, + And, intangible a phantom, + Penetrates our hearing organs, + And in beasts' as well as men's hearts + Wakes up love, delight and longing, + Raving madness and wild frenzy. + And yet, we must bear this insult, + That when nightly in sweet mewing + We our love-pangs are outpouring, + Men will only laugh and mock us, + And our finest compositions + Rudely brand as caterwauling. + And in spite of this we witness + That these same fault-finding beings + Can produce such horrid sounds as + Those which I have just now heard. + Are such tones not like a nosegay + Made of straw, and thorns, and nettles, + In the midst a prickly thistle? + And in presence of this maiden + Who the trumpet there is blowing, + Can a man then without blushing + E'er sneer at our caterwauling? + But, thou valiant heart, be patient! + Suffer now, the time will yet come + When this self-sufficient monster, + Man, will steal from us the true art + Of expressing all his feelings; + When the whole world in its struggle + For the highest form of culture + Will adopt our style of music. + For in history, there is justice. + She redresses every wrong." + + + But besides old Hiddigeigei, + Standing far down by the river + There was still another listener + To these first attempts at blowing, + Who felt anger more than pleasure. + + It was Werner. He came early + With his trumpet to the garden, + Wanted to compose a song there + In that quiet morning-hour. + First, however, his dear trumpet + He laid on the rustic table. + Then stood musing by the stone-wall + Gazing at the rapid river. + "Yes, I see, your waves preserve still + Their old course and disposition, + Ever toward the ocean rushing, + As my heart for my love striveth. + Who now from the goal is farthest, + Clear green river, thou or I?" + All this train of thought was broken + By the stork from the old tower, + Who, full of a father's pride, had + Taken his young brood to ramble + On the Rhine-shore for the first time. + 'Twas amusing to young Werner + How just then the old stork gravely, + On the sand with stealthy cunning, + Closely a poor eel was watching, + Who of various worms was making + There a comfortable meal. + He, however, who was wielding + O'er the little worms the strand-law, + Soon himself will serve as breakfast. + For the greater eats the lesser, + And the greatest eats the great ones. + In this simple manner nature + Solves the knotty social question. + No more did his smoothness help him, + No more his sleek body's wriggling, + No more his spasmodic beating + With his tail so strong and supple. + Tightly held in the indented + Beak of the determined parent, + He was given to the hopeful + Stork-brood, now to be divided; + And they held with noisy clatter + Solemnly their morning-feast. + Nearer to observe this, Werner + Had descended to the Rhine-bank, + And he seemed in no great hurry + To commence his composition. + There he sat himself down gently + On the insect-covered moss-bank. + Shaded by a silvery willow, + And it gave him much amusement + Thus to be a silent witness + Of this banquet of the storks. + + + Pleasures, yet, of all descriptions + Are but fleeting on our planet. + Even to the most contented + Doth it happen that fate often + Like a meteor bursts upon them. + Only a short time had Werner + Viewed this scene when he was startled + By the tones of his own trumpet, + Which like keen-edged Pandour daggers + Deep into his soul were cutting. + + + "'Tis the gardener's saucy youngster + Who my trumpet thus is blowing," + Said young Werner, in his anger + Starting from his seat so quickly + That the storks thereby much frightened, + Fluttering upward sought the tower; + And so quickly that they even + Had no time to take the eel off. + Like a poor old torso lay he + On the sand so pitifully; + And the chronicles are silent + Whether the old father stork came + Ever back to take his booty. + + + Werner meanwhile to the garden + Climbed up; to the shady arbour + On the soft green sward he's walking, + That the pebbly footpath may not + By the noise betray his coming. + In the very act of sinning + Doth he wish to catch the rascal, + And to beat time to his music + On his back without relenting. + Thus he comes up to the arbour, + With his hand raised high in anger. + But, as if 'twere struck by lightning, + To his side it dropped down quickly, + And the stroke remained, like German + Unity and other projects, + Only an ideal dream. + Then beheld he Margaretta + Pressing to her lips the trumpet, + And her rosy cheeks are puffed out + Like those trumpet-blowing angels' + In the church of Fridolinus. + Up she starts now as a thief would + In the neighbour's yard detected, + And the trumpet drops abruptly + From the touch of her soft lips. + Werner covered her confusion + Through a clever maze of language; + And with ardour he commences + On the spot to teach the maiden + The first steps in trumpet-blowing + In strict order, with due method; + Shows the instrument's construction, + How to use the lips in blowing, + That true tones may be forthcoming. + Margaretta listened docile. + And before she is aware, new + Tones she finds she is awaking + From the trumpet which young Werner + With low bows had handed to her. + Easily from him she learneth + What her father's cuirassiers blew + As the call to charge in battle; + Only a few notes and simple, + But most pithy and inspiring. + + + Love is, there can be no question, + Of all teachers the most skilful; + And what years of earnest study + Do not conquer, he is winning + With the charm of an entreaty, + With the magic of a look. + E'en a common Flemish blacksmith + Once became through love's sweet passion + In advanced age a great painter. + Happy teacher, happy scholar, + In the honeysuckle arbour! + 'Twas as if the only safety + Of the German empire rested + On this trumpet-call's performance. + But within their souls was stirring + Quite a different melody: + That sweet song, old as creation, + Of the bliss of youthful lovers; + True, a song without the words yet, + But they had divined its meaning, + And beneath a playful manner + Hid the blissful consciousness, + Startled by this trumpet-blowing + Came the Baron reconnoitring, + Tried to frown, but soon his anger + Was converted into pleasure, + When he heard his child there blowing + The old fanfar of his horsemen. + Friendly spoke he to young Werner: + "You are truly in your office + A most ardent zeal unfolding. + If you go on in this manner, + We shall see most wondrous things yet. + The old stable-door which harshly + Creaks and groans upon its hinges, + Even in the pond the bull-frogs + May perhaps change for the better, + Through your trumpet's magic charm." + + + Werner held, however, henceforth + His dear trumpet as a jewel, + Which the richest Basel merchant, + With the fullest bag of money, + Could not ever purchase from him; + For the lips of Margaretta + Made it sacred by their touch. + + + + + TENTH PART. + + YOUNG WERNER IN THE GNOME'S CAVE. + + + From the Feldberg tears a raging + Foaming torrent through the forests + To the Rhine--its name is Wehra. + In the narrow valley standeth + 'Midst the rocks a single fir-tree; + In the branches sat the haggard + Wicked wood-sprite Meysenhartus, + Who to-day behaved quite badly: + Showing his sharp teeth and grinning, + Tore a branch off from the fir-tree, + And kept gnawing at a pine-cone; + Clambered often quite indignant + Up and down just like a squirrel; + From the wings of a poor night-owl + Roughly plucked out several feathers; + And while mocking the old fir-tree + Rocked himself upon its summit. + + + "High old fir-tree, green old fir-tree! + I with thee would ne'er my lot change. + Firmly rooted must thou stand there, + And take everything that happens; + Never canst thou quit thy station. + And if ever Fate ordaineth. + Thou to far-off lands shalt wander, + Men have first to come with axes; + With hard strokes they hack and cut thee, + Deep into thy flesh, till falling; + And then strip unmercifully + All thy skin from off thy body; + Throw thee next into the Rhine, and + Make thee swim as far as Holland. + And if e'er they pay the honour + On a frigate to erect thee + As a proud and stately mast, still + Thou art but a smooth-skinned fir-tree, + Without roots there lonely standing; + And thou yearnest on the ocean + For thy old home in the forest, + Till at last a flash of lightning + Mast and ship and all destroyeth. + High old fir-tree, green old fir-tree! + I with thee would ne'er my lot change!" + + + Said the fir-tree: "Everybody + Must accept the sphere he's born in, + And fulfil his duties fully. + So we think here in the forest; + And 'tis well so, at least better + Than to hop will-o'-the-wisp like, + Playing pranks and doing mischief, + Men and cattle oft misleading, + And the stupid wanderer's curses + As reward home with thee taking. + Anyhow, no one cares for thee. + For, at best, a peasant sayeth, + Devil take this Meysenhartus! + But they're others who write volumes + Proving thou hast no existence; + That to lose one's way at night-time + Comes from fogs and drunken frolics. + Oh the spirit-shares stand badly! + On the highway I would rather + As a paving-stone be lying, + Than to be a third-class spirit, + Like the wood-sprite Meysenhartus." + + + Said the spirit: "Thou knowest nothing + Of all this, my noble fir-tree. + Meysenhartus and his brothers + O'er the globe rule powerfully; + Everywhere throughout creation + Are wrong tracks, and also people + Who upon these same paths wander. + And whenever, gay or mournful, + Someone goes upon a wrong track, + He has been by us deluded. + Let them doubt if there are spirits; + Still they are in our dominion. + And to-day you'll see me leading + Someone far astray to show him + That the spirits are in numbers." + From the hill came Master Werner. + Deeply musing o'er his love-dream + He had wandered through the forest, + And as far as man is happy + Here below, he was; and buoyant + Hope and joy his heart were filling. + Many burning thoughts were passing + Through his brain, as if they shortly + Into love-songs might be growing, + Just as caterpillars later + Into butterflies develop. + Homeward now he would be turning; + But the wood-sprite Meysenhartus + Hid with dust the right path from him, + And young Werner, absent-minded, + 'Stead of river-ward went inland. + Now again the wood-sprite grinning + Clambered to the fir-tree's summit, + Rocking gaily in the branches. + "He is caught!" so said he, mocking. + Werner paying no attention, + Went up through the Hasel valley, + Till he came to a steep mountain, + To a corner cool and shady. + Holly, sloe, and climbing ivy + Grew around the rocks luxuriant, + While near by a clear spring rippled. + + + Through the bushes stepped young Werner + To refresh himself by drinking. + Strongly tangled was the brushwood, + And upon it he trod firmly. + Then upon his ear broke squeaking + Wailing tones, as from a mole which + At his subterranean labour + Caught in traps and now detected, + Roughly is jerked up to daylight. + From the grass rose something crackling; + Lo, there stood a gray-clad pygmy, + Hardly three feet high, and hunchbacked; + But his face was clear and gentle, + And his odd small eyes looked clever. + Gracefully he let the long ends + Of his garment on the ground trail, + And said, limping: "Sir, you have been + Treading on my foot most rudely." + Said young Werner: "I am sorry." + Now the pygmy: "And what business + Have you in our vale at all?" + Said young Werner: "I by no means + Wish to seek for the acquaintance + Of such injudicious pygmies, + Who like grasshoppers are skipping, + And are asking silly questions." + Said the pygmy: "Thus ye all speak, + All ye rude and clumsy mortals; + Ever with your big feet tramping + Till the ground beneath you trembles. + And yet you are only clinging + To the surface like the chafers + Which are nestling in the tree-bark; + Thinking that you rule creation, + But entirely ignoring + All those spirits which, though silent, + On the heights, in depths, are working. + Oh ye rude and clumsy mortals! + Shut up proudly in your houses, + You are groaning with hard labour. + In the hot-house of your noddles + Are some plants called art and science, + And you even brag of such weeds. + By the lime-spar and rock-crystal! + You have much to learn, I tell you, + Ere the truth you will see dawning!" + + Said young Werner: "It is lucky + That to-day I feel so peaceful, + Else I should have taken pleasure + By your long gray beard to hang you + On the holly bushes yonder! + But my heart to-day is glowing + With the sunshine of my love-dreams, + Which you with your spars and crystals + Never can be comprehending. + Oh, to-day I could embrace all, + And be kind to everybody. + Say then who you are, and whether + I can be of any service." + + + 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." + + + Said young Werner: "I am ready." + Thereupon the little pygmy + From the rock pushed back some brushwood, + When appeared a small low passage. + "Light is needed here for mortals," + Said the gnome, who now was rubbing + Two hard flints, and soon had lighted + By the sparks a piece of pine-wood. + With this torch he went ahead then; + Werner followed, often stooping, + Often even well-nigh creeping, + For the rocks were nearly meeting. + Soon, however, widely opened + At the passage end a cavern + Of gigantic height and grandeur. + Slender columns there supported + Lofty arches of the ceiling; + From the walls the gray stalactites + Hung in various patterns twining, + Marvellous, yet graceful textures; + Some like tears which from the walls dropped, + Others like the richly twisted + Branches of gigantic corals. + An unearthly bluish colour + All throughout the space was glowing, + Mingled with the glaring torch-light + From the sharp-edged stones reflected. + From the depths a rushing sound rose + As from distant mountain-streams. + Werner gazed at all this splendour, + Felt as in a dream transported + To some strange and lofty temple, + And his heart was filled with awe. + + + "My young friend," now said the pygmy, + "Tell me, pray, what are you thinking + Of the gnome's secluded dwelling? + This is but a place for work-days. + Fairer ones far in the North lie, + Also in the Alpine caverns; + But Italia owns the fairest, + On the rocky shore of Capri, + In the Mediterranean Sea. + O'er the sea's blue waters rise up + The stalactites' lofty arches, + And the waves in the dark cavern + With blue magic light are gleaming, + And the tide protects the entrance. + The Italian gnomes there often + Bathe and frolic with the daughters + Of old Nereus, the sea-god, + And the sailor shuns the grotto. + But perhaps in later ages + May a sunday-child look in there, + Like thyself a travelling minstrel, + Or a merry-hearted artist. + But now, come, we must go farther!" + + + Downward stepped he with the torch-light + Ever farther, Werner saw how + Huge chaotic rocky masses + Lay in heaps of wild confusion, + Over which was rushing foaming, + To the bottomless abyss, a river. + Over steep and high rocks clambering, + They now entered a new passage. + It looked home-like, a large square-room, + Of high rocky walls constructed, + Fitted for a hermitage; + Round about stood slender columns. + Ever dropping from the ceiling + And through centuries increasing + Had stalactites slowly formed them; + And some others stood half finished + In the process of formation. + Now the gnome knocked on the columns, + And mysterious solemn tones rang + Out in deep harmonious rhythm. + "They are tuned," he said, "according + To the harmony of the spheres." + + + In this room a rock was lying. + Smooth and round, just like a table; + And there motionless and silent + Sat a man--looked as if sleeping, + Leaned his head upon his right hand. + Stony were his lordly features, + And the flame of life no longer + Played o'er them; and doubtless many + Tears had his sad eyes been shedding. + Petrified they now were hanging + In his beard and from his robes. + Werner gazed at him with terror + And he asked: "Is this a statue, + Or a man of flesh and blood?" + + + Said the gnome: "This is my guest here, + 'Tis the _silent man_, whom many + Years I've comfortably sheltered. + Once he was a proud old mortal, + And I found him in the valley, + And I offered then to show him + Where to find the nearest village. + But he shook his head and broke out + In a mocking scornful laughter. + Marvellously grand his words were, + Now like prayers devout and pious, + Like a psalm, such as we gnomes sing + Often in the earth's vast bowels; + Then like curses unto heaven. + Much I could not understand. + But it woke the recollections + Of the days of time primeval, + When the wild ferocious Titans + Rocks and mountains tore up o'er us + From their firm and deep foundations, + And we fled to greater depths. + For the man I felt great pity, + And I took him to my cavern; + And he liked it, when I showed him + All the gnomes' incessant labours; + And directly felt at home here. + Oft together have we listened + To the growing of stalactites, + Chatted also many evenings + Of the things below us hidden; + Only when my conversation + Turned to men, he grew quite angry; + Dark his frowns were, and he broke once + Seven columns in his fury. + When I wished to praise the sunlight + And the skies, he stopped me, saying: + 'Speak not of the sky or sunlight! + In the sunlight there above us + Snakes are creeping, and they sting one; + Men are living and they hate one; + Up there in the starry heavens + We see questions which are waiting + For an answer; who can give it?' + So he stayed here in the cavern, + And the grief which overwhelmed him + Was dissolved in tender sadness. + Oft I saw him gently weeping; + Oft, when a melodious wailing + Through the columns' hollow shafts rang, + He sat there, his sweet songs singing. + But he gradually grew silent. + Did I ask him what he wanted, + Then he smiling took my hand: + 'Gnome, I many songs can sing thee, + But the best I have not sung yet. + Will you know its name? 'Tis silence. + Silence--silence! oh how well one + Learns it here in thy deep cavern; + Depth creates true modesty. + But the cold is o'er me creeping; + Gnome! 'tis true, my poor heart freezes. + Gnome! dost thou know what true love is? + If for diamonds thou art digging, + And dost find them, take them with thee, + Guard them safely in thy cavern. + Gnome, thy heart will never freeze then!' + + + "These the last words he has spoken. + Now for years he has been silent + In this spot. He has not died yet + Nor is living, but his body + Slowly into stone is changing; + And I nurse him; heartfelt pity + For my silent guest I cherish, + Often try to cheer his spirit + With the columns' solemn music, + And I know it pleases him. + Without taking any freedom, + I think you too are a minstrel; + And the service you can do me + Is to play before my guest here." + + + Then young Werner took his trumpet + And began to play; his mournful + Strains were ringing through the cavern + As if breathing forth deep pity. + Then in thinking of his own love, + Through the sadness now there mingled + Strains of joy--first faint and distant, + Then came nearer--fresher, fuller, + And the last notes sounded like a + Glorious hymn on Easter morning. + And the silent man then listened, + Nodded gently with his head. + Fare-thee-well, dream on in peace, thou + Silent man, in thy still cavern, + Till the fulness comes of knowledge + And of love, to wake the sleeper. + + + Through the winding cave young Werner + With the gnome was now returning. + As the spacious dome they entered + A great rock the gnome uplifted. + Underneath a shrine was hidden, + And within were sparkling jewels, + Also writings and old parchments. + One pale amethyst, and papers + Which by age had turned quite yellow, + Gave the gnome now to young Werner, + Saying: "Take these as mementoes! + If the world above doth vex thee, + Here thou e'er wilt find a refuge. + But when wicked men are saying + That gnomes' feet are webbed like geese-feet, + Then, by lime-spar and rock-crystal! + Say that they are dreadful liars. + True, our soles are somewhat flattened; + But 'tis only a rude peasant + Who so cruelly maligns us. + Now good-bye, there is the outlet; + Take the pine-torch, light thyself now, + I have other things to do."-- + Spoke and crept into a crevice. + + + Musing through the narrow passage + Went young Werner, and his head struck + Oft against the rocky ceiling + Ere he reached again the daylight. + Peacefully the evening-bell rang + Through the vale as he went homeward. + + + + + ELEVENTH PART. + + THE HAUENSTEIN RIOT. + + + Through the Schwarzwald spreads a buzzing. + Buzzing as of bees when swarming, + As of the approaching storm-wind. + In the tavern savage fellows + Meet: their heavy fists are striking + On the table: "Bring me wine here! + Better times are now approaching + For this land of Hauenstein." + From the corn-loft brings the peasant + His old-fashioned rusty musket, + Which below the floor was hidden; + Fetches also the long halberd. + On the walnut-tree the raven + Harshly croaks: "Long have I fasted; + Soon I'll have meat for my dinner, + I shall relish thee, poor peasant!" + + + Now the people from the mountains. + Throng at Herrischried the market; + There the seat is of their union, + There they hold their union-meeting. + But to-day the Hauenstein peasants + Came not in black velvet doublets, + With red stomachers and white frills, + As was usually their custom. + Some had buckled on cuirasses, + Others wore their leather doublets; + In the breeze the flag was waving, + And the morning sun was shining + On their spears and thick spiked clubs. + Near the old church in the market + Stood the village elders, with the + Union-leader and mace-bearer. + "Silence, men!" the beadle shouted. + Silence reigned, and on the church-steps + Mounted then the peasants' speaker, + Holding an official paper, + Stroked his long gray beard, and said: + + + "Inasmuch as the hard war-time + Has much injured town and country, + And the debt is much augmented; + So to meet increased expenses + Our most gracious rulers hereby + Do exact new contributions; + Seven florins from each household, + And from all the bachelors two. + And next week the tax-collector + Comes to gather these new taxes. + So 'tis written in this paper." + --"Death upon the tax-collector! + May God damn him!" cried the people.-- + "Now as we ourselves have suffered + Quite enough by this sad war, and + Many lost their goods and chattels; + And because 'tis pledged in writing + As one of our privileges, + That there shall be no new taxes + E'er imposed upon this country, + Many this demand consider + As a most unjust extortion, + Think we should stand up most firmly + For our ancient rights by charter, + And should never pay a farthing." + --"Not a farthing!" cried the people.-- + "So we summoned you together + For your final resolution." + + + Like the distant surf their voices + Loudly roared in wild confusion: + "Come! stand up! speak out! We must now + Hear the Bergalingen Fridli. + He knows best--and all we others + Always are of his opinion." + Then stepped out the man thus called for, + And upon a big log mounting, + Spoke thus with a shrewd expression: + + + "Do you see at last, dull peasants, + What the end will be? Your fathers + Once gave up their little finger; + Now they want to seize the whole hand. + Only give it, and you'll soon see, + How they'll flay your very skin off! + Who can really thus compel us? + In his woods free lives the peasant, + Nothing but the sun above him. + So it stands in our old records, + In the statutes of our union: + Nothing there of rent and socage, + Nothing of a bondman's service! + But there's danger we shall have them. + Do you know what will protect us? + Yonder there the Swiss can tell you, + And the valiant Appenzellers. + This here!"--and he brandished fiercely + O'er his head his thick spiked club.-- + "On the fir-tree I heard piping + Lately a white bird at midnight: + Good old time, that bygone time, + Peasants, freemen in their forests; + If with spears and guns you seek it, + You will see it soon returning. + Now, Amen! my speech is ended." + + + Then wild cries rose from the people-- + "He is right" were many saying; + "To the devil with our rulers! + Burn these damned taxation-papers! + All these scribblers may look out soon + If this flame can be extinguished + With the fluid in their inkstands." + Said another: "Thou, oh governor, + Didst consign me to a dungeon; + Poor my fare, with only water! + Thou hast wine within thy cellar, + And I hope we now shall try it. + Yes, with thee I'll square accounts soon!" + Said a third one: "Thee my musket, + Which has brought down many woodcocks, + I shall use for nobler sport soon. + Then hit well! For we'll be shooting + At the great black double eagle." + Thus a murmur through the crowd went. + Just as when the plague is raging, + Everywhere infection spreadeth, + So were all the peasants' hearts now + Filled with passion and blind wrath. + And in vain spoke the experienced + Villaringen elder, Balthes: + + + "If a horse's tail is bridled, + Not his mouth, no one can drive him. + If the peasant seeks for justice + By revolt, all will go badly; + In the end he gets a thrashing. + Hence of old we were commanded + To obey the ruling powers, + And--" but now in voluntary + Was he stopped in his sage counsels: + "Turn him out, this old fool Balthes! + May God damn him! He is faithless; + He's a traitor to his country!" + Thus they howled out, stones were flying, + Spears were threatening, and his friends could + Hardly get him off in safety. + + + "To be short, what use of speaking?" + Fridli said, of Bergalingen. + "Who are faithful to our old rights + And will go for them to battle, + Raise their hands high!" And they raised them + All, while loud hurrahs they shouted. + Arms are clanking, flags are waving, + Battle-cries--the drums are beating. + And that day large bands were marching + From the hills toward the river + To attack the forest-cities. + + + In the forest from the fir-tree + Looked the wood-sprite Meysenhartus, + Mocking at the peasants' army, + Said: "A lucky journey to you! + No need I should now mislead you, + As you choose yourselves the wrong track!" + + + Scouts are riding, watchmen blowing, + Women wailing, children crying; + Through the vale rings the alarm-bell. + Burghers through the streets are running: + "Close the gates! Defend the town-walls! + Bring the guns up to the tower!" + From the terrace saw the Baron + This commotion in the forest, + How the mountain-paths were darkened + By the peasant-bands descending. + "Am I dreaming," said he, "or have + All these men indeed forgotten, + How a hundred and fifty years since + Such mad peasants' jokes were punished? + Yes, indeed, the forest glitters + With their helmets and their halberds. + Well devised, you cunning peasants! + While below there on the Danube + The proud eagle of the emperor + Lets the Turks feel his sharp talons, + You think that it will be easy, + On the Rhine to pluck his feathers! + Look out well that this your reckoning + Won't deceive you; and I swear here, + The old Baron will not fail to + Greet you with a warm reception." + + + Turned and went into the castle, + And he donned his leathern doublet, + Buckled on the heavy broadsword, + And gave orders to the household: + "Quickly get your weapons ready, + Keep good watch upon the towers, + Raise the drawbridge, and let no one, + While I am away, here enter! + Master Werner, you may order + All the rest. Protect my castle, + And my daughter, my chief treasure! + Have no fear, dear Margaretta; + Brave must be a soldier's child. + Only some few coal-black ravens + Come there flying from the forest, + Want to get their skulls well battered + 'Gainst the walls of this good city. + God preserve you! I myself go + To my post, up to the town-hall." + + + Margaretta threw herself now + In the Baron's arms, who kindly + Pressed upon her brow fond kisses. + Shaking Werner's hand then warmly + He walked off unto the square. + + + There the ladies of the convent + Wailing went up to the minster: + "Show us mercy, Fridolinus!" + By his door the "Button" landlord + Asked the Baron: "Is it time now, + That we put our gold and silver + In the cellar's deepest places?" + Said the Baron: "Shame upon you! + It is time to take your weapons + And to help defend the city. + Show the same zeal as when fishing!" + + + In the town-hall were assembled + Councillors and burgomaster. + Many of the city-fathers + Made wry faces, as though fearing + The last judgment-day was coming. + On their hearts their sins were pressing + Like a hundredweight; they cried out: + "Save us, God, from this great evil, + And we'll promise all our lifetime + Ne'er to take unlawful interest, + Never to defraud the orphan, + Ne'er to mix sand with our spices." + Even one proposed this motion: + "Let us send out to these peasants + Meat and wine in great abundance, + Also of doubloons some dozens, + That from hence they may depart; + They in Waldshut may look out then, + How they drive away these fellows." + + + Now the Baron came among them: + "My good sirs! I do believe you + Hang your heads. To work now bravely! + When the Swedes the town beleagured, + Then 'twas grave, but this is only + Child's play. Surely you have always + Liked to hear and make good music; + So the booming guns will please you. + Let the orchestra strike up now! + And these fellows, when they hear you, + Homeward soon will all go dancing, + E'er the emperor's own detachment + Plays for them the grand finale." + + + Thus he spoke. In times of terror + Oft a brave word at the right time + Can work wonders; many cowards + From example drink in courage; + And one single iron will leads + Oft along the wavering masses. + Thus the council looked up strengthened + To the Baron's gray moustaches. + "Yes, this is just our opinion, + We'll defend our city bravely, + And the Baron shall command us; + For he knows well how to do it. + Death to all these cursed peasants!" + Through the streets th' alarm is sounded + To the town-gate, where a narrow + Dam leads on to terra firma, + Ran well armed the younger people. + On the bastion stood commanding + Fludribus, the fresco-painter, + Who had there assembled round him + Some young lads who with great effort + An old gun were hauling up there. + Smiling looked at them the Baron, + But great Fludribus said gravely: + "Devotees of art can boast of + Stores of universal knowledge. + Let them have a chance, and they will + Rule the state as well as armies. + My keen eye sees well there's danger + In this spot; and as Cellini + From the Castle of St Angelo + Shot the constable of France once. + So--alas at foes inferior-- + Cannonades here Fludribus." + + + "Only do not kill them all off!" + Said the Baron; "and be sure first + To get balls enough and powder; + For, the gun you there are dragging + Will not be of use without them!" + + + To the Rhine-bank came the peasants + In great crowds, and looked up growling + At the high walls of the city + And the well-closed city-gate. + "In his den the fox is hiding, + He has barred his hole most firmly, + But the peasants will unearth him," + Fridli said, of Bergalingen. + "Forward! I will be your leader!" + Drums were beating the assault now, + Heavy muskets cracking loudly; + Through the powder-smoke ran shouting + All these hordes against the town-gate. + On the walls to best advantage + Had the Baron placed his forces; + And was tranquilly then looking + At the crowd of wild assaulters. + "'Tis to be regretted," thought he, + "That such strength is idly wasted. + Out of these strong country lubbers + One might form a splendid regiment." + His command is heard: "Now fire!" + The assaulters then were welcomed + With a well-aimed thundering volley, + And they fled in all directions; + Like a swarm of crows dispersing, + When the hail-shot flies among them. + + + And not few of them had fallen. + 'Neath an apple-tree was lying + By the shore one who spoke feebly + To a comrade passing by him: + "Greet from me my poor old mother, + Also my Verena Frommherz. + Say, she can with a good conscience + Marry the tall Uickerhans now. + For, poor Seppli here is staining + The white sand with his true heart's blood!" + + + Whilst this happened by the town-gate, + Some were trying if the city + Could be entered by a back-way. + On the Rhine below were lying + Fishing-boats beside a cabin, + Where in traps they caught the salmon. + There another crowd streamed onward. + An audacious lad from Karsau + Led them; for, he knew each byway + Near the river, and had often + Many fish at night-time stolen + From the nets of other people. + In three fishing-boats, well manned, thence + Were they rowing up the river. + Willow-trees and heavy brushwood, + And a bend there in the river + Saved them from discovery. + Where the garden of the castle + On arched walls is far projecting + O'er the Rhine, they stopped their barges, + And quite easy was the landing. + + + On the roof of the pavilion + Which once Fludribus had painted + Sat the black cat Hiddigeigei. + With surprise the worthy cat saw + Spear-heads far below him glistening; + Saw a man, too, upward climbing + On the stone wall, tightly holding + With his teeth a shining sabre; + And how others followed after. + Growling said then Hiddigeigei: + "Best for a wise cat it would be + Ever to remain quite neutral + To man's foolish acts of daring; + But I hate these boorish peasants, + Hate the smell of cows and stables. + If they triumph, woe to Europe; + For, it would destroy completely + The fine atmosphere of culture. + Now look out below, you fellows! + Since the geese by cries of warning + Saved the Capitol of Rome once, + Animals are taking interest + In the history of the world." + + + Up he sprang in furious anger, + Curved his back, his hair all bristling, + And commenced a caterwauling + Fit to take away one's hearing. + + + On the jutting turret standing. + Faithful Anton heard this wauling, + And involuntarily looking + Toward that way: "Good heaven!" said he, + "In the garden is the enemy." + Quick his signal-shot brought other + Men-at-arms, along with Werner, + Who placed quickly his few fighters: + "Stand thou here--thou there--don't hurry + With your fire!" His heart beat wildly: + "Ha, my sword, maintain thy valour!" + Shallow was the castle's moat then, + Well-nigh dry, and 'mid the rushes + Glisten many swords and spear-heads. + Daring men are climbing upward + O'er the tower's crumbling stone-work. + Muskets cracking, arrows flying. + Axe-strokes 'gainst the gate are ringing, + Everywhere attack, and shouting: + "Castle thou wilt soon be taken!" + And between, the fall of bodies + In the moat is heard--much blood flows. + By the gate cries out young Werner: + "Well done, Anton! Now take aim at + That dark fellow on thy left hand; + I'll attend unto the other. + Steady now! They are retreating!" + + + Thus the first attack proved fruitless, + And with bloody heads drew back now + The assaulters, seeking shelter, + 'Midst the chestnut-trees' dense thicket. + Scornful words now reach the castle: + "Coward knights, faint-hearted servants, + Keep behind the walls, protected. + Just come out to honest combat + If you've courage." "Death and Devil!" + Werner shouted. "Let the bridge down! + Spears at rest! Now onward!--Mock us? + In the Rhine with these damned scoundrels!" + + + Down the bridge fell rattling loudly; + Far ahead went Werner rushing, + Right into the crowd; ran over + Just the fellow who did guide them. + "When the sword gets dull, thou rascal, + With my fist alone I'll kill thee." + In the crowd he sees a sturdy + Soldier, with a weather-beaten + Face, bold and defiant-looking. + He had served with Wallenstein once, + And now fought for these mean peasants + From mere love of strife and bloodshed. + "Taste my steel now, gray old warrior," + Cried young Werner, as his sword swung + Whizzing through the air to strike him. + But the soldier's halberd parried + Werner's stroke: "Not badly done, lad! + Here my answer!" Blood was dripping + From young Werner's locks; his forehead + Showed a deep wound from the halberd. + But the one who swung it, never + Gave a second stroke; his own throat, + Where by armour not protected, + Being cut by Werner's weapon. + Three steps backward then he staggered + Sinking: "Devil, stir thy fire! + Hast me now!" Dead lay the soldier. + + + Werner, thy young life guard well now! + Raging were the peasants, thronging + In great crowds around this handful. + 'Gainst a chestnut-tree now leaning + Weak, but still his life defending, + Stood young Werner; round him rallied, + Brave and faithful, all the servants. + Save him, God! The wound is bleeding, + From his hand the sword falls slowly, + Dimmed his eyes are, and the enemy + At his gory breast is aiming. + Then--all may go well yet-- + From the castle rings distinctly, + As if for a charge, the trumpet; + Then a shot--one falls; a volley + Follows. "Onward!" so the Baron + Now commands, and wildly flying + Tear the peasants to the Rhine. + Cheer up, Werner, friends are coming, + And with them comes Margaretta! + When the fight below was raging, + To the terrace she ascended, + And she blew--herself not knowing + Why she did it--in the anguish + Of her soul, the battle signal + Used in the Imperial army. + Which she'd learned in happy moments + In the honeysuckle-arbour. + It was heard by those returning + With the Baron from the town-gate; + And the maiden's war-cry made them + Hurry quickly to the rescue + Of those fighting in the garden. + Woman's heart, so gentle, timid, + What gave thee such courage then? + + + "God, he lives!" she bent now softly + Over him who 'neath the chestnuts + There on the green sward was lying, + Stroked the fair locks, lank and bloody, + From his brow: "Hast fought right bravely!" + Half unconscious gazed young Werner; + Did he then behold a vision? + Closed his eyes, and on two muskets + To the castle he was borne. + + + + + TWELFTH PART. + + YOUNG WERNER AND MARGARETTA. + + + In the castle's chapel dimly + Was a flickering lamp-light burning, + Shining on the altar-picture, + Whence the Queen of Heaven looked down + With a gracious pitying smile, + 'Neath the picture hung fresh gathered + Roses and geranium-garlands. + Kneeling there prayed Margaretta: + "Sorely tried one, full of mercy! + Thou who givest us protection, + Care for him who badly wounded + Lies now on a bed of anguish; + And bestow on me forgiveness + If thou thinkst it very sinful + That he fills my thoughts alone." + + + Hope and trust their light were shedding + In her heart as thus she prayed. + And more cheerful Margaretta + Now ascended up the staircase. + On the threshold of the sick-room + Was the gray old doctor standing, + And he beckoned her to come there. + Judging what most likely would be + The first question she would ask him, + He then said with voice half muffled: + "Fear no more, my gracious lady; + Fresh young blood and youthful vigour + From such wounds not long can suffer, + And already gentle slumber, + Messenger of health, doth soothe him. + He to-day can take an airing." + Spoke and left; for, his attention + Many wounded men were craving, + And he hated useless gossip. + + + Softly entered Margaretta + Now the sick-room of young Werner, + Bashful and yet curious whether + All was true the doctor told her. + Gently slumbering lay young Werner, + Pale in youthful beauty, looking + Like a statue. As if dreaming, + He lay holding, o'er his forehead + And his healing wound, his right hand, + As one who from glaring sunlight + Wishes to protect his eyes; + Round his lips a smile was playing. + + + Long on him gazed Margaretta-- + Long and longer. Thus in old times + In the forest of Mount Ida + Gazed the goddess, fair Diana, + On Endymion the sleeper. + Pity held her eye a captive; + Ah, and pity is a fruitful + Soil for love's sweet plant to grow in. + From a tiny seed 'tis spreading + In this ground so rich and fertile, + Which it permeates completely + With its thousand fibrous rootlets. + + + Thrice already Margaretta + To the door her way had wended, + But as many times returning + She at last approached the bedside. + On the table stood a cooling + Potion, medicines in bottles; + But she neither touched the cooling + Potion nor the other bottles. + Timidly she bent there o'er him, + Timidly and hardly breathing, + Lest her breath might wake the sleeper. + Long she gazed at his closed eyelids + And involuntarily stooping, + With her lips--But who interprets + All the strange mysterious actions + Of a first sweet loving passion? + Well-nigh can my song conjecture + That she really wished to kiss him; + But she did not; startled sighing, + Turned abruptly--like a timid + Fawn she hurried from the chamber. + + + Like a man who, long accustomed + To the gloom and damp of dungeons, + Seems bewildered when beholding, + For the first time free fair Nature: + "Hast thou not, O sun, grown brighter? + Has the sky not deeper colours?" + And his eyes are nearly dazzled + By the light so long denied him: + Thus returns the convalescent + Once again to life and vigour. + Fresher, warmer, rosier visions + Rise before his raptured glances, + Which he greets with fond rejoicing. + "World, how fair thou art!" was also + Dropping from the lips of Werner, + As on the broad steps he slowly + Now descended to the garden. + Leaning on his staff, he stood long + Quiet, basking in the sunbeams + Playing o'er the fragrant flowers, + Drew a long breath, and then slowly + Stepped upon the garden-terrace. + On the stone-seat in the sunshine + He sat down now. Bees were humming, + Butterflies were lightly flying + 'Mid the verdant chestnut-branches, + Out and in, like tavern-goers. + Green, pellucid, gently rushing, + Bore the Rhine its waters onward; + And a pine-raft filled with people, + Snake-like, swiftly sped toward Basel. + Near the shore, up to his knees stood + In the river there a fisher, + Singing gently to himself thus: + + + "Peasant comes with spears and muskets, + Peasant storms the forest-city, + Peasant will now fight with Austria: + Peasant! you will find that will + Make much heavier the bill; + Take your purse and pay the joke! + Seven florins seemed too much then, + One-and-twenty must thou pay now. + Soldiers quartered are dear guests too; + Then the plaisters from the surgeons: + Peasant! you will find that will + Make much heavier the bill; + Take your purse and pay the joke!" + + + Gaily gazed young Werner o'er the + Lovely landscape and the river; + But he stopped his contemplations. + On the wall with sunlight flooded + He beheld a shadow gliding, + As of curls and flowing garments-- + Well did Werner know this shadow. + Through the shrubbery came smiling + Margaretta; she was watching + Hiddigeigei's graceful gambols, + Who then in the garden-arbour + With a wee white mouse was playing. + With his velvet paws he held it + Tight, and like a gracious sovereign + Looked down on his trembling captive. + + + From his seat rose up young Werner + Bowing lowly and with reverence. + Over Margaretta's cheeks spread + Ever-changing rosy blushes. + "Master Werner, may God bless you, + And how are you? You were silent + Such a long time, so with pleasure + Shall I hear your voice once more." + + + "Since my forehead made acquaintance + Lately with the enemy's halberd, + Hardly knew I," answered Werner, + "Where my life and thoughts had flown to. + O'er me lay thick clouds of darkness; + But to-day in dreams an angel + To my side descended, saying: + Thou art well, arise, be happy + That thou hast thy health recovered + And it was so. With a firm step + Thus far have I come already." + Now again fair Margaretta's + Cheeks were like the blush of morning. + When the dream young Werner mentioned, + Bashfully she turned her head; then + Playfully she interrupted: + "I suppose you are now looking + At the battle-field; indeed it + Proved a hot day, and I fancy + Still I hear the roar of battle: + Do you still recall, you stood there + By yon tree, and there a dead man + Lay beneath those blooming elders? + Where the gossamer so lightly + Through the air in threads is flying, + Spears and halberds then were glittering. + There, where still you see the traces + Of fresh plaster on the stone-wall, + Broke those peasants through when flying. + And, my good sir, over yonder + Then my father loudly scolded, + That a certain person headlong + Had into such danger plunged." + + + "Death and--but forgive, my lady. + That well-nigh I swore," said Werner. + "They were mocking us; and others, + If they please, may keep their temper. + When I hear such stinging speeches, + Then my heart burns, my fist clenches: + Fight! no other means I know of; + Fight I must, e'en should the whole world + Go to atoms with a crash. + Through my veins there flows no fish-blood; + And to-day, though somewhat feeble, + In the same case, I should stand there + By the chestnut-tree again." + + + "Wicked man," said Margaretta, + "That a fresh stroke from a halberd + Should be crossing your old scar, and + That--but do you know who suffered + Keenly for your daring conduct? + Do you know whose tears were flowing? + Would you once more give the order: + Lower drawbridge! if I begged you: + Werner stay and do remember + The poor suffering Margaretta? + If I--," but she was not able + Further to spin out her sentence. + What the mouth spoke not, the eyes said; + What the eyes said not, the heart did. + Dreamily young Werner lifted + Unto her his raptured gaze: + "Am I dying, or is doubly + My young life to me now given?" + In each other's arms they flew then, + Sought each other's lips with ardour, + And transported, pressed upon them + Love's first kiss, so sweet and blissful. + Golden-purple streamed the sunlight + Through the shady trees' high summits, + Down upon two happy beings-- + On young Werner's pallid features, + On the lovely blushing maiden. + + + Love's first kiss so sweet and blissful! + Thinking of thee, joy and sorrow + Both steal o'er me; joy, that also + I have once thy nectar tasted, + Sorrow, that but once we taste it! + For thy sake I wished to cull from + Language, all the fairest flowers, + For a wreath unto thine honour; + But, instead of words rose visions + Clear before me, and they led me + Far to float o'er time and space. + First I soared to Eden's garden, + When the new-born world was lying + In its pristine youthful freshness, + When its age by days was reckoned. + Evening came, a rosy light spread + O'er the sky, while in the river's + Waves the sun to rest sank slowly; + On the shore, in merry frolic, + Graceful animals were playing. + Through the shady paths 'neath palm-trees + The first human couple walked. + Wide through space they gazed in silence, + 'Mid the holy peace of evening; + In each other's eyes they looked then, + And their lips did meet. + Then I saw before me rising. + Visions of quite different aspect; + Dark the sky, rain-storm and lightning, + Mountains bursting, from the dark depths + Foaming waters rushing upward. + Flooded over is the ancient + Mother Earth, and she is dying. + To the cliffs the waves are rolling, + To the old man and his consort, + To the two last living mortals. + Now a flash--I saw them smiling, + Then embracing, without speaking, + Ever kissing. Night then--roaring, + Did the flood engulf these beings. + This I saw, and well I know now, + That a kiss outweighs all language, + Is, though mute, love's song of songs. + And when words fail, then the singer + Should be silent; therefore silent + He returns now to the garden. + On the stone steps of the terrace + Lay the worthy Hiddigeigei; + And with great amazement saw he, + How his mistress and young Werner + Were each other fondly kissing. + Grumbling said he to himself then: + "Often have I meditated + On great problems hard to settle, + Which my cat-heart fully fathomed; + But there's one which yet remaineth + Quite unsolved, uncomprehended: + Why do people kiss each other? + Not from hatred, not from hunger, + Else they'd bite and eat each other; + Neither can it be an aimless + Nonsense, for they are in general + Wise, and know well what they're doing. + Why then is it, I ask vainly, + Why do people kiss each other? + Why do mostly so the youthful? + And why mostly so in Spring-time? + Over all these knotty questions, + I intend to ponder further, + On the gable-roof to-morrow." + + + Margaretta plucked some roses, + Took then Werner's hat, and gaily + With the fairest ones adorned it. + "Poor pale man, till there are blooming + On your own cheeks just such roses, + On your hat you'll have to wear them. + But now tell me, wherefore is it + That I do so dearly love you? + Not a word you ere have spoken, + That could show me that you loved me. + Sometimes only shy and bashful + Did you raise at me your glances, + And sometimes you played before me. + Is it, then, your country's custom, + That a woman's love is won there, + Without words by trumpet-blowing?" + + + "Margaretta, sweetest darling," + Said young Werner, "could I venture? + You appeared to me so saint-like, + In your flowing, snow-white garments. + At the feast of Fridolinus. + 'Twas your glance which made me enter + In your noble father's service; + And your favour was the sunshine + Which my daily life illumined. + Ah! there by the mountain-lake once, + On my head was placed a garland. + 'Twas love's crown of thorns you gave me, + And in silence I have worn it. + Could I speak, O could the homeless + Trumpeter his yearnings utter + Boldly to fair Margaretta? + Unto you as to an angel, + Who is guarding us poor mortals + Did I look in silent worship, + And I wished in your dear service + Here to die beneath the chestnuts. + From that fate you have preserved me, + Unto life and health restored me, + Made my life now doubly precious, + As I know your love adorns it. + Take me then! Since you did give me + That first burning kiss, I only + Live through you, belong to you now, + Margaretta--ever thine!" + + + "Thine, yes, thine," said Margaretta; + "What stiff barriers are erected + By our words! Belong to you now-- + What a solemn cold expression. + Ever thine! 'tis thus love speaketh. + No more you; _thou_, heart to heart pressed, + Lips to lips, that is his language; + Therefore, Werner, let another + Kiss now seal it"--and their lips met. + In the sky the moon first shineth, + Then by countless stars is followed; + So the first kiss, when once given, + Is by hosts of others followed. + But how many were by stealth robbed + And paid duly back with interest, + All this doth my song keep secret. + Poetry and dry statistics + Are, alas, not on good terms. + Also Anton came now hurrying + Through the garden with a message: + "The three ladies from the convent, + Who the first of May went with us + To the fishing, send their greeting + To your gracious ladyship, and + Also make most kind inquiries + For the health of Master Werner, + Who, they trust, will soon amend." + + + + + THIRTEENTH PART. + + WERNER SUES FOR MARGARETTA. + + + Night, how long and full of terror! + When thou bring'st not to the weary + With thy shades refreshing slumber, + And sweet dreams to comfort him. + Restlessly his thoughts are delving + In the past's great heaps of rubbish, + Where they rake up many fragments + Of his former life, and nowhere + Can his eyes abide with pleasure; + Only gloomy spectres rise up, + Which the sunlight soon would banish. + Unrefreshed, next to the future + Roves the mind from which sweet sleep flies; + Forges plans, takes resolutions, + Builds up proud and airy castles; + But like owls and bats are flying + All around them hosts of doubts which + Drive away all hope and courage. + + + From the tower-clock struck midnight. + On his couch was lying sleepless + Werner in the turret-chamber; + Through the window beaming faintly + Fell a narrow ray of moonlight, + While beneath the Rhine did rush. + And the sleepless brain of Werner + Is by dream-like visions haunted. + Once it seemed to him like Sunday; + Bells are pealing, horses neighing, + Toward the Schwarzwald goes a wedding, + He walks at the head as bridegroom, + By his side is Margaretta; + And she wears a wreath of myrtle. + In the village loud rejoicings, + And the roads and village street are + All with flowers overstrewn. + In his priestly robes is standing + By the church-door the old Pastor + Blessing, beckoning him to enter-- + But the vision's thread broke off here + For a new one: He imagined + At the door there was a knocking; + And now enters the odd figure + Of his dear old friend Perkéo, + With his red nose shining brightly + In the dimly-lighted chamber; + And he speaks with husky voice thus: + "Oh, my lad, with love don't meddle! + Love's a fire which consumeth + Him who kindles it, completely; + And thou art no charcoal-burner! + Come then home to the clear Neckar, + Come with me to my old wine-tun, + Which contains good stuff sufficient + All thy love-flames to put out." + + + Next he seems to be transported + To an Eastern field of battle. + Cries of Allah, sabres whirring; + And he soon strikes down a Pashaw + From his horse, and brings the crescent + To the general, Prince Eugene, + Who then claps him on the shoulder: + "Well done, my Imperial captain!" + From the battle-field his dreaming + Flies back to the days of childhood, + And his nurse sings in the garden: + "Squirrel climbs up on the blackthorn, + Squirrel goes up to the tree-top, + Squirrel falls into his grave. + Had he not so high ascended, + Then his fall had been less heavy, + Had not broken then his leg." + + + Thus disturbed by all this dreaming, + Werner sprang up of a sudden, + With long strides walked through his chamber; + And his mind was troubled always + By the same portentous question: + "Shall I ask the Baron for her?" + Love well-nigh appeared to him now + Just like stolen fruit; he felt that, + Like a thief, before the day broke, + He had better leave the castle. + But just then the sun was rising, + With the beauty of a bridegroom + In the blush of early morning. + "Be ashamed, my heart, great coward! + Yes, I'll ask him," cried young Werner. + + + At his breakfast sat the Baron + Poring deeply o'er a letter + Which the day before was brought him + By a messenger from Suabia, + From the Danube; where through narrow + Valleys the young stream is flowing, + And steep limestone rocks are rising + From the water which reflects them + With their verdant crowns of beech-trees; + Thence the man had come on horseback. + And the letter read as follows: + + + "Does my comrade still remember + His old Hans von Wildenstein? + Down the Rhine and Danube many + Drops of water have been flowing, + Since we in that war together + Lay before the bivouac-fire; + And I see it by my son's growth, + Who is now a strapping fellow-- + Four-and-twenty years he reckons. + First a page unto his highness + The Grand Duke of Würtemberg; + Then to Tübingen I sent him. + If I by his debts can judge well, + Which I had to pay for him there, + He must have vast stores of knowledge. + Now he stays with me at home, at + Wildenstein; is hunting stags here, + Hunting foxes, hares and rabbits; + But sometimes the rascal even + Hunts the peasants' pretty daughters. + So 'tis time to think of taming + Him beneath the yoke of marriage. + If I err not, you, my friend, have + Just a daughter suited for him. + With old comrades 'tis the custom + Not to beat around the bush, but + Go straight forward to the business. + So I ask you, shall my Damian + Start upon a tour of courtship + To your castle on the Rhine? + Answer soon. Receive the greetings + Of thy Hans von Wildenstein! + "Postscript: Do you still remember + That great brawl we had at Augsburg, + And the rage of wealthy Fugger, + The ill-humour of his ladies, + Two-and-thirty years ago?" + + + With great effort tried the Baron + His friend's writing to decipher. + Spent a good half-hour upon it + Ere he came to its conclusion. + Smiling said he then: "A Suabian + Is a devil of a fellow. + One and all they are unpolished. + And coarse-grained is their whole nature; + But within their square-built noddles + Lie rich stores of clever cunning. + Many stupid brainless fellows + Might from them obtain supplies. + Truly my old Hans now even + In old age is calculating + Like the best diplomatist. + For, his much encumbered, rotten + Owl's-nest out there on the Danube, + Would be well propped up and rescued + By a good rich marriage-portion. + Still his plan is worth considering; + For, the name of Wildenstein is + Well known all throughout the Empire, + Since they followed as crusaders + In the train of Barbarossa. + Let the younker try his chance then!" + + + Werner with most solemn aspect, + Dressed in black, the room now entered; + Sadness lay on his pale features. + In good humour spoke the Baron: + "I was wishing just to see you, + For I want you to be ready + With your pen, and as my faithful + Secretary write a letter, + And a letter of importance. + There's a knight who lives in Suabia + Questioning me about my daughter; + Asks her hand from me in marriage + For his son, the younker Damian. + Write him then, how Margaretta + Daily grows in grace and beauty; + How she--but I need not tell you. + Think you are an artist--sketch then + With your pen a life-like, faithful + Portrait, not a jot forgetting. + Also write, to his proposal + I do offer no objection, + And the younker, if he pleases, + May come here and try his fortune." + + + "May come here and try his fortune," + Said young Werner, as if dreaming, + Mumbling to himself--when grimly + Said the Baron: "What's the matter? + You have now as long a visage + As a protestant old preacher + On Good Friday. Is the fever + Coming once again to plague you?" + Gravely answered him young Werner: + "I, my lord, can't write that letter, + You must find another penman; + For, I come myself as suitor, + Come to ask you for your daughter." + + + "Come--to ask you--for your daughter!" + In his turn now said the Baron + To himself--he made a wry mouth + As one playing on the Jew's-harp, + And he felt a sudden twitching + In his foot from his old enemy + Podagra, and gravely said: + "My young friend, your brain is truly + Still affected with the fever. + Hurry quickly to the garden; + There stands in the shade a fountain, + There is flowing clear cool water; + If you dip your head thrice in it + Then your fever soon will cool." + + + "Noble lord," now answered Werner, + "Spare your jokes, for you may better + Use them, when the noble younker + Comes here from the land of Suabia. + Calm and free from any fever + Have I on this step decided, + And to Margaretta's father + I repeat the same petition." + + + Darkly frowning said the Baron: + "Do you want to hear from me then + What your own good sense should tell you? + Most unwillingly I hurt you + With harsh words; I've not forgotten + That the wound upon your forehead, + Hardly healed yet, you received here + By your ardour in my service. + He who ventures as a suitor + For my daughter first must show me + That he comes of noble lineage. + Nature has set up strict barriers + Round us all with prescient wisdom, + To us all our sphere assigning, + Wherein we the best may prosper. + In the Holy Roman Empire + Is each rank defined most clearly-- + Nobles, commoners, and peasants. + If they keep within their circle, + From themselves their race renewing, + They'll remain then strong and healthy. + Each is then just like a column, + Which supports the whole; but never + Should these classes mix together. + Do you know the consequences? + Our descendants would have something + Of each class, and yet be nothing-- + Shallow, good-for-nothing mongrels, + Tossed about, because uprooted + From the soil of old tradition. + Firm, exclusive must a man be; + And his course of life already + Must be inborn, an inheritance + Coming down through generations. + Hence our custom does require + Equal rank when people marry; + And I hold as law this custom; + I shall not allow a stranger + To o'erleap this solid barrier, + And no trumpeter shall therefore + Ever woo a noble lady." + + + Thus the Baron. With great labour + Had he put the words together + Of this solemn and unusual + Theoretical discourse. + Meanwhile Hiddigeigei lying + There, behind the stove, was listening. + At the end assent he nodded, + But in thoughtful meditation + Raised his paw up to his forehead, + Reasoning to himself as follows: + "Why do people kiss each other? + Never shall I solve this question! + I did think at last I'd solved it, + Thought that kisses might be useful + As a means to stop one's talking, + And prevent one from declaiming + Bitter stinging words of truth. + But, alas, now this solution + Seems, I must confess, erroneous; + Else young Werner long before this + Would have kissed my good old master." + + + To the Baron said young Werner, + And his voice was growing hollow: + "Much I thank you for this lesson. + 'Midst the fir-trees of the mountains, + By the green waves of the river, + In the sunlight of the May-time, + Has my eye been overlooking + All these barriers of custom. + Thanks, that you have thus recalled them. + Also, thanks for all your kindness, + Shown to me while on the Rhine. + Now my time is up, the meaning + Of your words I thus interpret: + 'Right about face!' I go gladly. + As a suitor fully equal + I shall here return, or never. + Be not angry then--farewell!" + Spoke, and from the room departed, + And he knew what must be done now. + At the door with troubled glances + Still a long while gazed the Baron: + "I am really sad," he muttered, + "Wherefore is this brave youth's name not + Damian von Wildenstein?" + + + Parting, parting, dismal moment! + Who first ever did invent it? + Surely 'twas a wicked man, far + In the Polar Sea, and freezing + Round his nose the polar wind blew; + And his shaggy, jealous consort, + Plagued him, so he no more relished + The sweet comfort of the train-oil. + O'er his head he drew a yellow, + Furry sealskin, and then waving + With his fur-protected right hand, + To his Ylaleyka spoke he + First this harsh and mournful sentence: + "Fare-thee-well, from thee I'm parting!" + + + Parting, parting, dismal moment! + In his turret-chamber Werner, + Was now tying bag and baggage. + Fastening up his travelling knapsack: + Greets the walls of his snug chamber + For the last time, for they seemed then + Just like good old friends and comrades. + + + Only these he took farewell of; + Margaretta's eyes he could not + For the world then have encountered. + To the court-yard he descended, + Quickly his good horse he saddled. + Hoofs then clatter; a sad rider + Rode forth from the castle's precincts. + + + In the low ground by the river + Stood a walnut-tree; once more there + Now he halted with his horse, + And once more took up his trumpet; + From his overburdened soul then + His farewell rang to the castle-- + Rang out; don't you know the swan's song, + When with death's foreboding o'er him + Out into the lake he's swimming? + Through the rushes, through the snow-white + Water-lilies, rings his death-song: + "Lovely world, I now must leave thee; + Lovely world I die reluctant!" + + + Thus he blew there. Were those tears which + Glistened brightly on his trumpet, + Or some rain-drops which had fallen? + Onward now; the sharp spurs quickly + In the horse's flanks he presses, + And is flying at full gallop + Round the forest's farthest edge. + + + + + FOURTEENTH PART. + + THE BOOK OF SONGS. + + + Werner went to distant countries, + Margaretta's heart was blighted; + Some few years will now pass over + Ere the two are reunited. + + + But, meanwhile, abrupt transitions + Are not to my taste, I own; + So with songs, like wreaths of flowers, + Shall this gap be overstrewn. + + + + YOUNG WERNER'S SONGS. + + I. + + The moment when I saw thee first, + Struck dumb, I stood there dreaming, + My thoughts ran into harmonies, + Which through my heart were streaming. + + + So here I stand, poor trumpeter, + And on the sward am blowing; + In words I cannot tell my love, + In music it is flowing. + + + II. + + The moment when I saw thee first, + The sixth of March, like lightning, + Came quickly from the azure sky + A flash, my heart igniting. + + + It burn'd up all that dwelt therein, + A dire destruction bringing, + But from the ruins, ivy-like, + My loved one's name was springing. + + + III. + + Turn not thy timid glance away, + To hide what there doth glisten; + Come to the terrace, while I play, + And to my music listen. + + + In vain your efforts to escape, + I still continue blowing; + With magic speed my tunes take shape + Into a ladder growing. + + + On these sweet tones' melodious rounds + Love gently is ascending; + Through bolt and lock still pierce the sounds + Which I to thee am sending. + + + Turn not thy timid glance away, + To hide what there doth glisten; + Come to the terrace while I play, + And to my music listen. + + + IV. + + A merry piece I blew on the shore, + How clear my trumpet was pealing! + Above the storm the tones did soar + Up to the castle stealing. + + + The water-nymph on her crystal couch + Hears music through the wild roaring; + She rises up to listen well + To a human heart's outpouring. + + + And when she dives to her home below, + With laughter the fishes she's telling, + "O River-children, one doth see + Strange things where mortals are dwelling. + + + "There stands someone on shore, in the storm: + What do you think he's doing? + Blows evermore the same old tune-- + The tune of Love's soft wooing." + + + V. + + Thou Muse of Music, take my thanks, + Be praise to thee forever, + For teaching me thy Art divine, + That Art which faileth never. + + + Though language is a noble thing, + There are limits to what it expresses; + No speech has uttered yet what lives + In the soul's most hidden recesses. + + + It matters not that there are times, + When words to us are wanting; + For then, within, mysterious sounds + Our spell-bound hearts are haunting. + + + It murmurs, hums, it swells and rings, + Our hearts seem well-nigh breaking, + Till music's glorious hosts burst forth, + To forms of life awaking. + + + Oft I should stand before my love + A stupid bashful fellow, + Were not my trumpet there at hand, + And love-songs sweet and mellow. + + + Thou Muse of Music, take my thanks, + Be praise to thee forever, + For teaching me thy Art divine, + That Art which faileth never. + + + VI. + + The skylark and the raven + Are of a different tribe; + I feel as if in heaven! + That I am not a scribe. + + + The world is not so prosy, + The woods with mirth o'erflow, + To me life seems all rosy, + My trumpet rings hallo. + + + And merry tunes 'tis sending + Forth in a constant flow; + Who finds these sounds offending + May to the cloister go. + + + When ink it shall be raining, + Sand fall instead of snow, + Then, from my sin abstaining, + I nevermore will blow. + + + VII. + + Where 'neath the bridge the waters foam, + Dame Trout was swimming downward, + And met her cousin Salmon there: + "How are you, river-comrade?" + + + "I'm well," quoth he, "but thought just now: + If only lightning flashing, + Down there, would strike that stripling dead, + Him and his trumpet smashing! + + + The live-long day my fine young sir + On shore is promenading; + Rhine up, Rhine down, and never stops + His hateful serenading." + + + Dame Trout, then smiling, answered him; + "Dear cousin, you are spiteful, + I, on the contrary, do find + The Trumpeter delightful. + + + "If you, like him, could but enjoy + Fair Margaretta's favour, + To learn the trumpet even now, + You would not deem much labour." + + + VIII. + + I pray that no fair rose for me, + By thy dear hands, be broken; + A slip of holly evergreen, + Be of our love the token. + + + The chaplet green with glossy sheen + O'er the fruit good watch is keeping; + And all will prick who try to pick + What's for another's reaping. + + + The gaudy rose, when Autumn comes, + Finds that her beauty waneth; + The holly leaf her modest green + Through cold and snow retaineth. + + + IX. + + Her fragrant balm the sweet May night + O'er hill and vale is breathing, + When through the shrubs with footsteps light + To the castle I am stealing. + In the garden waves the linden-tree, + I climb to its green bower, + And from the leafy canopy + My song soars to the tower: + "Young Werner is the happiest youth + In the German Empire dwelling, + But who bewitched him thus, forsooth, + In words he won't be telling. + Hurrah! is all that he will say, + How lovely is the month of May, + Dear love, I send thee greeting!" + + + With joyous trills the nightingale + On the topmost bough is singing, + While far o'er mountain and o'er vale + The thrilling notes are ringing. + The birds are looking all about, + Awaking from their slumber; + From branch, and bush, and hedge burst out + Glad voices without number: + "Young Werner is the happiest youth + In the German Empire dwelling, + But who bewitched him thus, forsooth, + In words he won't be telling. + Hurrah! is all that he will say, + How lovely is the month of May, + Dear love, I send thee greeting!" + + + The sounds are heard, are borne along + By the river downward flowing; + And from afar echoes the song, + Fainter and fainter growing. + And through the air of rosy morn + I see two angels winging, + Like a harp's sweet tones, from Heaven borne, + I hear their voices singing: + "Young Werner is the happiest youth + In the German Empire dwelling, + But who bewitched him thus, forsooth, + In words he won't be telling. + Hurrah! is all that he will say, + How lovely is the month of May, + Dear love, I send thee greeting!" + + + X. + + Who's clattering from the tower + To me a greeting queer? + 'Tis, in his nest so cosy, + My friend the stork I hear. + + + He's preparing for a journey, + O'er sea and land will hie; + The Autumn is coming quickly, + So now he says good-bye. + + + Art right, that thou dost travel + Where warmer skies do smile; + From me greet fair Italia, + And also Father Nile. + + + There in the south are waiting + Far better meals for thee, + Than German frogs and paddocks, + Poor chafers and ennui! + + + Old fellow, God preserve thee, + My blessing take along; + For thou, at peaceful night-time, + Hast often heard my song. + + + And if perchance thou wert not + Asleep within thy nest, + Thou must have seen how often + With kisses I was blest. + + + But be not, pray, a tell-tale, + Be still, old comrade mine, + What business have the Moors there + With lovers on the Rhine? + + + XI. + + A settled life I did despise, + And so to wandering took; + When soon I found, to my surprise, + A comfortable nook. + + + But as I lay in rest's soft lap, + And hoped for long repose, + There broke o'er me a thunder-clap, + My stay came to a close. + + + Each year a different plant I see + Spring up, with beauty clad; + A fool's mad dance this world would be, + If 'twere not quite so sad. + + + XII. + + To life belongs a most unpleasant feature: + That not a rose without sharp thorns doth grow, + Much as love's yearning stirs our human nature, + Through pangs of parting we at last must go. + From thy dear eyes, when I my fate was trying, + A gleam of love and joy streamed forth to me: + Preserve thee God! my joy seemed then undying, + Preserve thee God! such joy was not to be. + + + I've suffered much from envy, hatred, sorrow, + A weather-beaten wanderer sad and worn; + I dreamt of peace and of a happy morrow, + When I to thee by angel-guides was borne. + To thy dear arms for comfort I was flying, + In grateful thanks I vowed my life to thee: + Preserve thee God! my joy seemed then undying, + Preserve thee God! such joy was not to be. + + + The clouds fly fast, the wind the leaves is sweeping, + A heavy shower falls o'er woods and meads: + The weather with my parting is in keeping, + Gray as the sky my path before me leads. + Whatever may come, joy's smile or bitter sighing, + Thou lovely maid! I'll think of naught but thee! + Preserve thee God! my joy seemed once undying, + Preserve thee God! such joy was not for me. + + + + SONGS OF THE CAT HIDDIGEIGEI. + + + I. + + Honest folks are turning lately + Their attention to the Muses, + And with ease compose their own songs + For their daily household uses. + + Therefore I shall also try it, + On light pinions freely winging; + For, who dares deny our talent, + Takes from cats the right of singing? + + + If I always run to book-stores + I shall find it too expensive; + And their gaudy books contain oft + Naught but trash, weak and offensive. + + + II. + + When through vales and on the mountains + Roars the storm at midnight drear, + Clambering over ridge and chimney + Hiddigeigei doth appear. + + + Like a spirit he stands up there, + Never looked he half so fair; + Fire from his eyes is streaming, + Fire from his bristling hair. + + + And he howls in fierce wild measure, + An old war-cry caterwauling, + Which is borne off by the storm-wind, + Like the distant thunder rolling. + + + Not a soul then ever sees him, + Each is sleeping in his house; + But far down, deep in the cellar, + Listens the poor trembling mouse. + + + For his voice she recognises, + And she knows that, when in rage, + Most ferocious is the aspect + Of this valiant feline sage. + + + III. + + From the tower's highest summit + Gaze I at the world below; + From my lofty seat I'm able + To observe life's ceaseless flow. + + + And the cat's green eyes are staring, + And he laughs within his sleeve, + That those pygmies there are trying + Such great follies to achieve. + + + What's the use? Up to my level + Never can I raise mankind. + Let them follow their devices, + Small their loss is, to my mind. + + + For perverted are men's actions, + And their work is woe and crash. + Conscious of his own great value, + Grins the cat down on this trash! + + + IV. + + O the world does us injustice, + And for thanks I look quite vainly; + For the finest chords of feline + Nature, it mistakes so plainly. + + + Thus, if some one falls down drunken, + And a throbbing like a hammer + Racks his heavy head on waking, + Germans call it _Katzenjammer_. + + + Katzenjammer, oh great insult! + Gentle is our caterwauling; + Only men I hear too often + Through the streets at night-time bawling. + + + Yes! they do us great injustice, + Never can be comprehending + All the deep and morbid sorrow + Which a poor cat's heart is rending. + + + V. + + Hiddigeigei often has raved with delight, + The true, good, and beautiful seeking; + Hiddigeigei often felt grief's deadly blight, + And with tender sad yearnings was weeping. + + + Hiddigeigei once has felt his heart glow, + When the fairest of cats he was wooing; + And just as a troubadour's love-songs flow, + Rang nightly his spirited mewing. + + + Hiddigeigei many a valiant fight, + Like the Paladin Roland, was waging; + But men have often belaboured his hide, + And with dropping hot pitch made him raging. + + + Hiddigeigei to his sorrow found out, + That his fair one was false and deceiving + That from a poor insignificant lout + She was secretly visits receiving. + + + Hiddigeigei then did open his eyes, + Left off his pining and yearning; + The world henceforth he learned to despise, + To his inner self earnestly turning. + + + VI. + + Lovely month of May, how hateful + To a cat you are, and dreary + Ne'er I thought such din of music + Could a cat's heart make so weary. + + From the branches, from the bushes + Birds their warbling notes are ringing; + Far and wide, as if for money, + Men I hear forever singing. + + + There the cook sings in the kitchen-- + Is love also her head turning? + In falsetto she now screameth, + That with rage my soul is burning. + + + Farther upward will I clamber, + To the terrace slowly wending. + Woe to me, for from the garden + Are my neighbour's songs ascending. + + + Even next the roof I cannot + Find the rest for which I'm pining; + Near me dwells a crazy poet, + His own verses ever whining. + + + When despairing to the cellar + Down I rush the noise escaping; + Ah, above me they are dancing, + To the pipes, and fiddles' scraping. + + + Harmless tribe! Your lyric madness + You'll continue, while there yonder, + In the East, the clouds are gathering, + Soon to burst in tragic thunder. + + + VII. + + May has come now. To the thinker, + Who the causes of phenomena + Searches, 'tis a natural sequence: + In the centre of creation + Are two aged white cats standing, + Who the world turn on its axis; + And their labour there produces + The recurring change of seasons. + + + But why is it in the May month + That my eyes are ever ogling, + That my heart is so impassioned? + And why is it that I daily + Must be leering sixteen hours + From the terrace, as if nailed there, + At the fair cat Apollonia, + At the black-haired Jewess Rachel? + + + VIII. + + A strong bulwark 'gainst enticements + I have built on good foundations; + But to the most virtuous even + Sometimes come unsought temptations. + + + And more ardent than in youth's time, + The old dream comes o'er me stealing; + I on memory's pinions soar up, + Filled with burning amorous feeling. + + + Oh fair Naples, land of beauty, + With thy nectar-cup thou cheerest! + To Sorrento I'd be flying. + To a roof to me the dearest. + + + Old Vesuvius and the white sails + On the bay are greeting bringing, + And the olive-woods are gladdened + By the spring-birds' joyous singing. + + + To the Loggia slinks Carmela, + Strokes my beard with soft caresses; + Of all cats by far the fairest, + Lovingly my paw she presses. + + + And she looks on me with longing, + But now hark! there is a howling; + Is the surf thus loudly roaring? + Or is old Vesuvius growling? + + + 'Tis not old Vesuvius growling, + For he holds now his vacation. + In the yard, destruction vowing, + Barks the worst dog in creation-- + + + Barks the worst dog in creation-- + Barks Francesco, loudly yelling; + And my lovely dream's enchantment + He thus rudely is dispelling. + + + IX. + + Hiddigeigei strictly shunneth + What his conscience might be hurting; + But he oft connives benignly + At his fellow-cats' gay flirting. + + Hiddigeigei with great ardour + Makes the mice-hunt his chief duty; + And he frets not if another + With sweet music worships beauty. + + + Quoth the wise cat Hiddigeigei: + Ere it rots, the fruit be plucking; + So, if years should come of famine, + Memory's paws remain for sucking. + + + X. + + Even a God-fearing conduct, + Cannot keep us from declining; + With despair I see already + In my fur some gray hairs shining. + + + Yes, unpitying Time destroyeth + All for which we've boldly striven; + For against the sharp-toothed tyrant + Nature has no weapons given. + + + Unadmired and forgotten + We fall victims to this power. + Wish I could, with fury raging, + Eat both clock-hands of the tower. + + + XI. + + Long past is the time, ere man in his might + O'er the earth his dominion was spreading; + When the mammoth roamed in his ancient right + Through the forests which crashed 'neath his + treading. + + + In vain may'st thou search now far and near + For the Lion, the desert's great ruler; + But we must remember, that we live here + In a climate decidedly cooler. + + + In life and in fiction is given no praise + To the great and the highly gifted; + And ever weaker is growing the race + Till genius to nothing is sifted. + + + When cats disappear the mice raise their voice, + Till they like the others skedaddle; + At last in mad frolic we hear _them_ rejoice-- + The infusoria rabble. + + + XII. + + Hiddigeigei sees with sorrow + To a close his days are drawing; + Death may come at any moment, + So deep grief his heart is gnawing. + + + O how gladly I the riches + Of my wisdom would be preaching, + That in joy as well as sorrow + Cats might profit from my teaching. + + + Ah! the road of life is rugged; + On it rough sharp stones are lying. + Stumbling o'er this path so dreary, + Sprained and bruised we limp on crying. + + + Life oft useless wounds is giving. + For 'tis full of brawls and knavery; + Vainly many cats have fallen + Victims to an empty bravery. + + + But for what this constant fretting? + The young cats are laughing ever, + No advice from me accepting-- + Only suffering makes them clever. + + + Let us see what they'll accomplish; + History's teachings are derided: + His sage maxims ne'er to publish, + Hiddigeigei has decided. + + + XIII. + + Growing weaker, breathing harder, + Soon I'll feel Death's shadow o'er me: + Make my grave there in the store-house, + In my former field of glory. + + + Valiantly all round me slaying + Fought I like a raging lion: + In his armour clad then bury + Of his race the last brave scion. + + + Yes the last, because the offspring + Win their parents equal never! + They are good but wooden people, + Not so witty nor as clever. + + + Wooden are they, thinking solely + Of the moment, hollow hearted; + Only few still hold as sacred + The bequests of the departed. + + + But sometime, when years have passed by, + In my grave I've long been sleeping, + Then will come the angry cat's howl + Nightly down upon you sweeping. + + + Hiddigeigei's solemn warning + Will you from your slumber waken: + Ever fear the coils of dulness! + Save yourselves, ye God-forsaken! + + + + SONGS OF THE SILENT MAN. + + FROM THE CAVE OF THE GNOMES. + + + I. + + Quiet heart! O ponder lonely, + Valiant, by no fears assailed; + Only in calm meditation + Lofty secrets are unveiled. + + + While the storms of life are raging, + While mean souls for trifles fight. + Thou on wings of song art soaring + O'er the mob in purer light. + + + Leave the dusty road to others, + And thy soul unsullied keep, + A clear mirror, like the ocean, + Where the sun has sunk to sleep. + + + O'er the world's loud bustle rising, + Soars the eagle lone on high; + Cranes and storks, they flock together, + But close to the earth do fly. + + + Quiet heart! O ponder lonely, + Valiant, by no fears assailed; + Only in calm meditation + Lofty secrets are unveiled. + + + II. + + Leave all commonplace forever, + Digging deeply, upward soaring; + For rich Nibelungen-treasures + Lie all ready for exploring. + + + From the mountains we see shining + Distant seas and shores of beauty; + While beneath we hear the booming + Of the gnomes hard at their duty. + + + Manna-like is spread around us + Spiritual food abundant; + And before our vision rises + The old truth with light redundant-- + + + As coarse threads and fine together + In _one_ net are intertwisting, + So the same laws are forever + For the small and great existing. + + + But a point comes,--sad confession?-- + Where to pause, our thoughts restraining; + At the limit of perception + Is mysterious silence reigning. + + + III. + + Past me wander beings pallid, + Fill the air with words of anguish: + All our doings are invalid, + Sick and old, we slowly languish. + + + Have you ne'er the wondrous story + Found in ancient books related, + Of the spring, wherein the hoary + Plunged, then rose rejuvenated? + + + And this fountain is no fiction, + Within reach of all 'tis flowing; + But you've lost the true direction, + Farther from its traces going. + + + In the forests' verdant bowers, + Where deep calm the soul entrances, + Where on graceful ferns and flowers + Elves sweep through their nightly dances: + + + There by stones and moss well hidden, + Rush the waters from the mountain; + From Earth's bosom springs unbidden, + Ever fresh, this magic fountain. + + + There with peace the soul is ravished; + There the mind regains its powers; + And the wealth of Spring is lavished + O'er old wounds in blossom-showers. + + + IV. + + Wilt thou know the world more clearly, + See then what before thee lies; + How from matter and from forces + The whole fabric doth arise. + + + Of the fixed forms of creation + Thou the moving cause must see; + In the changes of phenomena + Find what lasts eternally. + + + In presumptuous opinions + Fresh pure seeds ne'er germinate; + By deep meditation only + Human minds explore, create. + + + V. + + With the eagle's piercing sight endowed, + And the heart with hope o'erflowing, + I found myself with a mounted crowd + To thought's fierce battle going. + + + The banners high, the lance in rest, + The enemy's ranks were broken. + On their broad backs, O what a jest, + To mark a nice blue token! + + + We came at last to the end of our course, + O'er our failure in knowledge repining; + Then slowly I turned my gallant horse, + Myself to silence resigning; + + + Too proud to believe--my thoughts all free,-- + To the cave as a refuge flying. + The world is far too shallow for me, + The core is deeper lying. + + + I for my weapons no longer care, + In the corner there they lie rusting. + No priggish fool to provoke me shall dare, + To my valour alone I am trusting. + + + These owls and bats a look alone + Suffices to abolish; + Still serveth well an ass's bone, + The Philistines to demolish. + + + VI. + + Be proud, and thy lot nobly bear, + From tears and sighs desisting; + Like thee will many others fare, + While thinkers are existing. + + + There are many problems left unsolved + By former speculations; + But when thou art to dust resolved, + Come other generations. + + + The wrinkles on thy lofty brow + Let them go on increasing, + They are the scars which show us how + Thought's struggle was unceasing. + + + And if no laurel-crown to thee + To deck thy brow be given; + Still be thou proud; thy soul so free + For thought alone has striven. + + + + SOME OF MARGARETTA'S SONGS. + + + I. + + How proud he is and stately! + How noble is his air! + A trumpeter he's only, + Yet I for him do care. + + + And owned he castles seven, + He could not look more fair. + O would to him were given + Another name to bear! + + + Ah, were he but a noble, + A knight of the Golden Fleece! + Love, thou art full of trouble, + Love, thou art full of peace. + + + II. + + Two days now have passed already, + Since I gave him that first kiss; + Ever since that fatal hour + All with me has gone amiss. + + + My dear little room, so pretty, + Where so nice a life I led, + Is now in such dire confusion. + That it almost turns my head. + + + My sweet roses and carnations, + Withered now, for care ye pine! + Oh, I think, instead of water, + I have deluged you with wine. + + + My dear lovely snow-white pigeon + Has no water and no bread; + And the goldfinch in his cage there + Looks as if he were half dead. + + + I am putting blue and red yarn + In my white net as I knit; + And I work in my embroidery + White wool where it doth not fit. + + + Where are Parcival and Theuerdank? + If I only, only knew! + I believe that I those poets + In the kitchen-pantry threw. + + + And the kitchen plates are standing + On the book-case--what a shame! + Ah, for all these many blunders + I my love, my love must blame! + + + III. + + Away he is gone in the wide wide world; + No word of farewell has he spoken. + Thou fresh young player in wood and mead, + Thou sun whose light is my daily need, + When wilt thou send me a token? + + + I hardly had time in his eyes to gaze, + When the dream already had vanished; + Oh Love, why dost thou two lovers unite, + With thy burning torch their hearts ignite, + When their bliss so soon must be banished? + + + And where does he go? The world is so large, + So full of deep snares for a rover. + He even may go to Italia, where + The women, I hear, are so false and so fair! + May Heaven protect my dear lover. + + + + FIVE YEARS LATER. + + WERNER'S SONGS FROM ITALY. + + + I. + + Too well were all things going, + Therefore it could not last; + My cheeks my grief are showing, + Misfortune came too fast. + + + The violet and clover, + The flowers all are gone. + 'Mid frost and snow, a rover + I wander sad alone. + + + Good luck will never favour + The man who nothing dares; + But he who does not waver + The smile of fortune shares. + + + II. + + A lonely rock juts upward + Just by the craggy strand; + The angry foaming waters + Have torn it from the land. + + + Now in green waves half sunken + Defiantly it lies; + The snow-white gulls are flying + Around it with shrill cries. + + + There on the heaving billows + Is dancing a light boat; + The sounds of plaintive singing + Up to the lone rock float: + + + "O that I to my country, + And to my love were borne; + O home in dear old Rhine-land, + For thee my heart is torn!" + + + III. + + Bewitched I am by the summer night, + In silent thought I am riding; + Bright glow-worms through the thicket fly + Like happy dreams, which in times gone by + My longing heart were delighting. + + + Bewitched I am by the summer night. + In silent thought I am riding; + The golden stars shine so far and bright, + In the water's fair bosom is mirrored their light, + As, in Time's deep sea, love abiding. + + + Bewitched I am by the summer night, + In silent thought I am riding; + The nightingale sings from the myrtle tree, + He warbles so meltingly, tenderly, + As if Fate his heart had been blighting. + + + Bewitched I am by the summer night, + In silent thought I am riding; + The sea rises high, the waves do frown; + Wherefore these useless tears which down + The rider's wan cheeks are gliding? + + + IV. + + 'Neath the waves the sun is going, + With bright hues the sky is glowing, + Twilight o'er the earth is stealing, + Far-off evening bells are pealing: + Thee I think of, Margaretta. + + + On the rocky crag I'm lying, + Stranger in a strange land sighing; + Round my feet the waves are dancing, + Through my soul float dreams entrancing: + Thee I think of, Margaretta. + + + V. + + Oh Roman girl, why lookest thou + At me with burning glances? + Thine eye, though beautiful it be, + The stranger ne'er entrances. + + + Beyond the Alps there is a grave, + The Rhine watch o'er it keepeth; + And three wild roses bloom thereon; + Therein my love-dream sleepeth. + + + Oh Roman girl, why lookest thou + At me with burning glances? + Thine eye, though beautiful it be, + The stranger ne'er entrances. + + + VI. + + Outside the gates when walking, + I see of life no trace; + There is the wide-spread graveyard + Of the ancient Roman race. + + + They rest from love and hatred, + From pleasure, strife, and guilt; + There in the Appian Way are + Their tombs of marble built + + + A tower greets me, gilded + By the setting sun's last rays-- + Cæcilia Metella, + At thy proud tomb I gaze. + + + My eyes are turning northward, + As 'mid this pile I stand; + My thoughts are swiftly flying + Far from this southern land, + + + On to another tower, + With stones of smaller size; + By the shady vine-clad window + I see my love's sweet eyes. + + + VII. + + The world lies now encircled + By the frosty winter night. + No use that by the hearth-stone + I think of love's sad flight. + + + The logs will soon be burnt out, + To ashes all will fall; + The embers will cease glowing, + That is the end of all. + + + It is the same old story, + I think of nothing more + But silence and forgetting-- + Forget what I adore? + + + VIII. + + The crowd it frolics, shouts and sings, + Disturbs Rome's usual quiet; + Mad folly high her banner swings, + And thronging masks run riot. + + + Now up and down the Corso pace + Gay coaches 'mid wild showers; + The Carnival's great sport takes place, + The fight with chalk and flowers. + + + Confetti and fair roses fly, + Bouquets are thickly raining. + That hit--good luck! how glows her eye! + Thou art the victory gaining. + + + And thou, my heart, mirth also show, + Forget what thou hast suffered; + Let bygone times and bygone woe + With flowers sweet be covered. + + + IX. + + By the clear green Lake of Nemi + An old maple-tree doth grow; + Through its lofty leafy summit + The breezes sadly blow. + + + By the clear green Lake of Nemi + A young musician lies, + He hums a song, while many + Tears glisten in his eyes. + + + On the clear green Lake of Nemi + The waves so gently flow; + The maple and musician + Their own minds do not know. + + + By the clear green Lake of Nemi + Is the best inn of the land; + Praiseworthy macaroni, + And wine of famous brand. + + + The maple and musician + Are crazy both, I think; + Else they would go there yonder, + Grow sane by honest drink. + + + X. + + My heart is filled with rancour, + The storm howls all around; + Thou art the man I want now, + Thou false Italian hound. + + + Thy dagger's thrust I parried; + Now, worthy friend, beware + How from a German sword's stroke + Thy Italian skull will fare. + + + The sun's last rays had vanished + Far from the Vatican; + It rose to shine next morning + Upon a lifeless man. + + + XI. + + Oh Ponte Molle, thou bridge of renown, + Near thee many draughts have I swallowed down, + From bottles in wicker-work braided. + Oh Ponte Molle, what is the cause + That I between my glasses now pause, + Can hardly to drink be persuaded? + + + Oh Ponte Molle, 'tis strange in truth, + That the lovely days of my vanished youth + And love's old dream are recurring. + Through the land the hot sirocco blows, + And within my heart the old flame glows, + Sweet music within me is stirring. + + + Oh Tiber-stream, oh St. Peter's dome, + Oh thou all-powerful ancient Rome, + Naught care I for all thou containest. + Where'er in my restless wanderings I rove, + My gentle and lovely Schwarzwald-love, + The fairest on earth thou remainest! + + + Oh Ponte Molle, how lovely was she! + And if I thousands of girls should see, + To love but the one I am willing. + And if ever thy solid pile should bear + The weight of her footsteps, I will swear, + Even thy cold frame would be thrilling. + + + But useless the longing and useless the woe, + The sun is too ardent so far to go, + And flying is not yet invented. + Padrone, another bottle of wine! + This Orvieto so pearly and fine + Makes even a sad heart contented. + + + Oh Ponte Molle, thou bridge of renown, + Hast thou on my head called witchcraft down + For my love-sick and dreamy talking? + A cloud of dust whirls up to the sky, + A herd of oxen now passing by + Blocks up the way I am walking. + + + XII. + + (_Monte testaccio._) + + I do not know what the end will be; + O'er the low ground spreads the gloaming, + The ominous bat already I see + As she starts on her nightly roaming. + On Ponte Molle all is still, + I think the good old hostess will + Very soon the inn be closing. + + + A little owl I hear there screech + In the cypress grove 'tis hiding; + Campagna fogs up there now reach, + Over gate and city gliding. + They roll and float like ghostly troops + Round Cestius' Pyramid in groups; + What are the dead there wanting? + + + Now bursts a light around the hill, + The leaden gray clouds are fast going; + The full moon's face rises slow and still, + With envy's yellow hue glowing. + She shines so pale, she shines so cold, + Right into the goblet which I hold; + That cannot be a good omen. + + + He who from his sweetheart is torn away, + Will love her more dearly than ever; + And who doth long in the night-air stay, + Will catch most surely a fever. + And now the hostess the light puts out, + Felice notte! I back to her shout; + The bill I'll settle to-morrow. + + + XIII. + + Awaking from my slumber + I hear the skylark sing; + The rosy morning greets me, + The fresh young day of Spring. + + + In the garden waves the palm-tree + Mysteriously its crown, + And on the distant sea-shore + The surf rolls up and down; + + + And azure-blue the heavens, + The golden sun so bright; + My heart, what more is wanting? + Chime in with all thy might! + + + And now pour out thy praises + To God, who oft gave proof, + He never would forsake thee-- + 'Tis thou who kept aloof. + + + XIV. + + To serve, to serve! an evil ring, + Has this word so harsh and frigid; + My love is gone, my life's sweet Spring; + My heart, become not rigid. + + + My trumpet looks so sad to-day, + With crape around it winding; + In a cage they put the player gay, + Lay on him fetters binding. + + + Deep grief and pain infest his way, + His heart with arrows stinging; + For his daily bread he has to play, + He can no more be singing. + + + Who on the Rhine sang to his lyre. + Of all save joy unheeding, + Is now--sad fate--the Pope's great choir + In the Sistine Chapel leading. + + + + FIFTEENTH PART. + + THE MEETING IN ROME. + + + Scorching lay the heat of summer + Over Rome, th' Eternal City; + Sluggishly his yellow waters + Rolls the Tiber, rolls them seaward, + Through the sultry air; however, + Not so much from choice, but rather + From a sense of duty, knowing + That it is a river's business. + Deep down at the river's bottom, + Sat old Tiber, and he muttered: + + + "Oh how slowly time is dragging! + I am weary! Would the end were + Of this dull monotonous motion! + Will no storm ere raise a flood-tide, + To engulf this little country, + And drag all the brooks and rivers, + Also me--the river veteran-- + And embrace us all together + In the ocean's mighty bosom? + E'en to wash the walls forever + Of old Rome I find most tedious. + And what matter that this region + And myself are held as classic? + Vanished, turned to dust and ashes, + Are those genial Roman poets, + Who, their brows adorned with laurel, + And their hearts imbued with rhythm, + Formerly have sung my praises. + Then came others, long since vanished, + Others followed in their stead, like + Pictures in a magic lantern. + Well! to me 'tis all the same, if + Only they would not disturb me. + Oh what have these busy mortals + Thrown into my quiet waters, + Quite regardless of my comfort! + Where my nymphs with sacred rushes + Had arranged for me a pillow, + For my usual siesta, + There now lie great heaps of rubbish, + Roman helmets, Gaulish weapons, + Old utensils of Etruria, + And the lovely marble statues + Which once from the tomb of Hadrian + Down upon thick-headed Goths fell; + And the bones all mixed together + Of defenders and aggressors; + Just as if my river-bed were + An historic lumber chamber. + Oh how sick I am and weary! + Worn-out world, when wilt thou die?" + + + Whilst now thus the worthy Tiber + Gave full vent unto his anger + By this discontented grumbling, + There above gay life was surging, + And arrayed in festal garments + Crowds went toward the Vatican. + On St. Angelo's Bridge was hardly + Room enough for all the passers. + Crowding came in Spanish mantles, + Wigs and swords, the grand Signori; + Then some black Franciscan friars, + Also Capuchins, and common + Roman burghers. Here and there a + Sun-burnt and wild-looking shepherd + Of the near Campagna wore with + Classic grace his tattered garment; + And among them, with light footsteps, + Walked the lovely Roman maidens, + With black veils, although this covering + Did not hide their fervent glances. + (O how can the glowing sunshine, + Even when its rays are gathered + By adepts in their reflectors, + E'er compare with Roman glances? + Heart which felt their flames, be silent!) + + + From the castle of St. Angelo + Flutter gaily many banners, + Bearing all the Pope's insignia, + Both the mitre and the crossed keys, + Giving notice of the feast-day + Kept in honour of St. Peter. + + + There before the proud cathedral + Were the sparkling fountains playing; + Through the spray the vivid rainbow + Glitters o'er the granite basins. + And the obelisk gigantic + Of Rameses, King of Egypt, + Looked upon the crowd of people, + In his native tongue lamenting: + "Most perplexing are these Romans! + In the time of Nero hardly + Did I comprehend their doings; + Now still less I understand them. + But this much I have discovered, + That the climate here is chilly. + Amun-Rè, thou god of sunlight, + Take me home to my old friends there, + To the Sphinx, and let me once more + Hear the prayer of Memnon's column + Through the glowing desert ringing!" + + + On the broad steps of the Vatican + And beneath the marble columns + Tall Swiss halberdiers are walking + To and fro in keeping watch there. + Clanging through the hall the echo + Of their heavy tread is ringing. + To the gray old corporal turning + Speaks a youthful soldier sadly: + "Fine, indeed, and proud we Swiss are, + And I see no other soldiers + In the streets of Rome as jaunty + As we look with our cuirasses, + In the black, red, yellow doublet. + Many burning glances shyly + From the windows fall upon us; + But the heart is wildly yearning + Homeward, homeward for the mountains, + As at Strasburg on the bulwarks + When the Alpine horn was blowing. + Willingly would I give up all, + Earnest money, silver scudi, + E'en the Holy Father's blessing, + E'en the wine of Orvieto + Which pearls sweetly in the goblet, + Could I once again be chasing + Boldly on their tracks the chamois + O'er the rocks, near avalanches, + On the craggy steep Pilatus; + Or steal gently in the moonlight + Over fragrant Alpine meadows + To the faintly-lighted cottage, + To the dairy-maid, the light-haired + Kunigund of Appenzell; + And then greet the golden sunrise + With a joyful heartfelt jodel. + Oh Saint Peter, thy fine music + I should miss without regretting, + Could I hear again the well-known + Sharp shrill whistle of the marmot + In its lonely Alpine cave!" + + + On the steps of the cathedral + Stood in crowds close packed together + Elegant and idle dandies, + Holding muster over all the + Carriages and great state coaches + Which came quickly driving up there. + "Do you see the Eminenza + With that round face like the full moon, + With the double chin, he's leaning + On the servant in rich livery? + 'Tis the Cardinal Borghese. + He would rather now be sitting + Quiet in the Sabine mountains + In the airy villa by the + Rural beauty Donna Baldi. + He's a man of taste, a scholar, + Loves the classics, and especially + Doth he love the true Bucolic." + + + "Who is that?" now asked another, + "That imposing-looking person? + Don't you see there what a splendid + Chain of honour he is wearing; + How he shakes his periwig now + Like th' Olympian Jupiter?" + "What, you do not known him?" answered + Then loquaciously another, + "Him, the Chevalier Bernini? + Who has just restored the Pantheon, + Who upon St. Peter's also + Has bestowed such rich adornments, + And the golden tabernacle + Built o'er Peter's grave, which cost more + Than a hundred thousand scudi. + Take your hat off! Since the world was, + Has she seen no greater master, + Nor--" He was then interrupted + By a man with gray moustaches, + Who his shoulder tapped and scornful + Said: "You are mistaken; never + Saw the world a greater bungler! + I say this, Salvator Rosa." + + + Coaches come, in front postilions; + Splendid uniforms are glittering + And with retinue attended + Steps an aged lady onward + To the portal of the Dome. + "How she's fading," said then someone, + "The illustrious Queen of Sweden! + Do you still recall her lovely + Looks when first she made her entrance? + Then the Gate del Popolo looked + Just as if built out of flowers; + And as far as Ponte Molle + Came the Romans out to greet her. + Down the long street of the Corso + Unto the Venetian Palace + Were the shouts of joy unending. + Do you see that little hunchback + Standing there, who now is sneezing? + He stands high in grace and favour + As one of the queen's attendants. + He's a scholar of deep learning, + The philologist Naudaeus. + He knows everything that happened, + And sometime ago he even, + Over there at Prince Corsini's, + Danced an ancient Saltarello + To instruct the royal party, + Whose loud laughter was heard plainly + Even far off by the Tiber." + + + In the throng now quite unnoticed + Came a heavy lumbering carriage; + In it were two black-robed ladies; + On the box sat worthy Anton + As their coachman, calling loudly: + "Room ye people for the gracious + Lady Abbess and my mistress!" + Called in German, which roused laughter. + With bewildered eyes he looked round + At the foreign scene, and just then + Passing by the queen's attendants, + He beheld a gray old coachman, + And he muttered from his coach-box: + "Don't I know thee, Swedish rascal? + Didst thou not belong once to the + Regiment of Sudermanland? + Do you now expect my thanks here + For the cut you had the kindness + To bestow upon my arm once + In the fight at Nuremberg? + A most marvellous place is truly + This old Rome, for long-forgotten + Friends and foes meet here again!" + + + On the classic soil of Italy + Now my song greets Margaretta. + Gladly would it strew its fairest + Blossoms on the path to welcome + And to cheer this pallid maiden, + So that smiles might light her features; + For, since Werner left the castle, + Pleasure had become a stranger. + Only once they saw her laughing, + When the Suabian younker came there; + But it was a bitter laughter, + Harsh, discordant as a string sounds + On a mandolin when snapping; + And the younker then returned thence + Single, as from home he started. + Silently the maiden sorrowed + As the months and years sped onward; + Till at last the Princess Abbess, + Filled with pity, told the Baron: + "On our soil your child no longer + Thrives as heretofore, but slowly + Her poor heart from grief is withering. + Change of air oft worketh wonders. + Let me take then Margaretta + With me to the Holy City, + Where in spite of age I'm going; + For, in Chur the wicked bishop + Threatens to deprive our convent + Of our fairest Swiss possessions, + And I shall complain of him there, + Saying to the Holy Father: + 'Show me mercy, justly punish + The harsh bishop of the Grisons.'" + Said the Baron: "Take her with you; + And may Heaven grant its blessing, + That you may bring back my daughter + Rosy-cheeked and happy-hearted." + Thus to Italy they travelled + With old Anton as their coachman. + + + Now the carriage-door he opened, + And alighting, the old Abbess, + Followed by fair Margaretta, + Walked up to the church and entered. + Margaretta gazed in wonder + At the vastness of the building, + Where man seems reduced to nothing; + At the giant marble columns, + And the dome with gold overladen. + In the niche of the great nave stands + The bronze statue of St. Peter, + Which this day in papal vestments + Was arrayed, the gold brocade robe + Hanging stiffly on the statue; + On the head the Bishop's mitre. + And they saw how many people + Kissed the foot of this bronze statue. + Then a papal chamberlain led + Both the German ladies forward + To a seat close by the altar, + Place of honour kept for strangers. + Now was heard the sound of music; + And the Holy Father coming + Through the side-door from the Vatican + Made his entrance to St. Peter's. + Stout Swiss halberdiers were marching + At the head of the procession, + Followed by the celebrated + Singers of the papal choir. + Heavy music-books were carried + By the choristers, some hardly + Strong enough to bear the folios. + Then there came in motley order + Monsignori robed in violet; + Abbots followed then and prelates, + And the canons of St. Peter's, + Heavy looking, their fat figures + Corresponding to their livings. + Leaning on his staff the General + Of the Capuchins walked slowly + For a load of more than ninety + Years was resting on his shoulders; + But his brain was working out still + Many plans with youthful vigour. + With Franciscans from the cloister + Ara c[oe]li also came the + Prior of Pallazuola. + By the shores of Lake Albano, + 'Neath the shade of Monte Cavo, + Stands his little monastery, + Peaceful spot for idle dreamers. + On he walked in deep thought buried; + And who knows wherefore his mutterings + Did not sound like prayer, but more like + "Fare-thee-well, Amalia." + After them the choicest portion, + All the cardinals, were walking, + Their long robes of scarlet colour + On the marble pavement trailing. + "Heart, be patient," so was thinking + Cardinal di Ottoboni; + "Now I'm second to the Pope yet, + But in seven years most likely + I shall mount St Peter's chair." + Then a train of cavaliers came + With their shining swords, and followed + In strict military order; + 'Twas the Pope's own guard of honour. + And at last the Holy Father + Made his entrance, being carried + On a throne by eight strong bearers. + O'er his head were held by pages + The great fans of peacock-feathers. + Snow-white were his festal garments; + And his right hand, raised in blessing, + Wore the signet-ring of Peter. + Low the crowd knelt down in silence. + + + At the foot of the High Altar + The procession had arrived now, + And the Pope held solemn service + Over the Apostle's grave. + Solemnly and gravely sounded + The peculiar choral measures + Which old Master Palestrina + Had in his strict style composed. + And the aged Lady Abbess + Prayed with fervent deep devotion. + But fair Margaretta's glances + Were directed up to heaven, + Whence these solemn strains of music + Seemed to her to be descending. + But her eye was then attracted + To the singers' box--she trembled: + For, amid the group of singers, + Though half hidden by a column, + Stood a stately light-haired figure. + And again she looked now upward; + From her sight the Pope had vanished, + All the Cardinals had vanished, + Likewise all the nine-and-eighty + Burning lamps o'er Peter's grave. + "My old dream, dost thou return then? + My old dream, why dost thou haunt me + Even in these sacred precincts?" + + + The last notes had died out softly, + And the Holy Mass was ended. + "Oh how pale you look, dear lady!" + Said the aged Lady Abbess. + "Take my vial, it will help you, + It contains the finest essence + Which I bought myself in Florence + At the cloister of San Marco." + + + The procession of the singers + Passed just then before the ladies. + "God in heaven! oh have mercy! + Yes, 'tis he! I know the scar there + On his brow--it is my Werner!" + Dark before her eyes it grew now, + And her heart was beating wildly. + No more could her feet support her, + And the maiden sank down fainting + On the hard cold floor of marble. + + + + + SIXTEENTH PART. + + SOLUTION AND END. + + Innocentius the Eleventh + Was kind-hearted; and his dinner + He had just now greatly relished. + At dessert he still was sitting, + And while luscious fruit enjoying, + Said to Cardinal Albani: + "Who was that young pallid lady, + Who this morning in St. Peter's + Fell upon the floor and fainted?" + Answered Cardinal Albani: + "On this subject just at present + I can give no information; + But the Monsignor Venusto + I will ask, for he knows always + What in Rome is daily happening; + Knows what in salons is gossiped, + What the senators are doing, + What is drunk by Flemish artists, + What is sung by Prima Donnas, + Even what the puppet-show is + Playing on the Square Navona. + There is naught the Monsignore + Can't unravel and discover." + E'en before was served the coffee + (At that time this was a novel + Beverage and rarely taken, + Only on the highest feast-days) + Had the Cardinal already + Learnt the facts. He thus related: + "This pale maiden is a noble + Lady, who has travelled hither + With that German Princess Abbess; + And she saw--most marvellously-- + In the church a man this morning, + Whom she once had lost her heart with, + And whom, still more marvellously, + She unto this day is loving, + Notwithstanding and in spite of + Want of noble birth and titles, + And her father's stem refusal. + And the cause of this her fainting + Is, again most marvellously, + No one else but Signor Werner, + Chapel-master to your Holiness. + This the Monsignor Venusto + Heard to-day, when on a visit + To the Abbess who related + Confidentially these facts." + + + Then the Pope said: "This is truly + A most strange and touching meeting. + Were the subject not too modern, + And the actors of the drama + Not such semi-barbarous Germans, + Then some poet might win laurels + In the sweet groves of Arcadia, + Should he sing this wondrous meeting. + But I truly take an interest + In the grave young Signor Werner. + Greatly has improved the singing + Of my choir, since he leads it, + And the taste for solemn music; + While my own Italian singers + Care too much for operatic + Tunes of lighter character. + Quietly he does his duty, + Of his own accord ne'er speaking; + Never begs of me a favour; + Never was his hand extended + To receive the gifts of bribery. + Yet examples of corruption + Are more frequent with us, surely, + Than the fleas in sultry summer. + Monsignor Venusto knows this! + Seems to me that this grave German + Is consumed by secret sorrow. + I should really like to know now, + If he's thinking of his love yet?" + + + Said the Cardinal Albani: + "I well-nigh may answer for this. + In the books kept on the conduct + Of all high and low officials + In the State and Church departments, + It is mentioned as a wonder + That he strictly shuns all women. + First we nourished a suspicion + That his heart had fallen victim + To the charms of the fair hostess + Of the inn near Vale Egeria. + He was seen each evening strolling + Through the Porta Sebastiano, + And outside there is no dwelling + But the tavern just now mentioned. + Thus such nightly promenading + Of one yet in early manhood + Could not but arouse suspicion. + Therefore we once sent two persons + Carefully to track his footsteps, + But they found him 'mid the ruined + Tombs along the Appian Way. + There had once a great patrician + Built a tomb to his freed woman, + Whom he'd brought as a remembrance + From Judæa, at the time of + The destruction of the Temple. + She was called Zatcha Achyba. + There he sat, the spies related; + 'Twas a subject for an artist: + The Campagna's sombre landscape; + Moonlight on the marble tombstone; + He his mantle wrapped around him; + Mournfully he blew his trumpet + Through the gloomy lonely silence. + This had brought upon him later + Many mocking jeers like this one: + 'Signor Werner is composing + For the Jewess there a requiem.'" + + + At this smiled the Holy Father, + And the Cardinals did likewise; + Following these high examples, + All the chamberlains smiled also; + Even Carlo Dolci's features + Now relaxed their gloomy sadness. + And the Pope said: "We must all have + Great respect for this young German. + It were well if many others + Who at night away are stealing, + To the Appian Way were going. + Signor Werner, I assure you, + Stands most high in my good graces, + And to-morrow he shall see it; + For, I recollect, I've granted + Then an audience to the Abbess." + + + On the first day of July in + Sixteen hundred seventy-nine, there + Rose the sun with special glory. + Cooling blew the tramontana + Through the cypresses and myrtles + In the Vatican's fair garden; + And the half-parched flowers gladly + Raised their heads, breathed out fresh fragrance, + O'er the bronze gigantic pine-cone,-- + Which once Hadrian's museum + Had adorned, and now was living + 'Mid the jessamines and roses, + As a pensioner contented,-- + Lively lizards swiftly glided, + Snapping at the tiny insects + Ever dancing in the sunshine. + Fountains played, and birds were singing; + E'en the pale old marble statues + With warm life became imbued. + And the satyr, with his reed flute, + Raised his foot as if intending + To go dancing round the garden; + But Apollo's hand waved warning: + "Friend, those times have passed forever; + Thou wouldst only raise a scandal." + Bathed in sunlight, Rome looks smiling + O'er the river at the Vatican; + From the sea of houses, churches, + And fair palaces, the Quirinal + Proudly rises; in the distance + Towers up the Capitolium + In the violet autumn haze. + + + Through the Boscareccio's verdant + Alleys swept the shining white robe + Of His Holiness, who kindly + To the Abbess and the maiden + Here had granted audience. + And the Abbess gained assurance, + That her lawsuit would be taken + Into prompt consideration. + Then to Margaretta turning. + Said the Pope: "None of the pilgrims + Ever leave Rome without comfort; + So I, as the soul's physician, + Must prevent another fainting." + And he whispered to a servant: + "Go and fetch the chapel-master." + + + Werner came: to stately manhood + In this southern clime he'd ripened + Since he left, a hopeless suitor, + The old castle in the Rhine-land. + Life's wild whirlpool, since that morning, + Had well tossed him hither thither. + Willingly I would relate here, + How he went to many countries; + How o'er land and sea he travelled; + How he with the Knights of Malta + Cruised against the Turkish corsairs; + Till at last a fate mysterious + Unto Rome had duly brought him. + But my song becomes impatient; + Like a driver who is snapping + At the door his whip, 'tis calling: + "Onward! On to the conclusion!" + Werner came; bewildered gazed he + Twice, yes thrice, at Margaretta, + Gazed at her in utter silence; + But his glances did express more + Than a printed folio volume. + 'Twas the glance with which Ulysses + Sitting by the suitors' corpses + Gazed upon his consort, from whom + He by twenty years of wandering + And of suffering had been parted. + + + Innocentius the Eleventh + Was kind-hearted, a discerner + Of men's hearts. Most kindly said he: + "Those whom Providence united + In His goodness and His wisdom, + Shall no more be separated. + Yesterday when in St. Peter's, + And to-day here in the garden, + I have come to the conviction, + That there is a case here waiting + For my papal interference. + "'Tis indeed a mighty power + Love, a power all subduing; + Than light even more ethereal, + Doth it penetrate all barriers, + And the chair of Peter also + Is not safe from its invasion + When it asks us for our help. + "But it is a pleasant duty + Of the head of Christendom, + To make smooth the path of lovers, + Every obstacle removing, + That true love may be victorious. + And of all the various nations, + 'Tis the Germans who beyond all + Keep us busy with such matters. + So the Count of Gleichen brought here + With him a fair Turkish consort + From the Holy Land, though knowing + His own consort still was living. + And our annals make full mention + Of our predecessor's troubles + Brought about by this wild action. + So likewise the most unhappy + Of all knights came here, Tannhauser: + "'Pope Urbano, Pope Urbano, + Heal the sick man held as captive + Seven years within the mountain + Of the wicked goddess Venus!' + But to-day the case is different + And more pleasing; there is nothing + Which conflicts with any canon. + There is only a slight scruple-- + If I've heard right--with the Baron. + You, my Werner, have been faithful, + But I read 'neath all this quiet + Resignation to your duty, + That reluctantly you sang here, + As a caged-up bird is singing. + Oft you've asked for your dismission, + Which I ever did deny you, + And to-day would never grant you, + If it only were the custom, + That the papal chapel-master + Could like other mortals marry. + But in Rome we must keep always, + As you know, traditions sacred; + Palestrina for this reason + Went himself to foreign lands. + "Therefore go with my full favour; + And because the lady's father + Thinks the name of Werner Kirchhof + Much too simple, so I grant you + Knighthood by my sovereign power. + You, I know, care naught about it; + For you by your art ennobled + Think such titles of no moment. + But perhaps the gracious lady + May consider it more proper, + To bestow her hand in marriage + On the Marquis Camposanto + Rather than on Master Werner. + And because I hold the power + Both to bind as well as loosen, + I now solemnly betroth you. + E'en this loveless age rejoices + At examples of devotion. + You have shown one--be then happy, + And receive my papal blessing." + + + This he spoke with much emotion. + And overwhelmed with grateful feelings + Werner knelt with Margaretta + Down before the Holy Father; + And the Abbess wept so freely + That the grass thought it was raining. + With the tears of the good Abbess + Closes now the touching story + Of the young musician Werner + And the lovely Margaretta. + + + But who's wandering late at night-time + Through the Corso, who is stealing + Through that dark and narrow side-street? + 'Tis the faithful coachman Anton; + Filled with joy is his whole being. + To give vent unto this feeling + He is going to the wine-house, + To the tavern del Fachino. + And to-night he is not drinking + Country wine in fogliette; + He has ordered a straw-covered + Bottle of good Orvieto + And of Monte Porzio. + Panes are crashing, fragments flying; + For he throws each empty bottle + In his rapture through the window. + Though indignant at the oil-drops + Which upon the wine are floating, + Just like comets in the ether, + Still he drinks and drinks with ardour; + Only while the tavern-keeper + Went to fetch him the sixth bottle + From the cellar, thus he spoke out: + "Thou, oh heart of an old coachman, + Now rejoice, for soon thou'lt harness + Thy good horses and drive homeward. + From the standpoint of a coachman + Italy is but a mournful + Land, behind in every comfort. + Horrid roads, and frequent toll-gates, + Musty stalls, and oats quite meagre, + Coaches rough! I feel insulted + Every time I see those waggons + Drawn by oxen yoked together. + The first element is wanting + Of a coachman's daily comfort, + 'Tis the handy German hostler. + Oh how much I miss those worthies! + Oh how gladly I will welcome + One in pointed cap and apron! + In my joy again to see him + I will hug and even kiss him. + And at home what great surprises + Are in store! Oh never was I + So impressed with the grave duties + Of a coachman as at present + At a proud trot, such as never + Has been seen in this whole country, + Shall I drive my lord and ladies + Home through Florence and Milan. + + + "At Schaffhausen, the last station + For our night's rest, I must promptly + Send a messenger on horseback, + And he must alarm the city: + 'Put up quickly all your banners, + Load your cannons for saluting, + And erect an arch of honour!' + Then we enter the next evening + Through the ancient gate in triumph, + And my whip I'll crack so loudly + That the town-house windows rattle. + Then I hear the aged Baron + Asking sharply: 'What's the meaning + Of these banners and this uproar?' + From afar I shout already: + 'Heaven's blessing rests upon us; + Here a bridal pair are coming, + And, my lord, they are your children.' + This day ne'er shall be forgotten! + In remembrance shall the tom-cat + Hiddigeigei have a genuine + Whole well-smoked Italian sausage. + For the sake of after ages + Must the good schoolmaster make me + A fine poem on this subject; + I don't care, e'en should it cost me + The amount of two whole thalers, + And it must conclude as follows: + 'From true love and trumpet-blowing + Many useful things are springing; + For true love and trumpet-blowing + E'en a noble wife are winning. + May true love and trumpet-blowing + Each one find good fortune bringing, + As our trumpeter young Werner, + On the Rhine at old Säkkingen.'" + + + + THE END. + + + + + NOTES. + + +The town of Säkkingen, where the scene of this poem is laid, is +situated amid beautiful scenery on the outskirts of the Schwarzwald +(Black Forest), on the right bank of the Rhine, and on the road from +Basel to Constance, about 30 miles above the former place. The town +owes its origin to the settlement of St. Fridolinus (as related in the +Third Part of the poem), who came here from Ireland in the 6th century, +and founded a monastery, afterwards converted into a convent for noble +ladies. The settlement was made on an island in the Rhine. In the poem +the town is still considered as lying on an island, but according to +the legend, St. Fridolinus altered the course of the Rhine, leading +its waters entirely to the west side of the island. + +The castle of Schoenau, on the site of the old castle of the Baron, the +father of the heroine of the story, stands close to the Rhine, and is +now the seat of Mr. Theodore Bally, the well-known wealthy and +benevolent proprietor of large silk manufactories. He has caused the +old tower of the castle to be restored, and intends to adorn its walls +with frescoes, representing scenes from the poem. + +_Page_ 1.--Michele Pagano, a very popular hotel-keeper in Capri, whose +hotel was mostly frequented by German artists. He died only very +recently, universally regretted. + +_Page_ 3.--The cat Hiddigeigei, the old Baron's cat, with which the +reader will become better acquainted as a philosophising cat in the +course of the poem. + +_Page_ 5.--Amaranth, a poem by Oscar von Redwitz, published a few years +before "The Trumpeter of Säkkingen," and at that time very popular, +especially with certain classes in Germany. + +_Page_ 13.--The Boezberg, a mountain in the Jura, over which the old +road from Basel to Zürich led. Now the railroad between the two places +pierces it with a tunnel. + + --The Hozzenwald, the Hauenstein mountains. See note to page 15. + + --The Gallus Tower, an old tower at the upper extremity of Säkkingen, +properly called after St. Gallus, now used as a house of refuge for +homeless people. + +_Page_ 14.--The graveyard of Säkkingen contains still the tombstone of +the hero and heroine of the poem. Their names, as given there, are +Franz Werner Kirchhofer and Marie Ursula von Schoenau. The first died +in May, 1690, the latter in March of the following year. + +_Page_ 15.--The Eggberg is one of the mountains in the Hauenstein +country, to the north of Säkkingen. The inhabitants of this country +were formerly remarkable for their quaint costumes coming down from the +15th century. The men wore shirts with large frills around the neck, +red stomachers, long black jackets, and wide trousers reaching below +the knee, and called hozen. Hence the land was called Hozzenland. The +dress of the women was also very peculiar, and of many bright colours. +These old costumes are now rarely seen. + +_Page_ 17.--"The silvery lake," a romantic small lake, half an hour +N.W. from Säkkingen. It lies in a hollow on the hills, surrounded by +rocks and splendid fir-woods. The lake, which is known by the name of +Berg See (mountain lake), is now also called Scheffel See. It is a +favourite spot for excursions from far and near, and abounds in fish. + +_Page_ 19.--The Feldberg, the highest point of the Schwarzwald. + +_Page_ 20.--St. Blasien, formerly a very ancient monastery of +Benedictine monks, called thus after St. Blasius, Bishop of Sebaste, +whose relics were brought here by one of the early abbots. + +_Page_ 21.--"Then appeared as Death and Devil." This is the subject of +one of Albrecht Dürer's most celebrated engravings, called Ritter, Tod, +and Teufel (the Knight, Death, and the Devil), where the knight rides +quietly and unmoved through a gloomy mountain glen, smiling at Death, +who holds up an hourglass before him, and taking no notice at all of +the droll Devil, who tries to grasp him from behind. The knight is +evidently an embodiment of the freer spirit which began to reign then +in Germany. The engraving is of the year 1513. + +_Page_ 26.--"Far off on the island glisten." The town of Säkkingen with +its minster. + +_Page_ 30.--Rheinfeld, or rather Rheinfelden, a town on the left bank +of the Rhine, about halfway between Säkkingen and Basel, where, during +the Thirty Years' War, in the year 1638 several actions took place. + +_Page_ 32.--Wehr, a village about six miles from Säkkingen, on the road +to Schopfheim, in the neighbourhood of a stalactite cave (Hasler +Hoehle) mentioned in the Tenth Part. + +_Page_ 38.--Cujacius (Jacques de Cujas), a very distinguished jurist +and professor of law in the university of Bourges (d. 1590). His only +daughter, Susanna, became known by her profligate life. But the stories +told of her by Catherinot cannot have happened during her father's +lifetime, as he died when she was only three years old. + +_Page_ 43--Palsgrave Frederic married the Princess Elizabeth, daughter +of James the First of England, in 1613. He was afterwards made king of +Bohemia by the Protestant princes of Germany, and moved to Prague in +1619. In the year following his army was routed near Prague by the +forces of the Catholic League, and he had to fly with his family. + +_Page_ 46.--"Of a young and handsome carpenter." The pastor refers here +to a popular German song, still often sung by students: + + War einst ein jung, jung Zimmergesell, + Der hatte zu bauen ein Schloss, etc. + +It is the story of a young carpenter who built a castle for a Margrave. +During the absence of the latter the Margravine falls in love with the +carpenter. The lovers are afterwards surprised by the Margrave, who has +a gallows built on which the carpenter is hung. + +_Page_ 49.--Clovis (465-511), king of the Franks, was married, while he +was still a heathen, to Clotilde, a Christian princess of Burgundy. +During the battle at Tolbiac (Zülpich), near Cologne, when sorely +pressed by the enemy, the Allemanni, he vowed to become a Christian, if +he should gain the victory. After routing and subjugating the +Allemanni, the king and many thousands of his people were baptised by +the Bishop of Rheims, on the 23rd of December of the same year (496). + +_Page_ 50.--"Augusta Rauracorum," Colonia Raurica, afterwards called +Augusta Rauracorum, a Roman colony founded in the year 44 B.C., by L. +Munatius Plancus. On the site of the Roman town are now two villages, +Basel-Augst and Kaiser-Augst, the latter a station on the railroad from +Basel to Zurich. Near Basel-Augst the remains of a Roman amphitheatre +and of a temple can still be seen. + +_Page_ 56.--Count Ursus of Glarus had been converted to Christianity by +St. Fridolinus, and, with the consent of his brother Landolph, donated, +a short time before his death, all his estates to the new cloister at +Säkkingen. When Landolph, after the death of his brother refused to +acknowledge his will, Fridolinus was obliged to go to law in order to +make good his claim, and after a long litigation was at last notified +by the government of Glarus that he would not be able to have his +claims settled, unless he could bring the dead Count Ursus himself in +court as a witness. Then, the legend says, Fridolinus went, on the day +appointed for the court, to Glarus, raised Ursus from his grave, and +walked with him to Rankweil (the seat of the court, ten hours from +Glarus), where the count gave testimony in regard to his donation. +Landolph then not only gave up his brother's estates, but added also a +large portion of his own. After that Fridolinus walked back to Glarus +with Count Ursus, and committed him again to his grave. The saint, on +account of this miracle, is visually portrayed in company with the +skeleton of Count Ursus. + +_Page_ 58.--Laufenburg, a town six miles above Säkkingen, and situated +on the beautiful rapids of the Rhine. A tower of the old strong castle +on the Swiss side is still standing. + +_Page_ 59.--Beuggen, a town on the Rhine below Säkkingen. The ancient +building of the Teutonic order is still standing, and is used now by +the Moravians as an institute for children. + +_Page_ 71.--The Wiese, a river coming from the Feldberg and flowing +into the Rhine a little below Basel. The beautiful valley of the clear +rapid river is now much visited, as there is a railroad as far as the +town of Zell. This region has become classic through the poet Hebel, +who wrote in the Allemannic idiom, still generally spoken in this whole +region. At Hausen, the station before Zell, where he was born, a +monument has been erected to him. There is also at Schopfheim, +the station below Hausen, on a hill called Hebelshoehe, a bust +of the poet The women of this region are remarkable for their large +singular-looking caps, to which Scheffel alludes. + +_Page_ 76.--This gravel bank, called Field of Fridolinus, is still seen +in the Rhine, opposite the castle Schoenau. + +_Page_ 80.--Hallau, a village not far from the railroad station +Neuhausen, the stopping-place for visiting the falls of the Rhine. The +red wine grown there is still very celebrated. + + --The Hohe-Randen, a mountain to the north of Schapfhausen. + +_Page_ 85.--Theuerdank, a German poem of the beginning of the 16th +century, written by Melchior Pfinzing, the secretary of the Emperor +Maximilian, who had planned and sketched the poem himself. + +_Page_ 101.--Grenzach, the first German village going from Basel, on +the railroad to Säkkingen and Constanz. It is celebrated for the wine +grown there. + +_Page_ 104.--The Frickthal, in the Swiss canton Aargau, nearly south of +Säkkingen. + +_Page_ 105.--Schinznach, a village in the canton Aargau, much visited +on account of its hot sulphur springs. In the neighbourhood are the +ruins of the castle of Hapsburg, the cradle of the imperial house of +Austria. + +_Page_ 109.--The mountain lake. See note to page 17. + +_Page_ 120.--May drink, or May wine, a favourite drink in Germany for +the spring-time, made by steeping the leaves of woodroof in the light +white wine of the country, and sweetening it with sugar. It is an old +custom prevailing already in the 16th century, when the woodroof was +added to the wine not only to cheer the heart with its fine aroma, but +also for medicinal purposes, as acting on the liver. + +_Page_ 135.--Albbruck, a place above Laufenburg on the Rhine, at the +mouth of the little river Alb, the valley of which is the most +beautiful in the Schwarzwald. Formerly there were here quite important +ironworks. + +_Page_ 151.--"E'en a common Flemish blacksmith." Quentin Massys +(1466-1530), a celebrated Flemish painter, said to have been originally +a blacksmith. While such, he fell in love, and in order to gain the +maiden's consent as well as her father's (who was an artist) he forsook +his trade, devoted himself to painting, and became a great master in +his art. On the tombstone which his admirers placed on his grave a +hundred years after his death, stands the Latin hexameter: + + Connubialis amor ex mulcibre fecit Apellem! + +_Page_ 152.--The Gnome's cave (Die Erdmannshöhle), a stalactite cave +near the village of Hasel (whence the cave is called also Haselhöhle), +between Wehr and Schopfheim. It can be reached from the former by a +walk of half an hour, and is often visited with guides. The first cave, +which one reaches through a low passage, is 13 feet high, the next +contains a small lake. There is also a little river rushing along under +steps, over which one walks. The cave contains, like all caves of this +kind, most fantastic stalactite structures, which popular fancy has +called the organ, the chancel, the skeleton, &c. Some columns when +struck give out tones which sound as thirds. The most interesting part +of the cave is called Die Fürstengruft (The Prince's Sepulchre), a +large room, 16 feet high, with a stalactite structure resembling a +large coffin. Popular superstition has from times immemorial made this +cave the haunt of gnomes. + +_Page_ 169.--The ancient county of Hauenstein lies between two spurs of +the Feldberg, the eastern one coming down to the town of Waldshut on +the Rhine, the western one to Säkkingen. It is also called Hozzenland +(see note to page 15). The early history of the country is somewhat +obscure until the time of the Emperor Rudolph of Hapsburg, when it +acknowledged the sovereignty of Austria. In the times of the fight for +the German throne between Albrecht of Austria and Adolphe of Nassau, +and between Frederick the Beautiful and Ludwig of Bavaria, when Suabia +was without a duke and Germany without an emperor, the different +villages of the country founded a union (Einung) for their protection. +There is still in existence such a union document drawn up in the year +1433. The entire union was divided into eight smaller ones, each of +which stood under an elected leader (Einungsmeister). All these eight +leaders elected one of their body as speaker (Redmann), who held the +leadership of the entire union. By this the Hauenstein peasants were +greatly protected in their ancient rights; still the oppression of the +Austrian governors (Waldvoegte) often incited revolutions, the most +important of which occurred during the Peasants' War in 1525. Others +lasted from 1589 to 1614, arising from an impost laid on wine. The poet +introduces such a rising here in the course of his story. + +_Page_ 206.--The Fuggers are an Augsburg family, who, by their +linen-trade and weaving, and afterwards by the purchase of mines in +Austria, amassed an enormous fortune, and were raised to the rank of +nobles by the Emperor Maximilian. The family attained their greatest +splendour under the Emperor Charles the Fifth, who, at the time of the +Diet at Augsburg, raised the two brothers then living to the rank of +counts. + +_Page_ 235.--Katzenjammer, literally translated, cats' misery, the +vulgar German expression for the indisposition after a drunken debauch. + +_Page_ 255.--Parcival, written by Wolfram von Eschenbach about the year +1200. Theuerdank, a German poem of the 16th century. See note to page +85. + +_Page_ 277.--"As at Strasburg on the bulwarks." The Swiss soldier +refers here to a popular song: + + Zu Strasburg auf der Schanz, + Da ging mein Trauern an, etc. + +The simple but touching story of a soldier who stands guard on the +bulwarks of Strasburg and hears the Alpine horn blown on the other side +of the Rhine. Seized with home sickness he swims across the Rhine, but +is taken afterwards and shot as a deserter. + +_Page_ 278.--The villa of the Cardinal Borghese, Casa Baldi, near +Olevano, in the Sabine country, is still in existence, and +is now an inn much frequented by artists. It has become celebrated by +Scheffel's humorous song, "Abschied von Olevano" (Farewell to Olevano), +which he wrote on the spot when leaving there after a long sojourn. It +is published in Scheffers collection of songs, "Gaudeamus." + +_Page_ 285.--Cardinal Pietro Ottoboni of Venice, who in 1689 became the +successor of Innocent XI. as Alexander VIII. + + + + + CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS, CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Trumpeter of Säkkingen, by +Joseph Victor von Scheffel + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRUMPETER OF SÄKKINGEN *** + +***** This file should be named 31314-8.txt or 31314-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/3/1/31314/ + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from scans obtained from The +Internet Archive. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Trumpeter of Säkkingen + A Song from the Upper Rhine. + +Author: Joseph Victor von Scheffel + +Translator: Francis Brünnow + +Release Date: February 18, 2010 [EBook #31314] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRUMPETER OF SÄKKINGEN *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from scans obtained from The +Internet Archive. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p class="continue">Transcriber's notes: Prepared from Web Archive text files +(http://www.archive.org/stream/trumpeterskking00schegoog/trumpeterskking00schegoog_djvu.txt) +and scans by Google (http://www.archive.org/details/trumpeterskking00schegoog)</p> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h1>THE TRUMPETER OF SÄKKINGEN.</h1> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3>THE</h3> +<br> + +<h1>THE TRUMPETER OF SÄKKINGEN</h1> +<br> + + +<h2>A Song from the Upper Rhine.</h2> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + + + + +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h2>JOSEPH VICTOR VON SCHEFFEL.</h2> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + + + +<h4>TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY</h4> + +<h2>MRS. FRANCIS BRÜNNOW.</h2> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + + + +<h3><i>Translation authorised by the Poet.</i></h3> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>London:<br> +CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY.</h2> +<h3>NEW YORK: SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG, & CO.<br> +1877.</h3> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h4>CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS.<br> +CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS.</h4> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + + + + + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">O Song, at home well known to fame,</p> +<p class="i6">That German hearts hath deeply stirred</p> +<p class="i4">And long hath made of Scheffel's name</p> +<p class="i6">A dear and honoured household word,</p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Go forth in thy first foreign dress,</p> +<p class="i6">Go forth to Albion's noble land!</p> +<p class="i4">Will she not greetings kind express,</p> +<p class="i6">And warmly clasp the stranger's hand?</p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The Emerald Isle will surely give</p> +<p class="i6">A welcome neither cold nor faint;</p> +<p class="i4">For on thy pages still doth live</p> +<p class="i6">The name of Erin's ancient Saint.</p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Across the sea my country's shores</p> +<p class="i6">As Hope's bright star before me rise;</p> +<p class="i4">Will she not open wide her doors</p> +<p class="i6">To one who on her heart relies?</p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Farewell, oh work of vanished hours;</p> +<p class="i6">When suffering rent my weary heart,</p> +<p class="i4">Thy breath of fragrant woodland flowers</p> +<p class="i6">Did life renew, fresh strength impart.</p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Oh Scheffel! may thy years be long!</p> +<p class="i6">And may'st thou live to see the time,</p> +<p class="i4">When this thy genial Schwarzwald song</p> +<p class="i6">Will find a home in every clime.</p> +</div></div> + +<p class="continue"><i>Basel</i>, <i>June</i>, 1877.</p> + + + + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<table cellpadding="10" style="width:90%; font-size:14pt"> +<colgroup><col style="width:90%; vertical-align:top"> +<col style="width:10%; vertical-align:bottom; text-align:right"></colgroup> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" style="text-align:right; font-size:80%">PAGE</td> +</tr><tr> +<td><a name="div1Ref_dedication" href="#div1_dedication">DEDICATION</a></td> +<td>1</td> +</tr><tr> +<td><a name="div1Ref_pref2d" href="#div1_pref2d">PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION</a></td> +<td>7</td> +</tr><tr> +<td><a name="div1Ref_pref3d" href="#div1_pref3d">PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION</a></td> +<td>11</td> +</tr><tr> +<td><a name="div1Ref_pref4th" href="#div1_pref4th">PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION</a></td> +<td>13</td> +</tr><tr> +<td><a name="div1Ref_pref5th" href="#div1_pref5th">PREFACE TO THE FIFTIETH +EDITION</a></td> +<td>16</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan="2"><h3><a name="div1Ref_pt1" href="#div1_pt1">FIRST PART.</a></h3></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>HOW YOUNG WERNER RODE INTO THE SCHWARZWALD</td> +<td>19</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan="2"><h3><a name="div1Ref_pt2" href="#div1_pt2">SECOND PART.</a></h3></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>YOUNG WERNER WITH THE SCHWARZWALD PASTOR</td> +<td>33</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan="2"><h3><a name="div1Ref_pt3" href="#div1_pt3">THIRD PART.</a></h3></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>ST. FRIDOLIN'S DAY</td> +<td>48</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan="2"><h3><a name="div1Ref_pt4" href="#div1_pt4">FOURTH PART.</a></h3></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>YOUNG WERNER'S ADVENTURES ON THE RHINE</td> +<td>64</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan="2"><h3><a name="div1Ref_pt5" href="#div1_pt5">FIFTH PART.</a></h3></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>THE BARON AND HIS DAUGHTER</td> +<td>78</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan="2"><h3><a name="div1Ref_pt6" href="#div1_pt6">SIXTH PART.</a></h3></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>HOW YOUNG WERNER BECAME THE BARON'S TRUMPETER</td> +<td>94</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan="2"><h3><a name="div1Ref_pt7" href="#div1_pt7">SEVENTH PART.</a></h3></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>THE EXCURSION TO THE MOUNTAIN LAKE</td> +<td>109</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan="2"><h3><a name="div1Ref_pt8" href="#div1_pt8">EIGHTH PART.</a></h3></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>THE CONCERT IN THE GARDEN PAVILION</td> +<td>128</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan="2"><h3><a name="div1Ref_pt9" href="#div1_pt9">NINTH PART.</a></h3></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>TEACHING AND LEARNING</td> +<td>142</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan="2"><h3><a name="div1Ref_pt10" href="#div1_pt10">TENTH PART.</a></h3></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>YOUNG WERNER IN THE GNOME'S CAVE</td> +<td>153</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan="2"><h3><a name="div1Ref_pt11" href="#div1_pt11">ELEVENTH PART.</a></h3></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>THE HAUENSTEIN RIOT</td> +<td>169</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan="2"><h3><a name="div1Ref_pt12" href="#div1_pt12">TWELFTH PART.</a></h3></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>YOUNG WERNER AND MARGARETTA</td> +<td>187</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan="2"><h3><a name="div1Ref_pt13" href="#div1_pt13">THIRTEENTH PART.</a></h3></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>WERNER SUES FOR MARGARETTA</td> +<td>201</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan="2"><h3><a name="div1Ref_pt14" href="#div1_pt14">FOURTEENTH PART.</a></h3></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>THE BOOK OF SONGS</td> +<td>215</td> +</tr><tr> +<td><p style="margin-left:2em"><a name="div2Ref_werner" href="#div2_werner"> +YOUNG WERNER'S SONGS</a></p></td> +<td>217</td> +</tr><tr> +<td><p style="margin-left:2em"><a name="div2Ref_cat" href="#div2_cat">SONGS OF +THE CAT HIDDIGEIGEI</a></p></td> +<td>232</td> +</tr><tr> +<td><p style="margin-left:2em"><a name="div2Ref_man" href="#div2_man">SONGS OF +THE SILENT MAN</a></p></td> +<td>247</td> +</tr><tr> +<td><p style="margin-left:2em"><a name="div2Ref_margaretta" href="#div2_margaretta"> +SOME OF MARGARETTA'S SONGS</a></td> +<td>253</td> +</tr><tr> +<td><p style="margin-left:2em"><a name="div2Ref_5yrlater" href="#div2_5yrlater"> +WERNER'S SONGS. FIVE YEARS LATER</a></p></td> +<td>257</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan="2"><h3><a name="div1Ref_pt15" href="#div1_pt15">FIFTEENTH PART.</a></h3></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>THE MEETING IN ROME</td> +<td>273</td> +</tr><tr> +<td colspan="2"><h3><a name="div1Ref_pt16" href="#div1_pt16">SIXTEENTH PART.</a></h3></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>SOLUTION AND END</td> +<td>288</td> +</tr><tr> +<td><a name="div1Ref_notes" href="#div1_notes">NOTES.</a></td> +<td>303</td> +</tr></table> + +<h2><a name="div1_dedication" href="#div1Ref_dedication">DEDICATION.</a></h2> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">"Who is yonder light-haired stranger</p> +<p class="i4">Who there like a cat is roaming</p> +<p class="i4">O'er the roof of <a name="div1Ref_pg1" href="#div1_pg1">Don +Pagano</a>?"--</p> +<p class="i4">Thus asked many honest burghers,</p> +<p class="i4">Dwellers on the Isle of Capri,</p> +<p class="i4">When they from the market turning</p> +<p class="i4">Looked up at the palm-tree and the</p> +<p class="i4">Low-arched roof of moorish fashion.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And the worthy Don Pagano</p> +<p class="i4">Said: "That is a strange queer fellow,</p> +<p class="i4">And most strange his occupation.</p> +<p class="i4">Came here with but little luggage,</p> +<p class="i4">Lives here quite alone but happy,</p> +<p class="i4">Clambers up the steepest mountains,</p> +<p class="i4">Over cliffs, through surf is strolling,</p> +<p class="i4">Loves to steal along the sea-shore.</p> +<p class="i4">Also lately 'mid the ruins</p> +<p class="i4">Of the villa of Tiberius</p> +<p class="i4">With the hermits there caroused.</p> +<p class="i4">What's his business?--He's a German,</p> +<p class="i4">And who knows what they are doing?</p> +<p class="i4">But I saw upon his table</p> +<p class="i4">Heaps of paper written over,</p> +<p class="i4">Leaving very wasteful margins;</p> +<p class="i4">I believe he is half crazy,</p> +<p class="i4">I believe he's making verses."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Thus he spoke.--And I myself was</p> +<p class="i4">This queer stranger. Solitary</p> +<p class="i4">I had on this rocky island</p> +<p class="i4">Sung this song of my dear Schwarzwald.</p> +<p class="i4">I went as a wand'ring scholar</p> +<p class="i4">To far countries, to Italia;</p> +<p class="i4">With much art became acquainted,</p> +<p class="i4">Also with bad vetturinos,</p> +<p class="i4">And with many burning flea-bites;</p> +<p class="i4">But the sweet fruit of the lotus,</p> +<p class="i4">Which doth banish love of country</p> +<p class="i4">And the longing to return there,</p> +<p class="i4">I have never found here growing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">'Twas in Rome. Hard lay the winter</p> +<p class="i4">On th' eternal sev'n-hilled city:</p> +<p class="i4">Hard? for even Marcus Brutus</p> +<p class="i4">Would have caught a bad catarrh then;</p> +<p class="i4">And the rain seemed never-ending.</p> +<p class="i4">Like a dream then rose the vision</p> +<p class="i4">Of the Schwarzwald, and the story</p> +<p class="i4">Of the young musician Werner</p> +<p class="i4">And the lovely Margaretta.</p> +<p class="i4">In my youth I have stood often</p> +<p class="i4">By their graves close to the Rhine shore;</p> +<p class="i4">Many things which lie there buried</p> +<p class="i4">Are, however, long forgotten.</p> +<p class="i4">But like one to whom a sudden</p> +<p class="i4">Ringing in his ears betokens</p> +<p class="i4">That at home of him they're thinking,</p> +<p class="i4">So I heard young Werner's trumpet</p> +<p class="i4">Through the Roman Winter, through the</p> +<p class="i4">Carnival's gay flower-show--</p> +<p class="i4">Heard it from afar, then nearer,</p> +<p class="i4">Like the crystal which of vap'rous</p> +<p class="i4">Fine materials is condensing</p> +<p class="i4">And increases radiating;</p> +<p class="i4">So the figures of this song grew--</p> +<p class="i4">Even followed me to Naples.</p> +<p class="i4">In the halls of the Museum</p> +<p class="i4">Who should meet me but the Baron</p> +<p class="i4">Shaking his big cane and smiling,</p> +<p class="i4">And before Pompeii's gate sat</p> +<p class="i4">The black tom-cat <a name="div1Ref_pg3" href="#div1_pg3"> +Hiddigeigei</a>.</p> +<p class="i4">Purring, quoth he: "Leave all study;</p> +<p class="i4">What is all this ancient rubbish,</p> +<p class="i4">E'en that dog there in mosaic</p> +<p class="i4">In the tragic Poet's dwelling,</p> +<p class="i4">In comparison with me--the</p> +<p class="i4">Epic type of all cat-nature?"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">This I could no longer stand, so</p> +<p class="i4">Now began this ghost to banish.</p> +<p class="i4">From the brother of the lovely</p> +<p class="i4">Luisella, from the crooked</p> +<p class="i4">Cunning druggist of Sorrento</p> +<p class="i4">Quantities of ink I ordered,</p> +<p class="i4">And sailed o'er the bay to Capri.</p> +<p class="i4">Here began my exorcisms.</p> +<p class="i4">Many pale-gold coloured sea-fish,</p> +<p class="i4">Many lobsters, many oysters,</p> +<p class="i4">I ate up without compassion;</p> +<p class="i4">Drank the red wine like Tiberius,</p> +<p class="i4">Without mercy poetising;</p> +<p class="i4">On the roof went up and down till</p> +<p class="i4">All resounded metrically,</p> +<p class="i4">And the charm was then accomplished:</p> +<p class="i4">Chained up in four-measured trochees</p> +<p class="i4">Lay those figures which so long now</p> +<p class="i4">From my couch sweet sleep had banished.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">'Twas high time, too; Spring already</p> +<p class="i4">Now gave signal of his coming--</p> +<p class="i4">Buds were sprouting on the fig-trees;</p> +<p class="i4">Shots were cracking, for with guns and</p> +<p class="i4">Nets they were the quails pursuing,</p> +<p class="i4">Who towards home their flight were taking;</p> +<p class="i4">And the minstrel was in peril</p> +<p class="i4">Then of seeing feathered colleagues</p> +<p class="i4">Set upon the table roasted.</p> +<p class="i4">This dread o'er him, pen and inkstand</p> +<p class="i4">Flew against the wall together.</p> +<p class="i4">Ready now and newly soled were</p> +<p class="i4">My strong boots which old Vesuvius</p> +<p class="i4">Had much damaged with his sulphur.</p> +<p class="i4">Farther now I journey onward.</p> +<p class="i4">Up, my good old Marinaro!</p> +<p class="i4">Off from land! the waves with pleasure</p> +<p class="i4">Bear light hearts and weightless freightage.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">But the song, which with such happy</p> +<p class="i4">Spring-born feelings from my heart welled,</p> +<p class="i4">Bears my greetings to my country</p> +<p class="i4">And to you, my honoured parents.</p> +<p class="i4">Many faults are in it, truly:</p> +<p class="i4">Tragic pathos may be wanting,</p> +<p class="i4">And a racy tendance; also,</p> +<p class="i4">As in <a name="div1Ref_pg5" href="#div1_pg5">Amaranth</a>, the +fragrant</p> +<p class="i4">Incense of a pious soul, its</p> +<p class="i4">Sober but pretentious colouring.</p> +<p class="i4">Take him, as he is, this ruddy.</p> +<p class="i4">Rough, uncouth son of the mountains,</p> +<p class="i4">With a pine branch on his straw hat.</p> +<p class="i4">What he's wanting in, pray, cover</p> +<p class="i4">With the veil of kind indulgence.</p> +<p class="i4">Take him not as thanks, for always</p> +<p class="i4">In your Book of Love I'm debtor,</p> +<p class="i4">But as greeting and as witness,</p> +<p class="i4">That a man whom worldly fortune</p> +<p class="i4">Has not placed 'mid smiling verdure,</p> +<p class="i4">Yet can, happy as a lark pour</p> +<p class="i4">Out his song on leafless branches.<p> +</div></div> + +<p class="continue">Capri, <i>May 1st</i>, 1853.<p> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>PREFACE</h2> +<h3><a name="div1_pref2d" href="#div1Ref_pref2d">TO THE SECOND EDITION.</a></h3> +<br> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Five years, my merry song, have now rolled by</p> +<p class="i6">Since thou didst venture thy first course to run,</p> +<p class="i4">A simple strolling minstrel's chance to try,</p> +<p class="i6">But no great laurels so far hast thou won.</p> +<p class="i4">In circles of prosaic breathing mortals</p> +<p class="i6">No praise was given thee of any kind--</p> +<p class="i4">Where formal stiffness bars life's glowing portals,</p> +<p class="i6">Thou and thy kindred can no quarter find.</p> +<p class="i0">And in the coteries of hoops and laces</p> +<p class="i0">Few were the readers, fewer still the praises.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Not everything suits everyone: the hill</p> +<p class="i6">Grows different flowers than the vale and lea:</p> +<p class="i4">But here and there in German homes there will</p> +<p class="i6">Be found some hearts who fondly turn to thee;</p> +<p class="i4">Where merry fellows are their wine enjoying</p> +<p class="i6">With cheerful songs, thy praises will resound;</p> +<p class="i4">Near landscape-painters' easels thou art lying,</p> +<p class="i6">And in a huntsman's bag thou oft art found, +<p class="i0">And e'en of pastors it has been reported</p> +<p class="i0">To thee as to their prayer-books they've resorted.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And many who have taken a young bride</p> +<p class="i6">To spend the honeymoon 'midst rural scenes,</p> +<p class="i4">Do like to read thee, sitting side by side;</p> +<p class="i6">Of happy hours thou often art the means.</p> +<p class="i4">Then Säkkingen, the fair Black Forest's treasure,</p> +<p class="i6">Which found at first in thee not much delight,</p> +<p class="i4">Has by degrees derived from thee great pleasure,</p> +<p class="i6">And to her heart with love has pressed thee tight.</p> +<p class="i0">Upon the whole, success outweighs detraction,</p> +<p class="i0">And thou canst view thy fate with satisfaction.</p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Now that thou wilt a second course begin,</p> +<p class="i6">I should for thee a better dress prepare,</p> +<p class="i4">With finer threads the verses' measure spin,</p> +<p class="i6">Here lengthen out, there shorten with more care,</p> +<p class="i4">I know it well, right often have I faltered,</p> +<p class="i6">Some of thy trochees sound a little lame;</p> +<p class="i4">But the old humour now, alas! is altered,</p> +<p class="i6">The mood which gave thee birth is not the same.</p> +<p class="i0">O rosy dreams of youth, when joy abounded,</p> +<p class="i0">Wherefore so soon by gloomy clouds surrounded!<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Once more in my dear Schwarzwald I now rest,</p> +<p class="i6">And near me rush the healing waters out,</p> +<p class="i4">On high a bird of prey soars o'er his nest,</p> +<p class="i6">And in the brook are sporting tiny trout.</p> +<p class="i4">From charcoal kilns the smoke clouds are ascending,</p> +<p class="i6">With iris-coloured hues the sun embrace,</p> +<p class="i4">And stately giant pines in rows unending,</p> +<p class="i6">Like wreaths of evergreens, the mountains grace.</p> +<p class="i0">A spicy hay-scent rises from the meadow,</p> +<p class="i0">And honest folk dwell 'neath their thatched roof's shadow.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And yet--should I now try new songs to sing,</p> +<p class="i6">The old accustomed tone I could not find;</p> +<p class="i4">Too often grief my soul with pangs doth wring,</p> +<p class="i6">Instead of mirth, scorn filleth now my mind.</p> +<p class="i4">The world serves idols now, the good ignoring,</p> +<p class="i6">And truth is silent, beauty hides her face;</p> +<p class="i4">What is unnatural men are adoring,</p> +<p class="i6">God is forgotten. Mammon takes his place!</p> +<p class="i0">The Poet, now, should be a prophet warning,</p> +<p class="i0">Like those of old, reproving, praying, mourning!<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">'Tis not <i>my</i> sphere; a mighty stirring song</p> +<p class="i6">Requires another man, a different art;</p> +<p class="i4">But though so much prevails that's sad and wrong.</p> +<p class="i6">One may not quite disdain a merry heart.</p> +<p class="i4">Go forth, my song, then, as thou didst before,</p> +<p class="i6">A cheerful memory of life's fresh spring;</p> +<p class="i4">Cheer up those hearts, which grief made sad and sore,</p> +<p class="i6">And to friends far and near my greeting bring.</p> +<p class="i0">Whenever men to nobler aims aspire,</p> +<p class="i0">Then higher too will ring the poet's lyre.</p> +</div></div> + + +<p class="continue">Rippoldsau, <i>September</i>, 1858.<p> + +<br> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>PREFACE</h2> +<h3><a name="div1_pref3d" href="#div1Ref_pref3d">TO THE THIRD EDITION.</a></h3> +<br> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Hiddigeigei, his opinion:</p> +<p class="i6">"Strange, perverse, are all mankind,</p> +<p class="i4">Who, when discord holds dominion,</p> +<p class="i6">In such ditties pleasure find....</p> +<p class="i4">Questions which the world are shaking,</p> +<p class="i6">Now the thinker's mind assail,</p> +<p class="i4">And no light as yet is breaking,</p> +<p class="i6">Which solution shall prevail.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">"Yet our song unto perdition</p> +<p class="i6">Has not been condemned, I hear--</p> +<p class="i4">What a marvel!--an edition</p> +<p class="i6">For the third time will appear.</p> +<p class="i4">Which in new dress, not inferior</p> +<p class="i6">(Of the old nought has been spared),</p> +<p class="i4">And, with quite unchanged interior,</p> +<p class="i6">For its third trip is prepared.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">"I regret that I'm declining,</p> +<p class="i6">And I fear I have the mange;</p> +<p class="i4">And I show now, by my whining,</p> +<p class="i6">When the wind and weather change.</p> +<p class="i4">Coming storms, when brewing, ever</p> +<p class="i6">My keen senses do betray;</p> +<p class="i4">And the atmosphere was never</p> +<p class="i6">Sultry as it is to-day.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">"Doubly thus I feel this parting,</p> +<p class="i6">But thy course must onward lead;</p> +<p class="i4">Take my blessing, song, on starting,</p> +<p class="i6">And the cat's well-meant good speed!</p> +<p class="i4">The green Rhine, the Schwarzwald breezes,</p> +<p class="i6">Bring with them health, peace, and rest;</p> +<p class="i4">Such a merry fellow pleases,</p> +<p class="i6">And is hailed a welcome guest.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">"Golden Spring, thee still I'm praising;</p> +<p class="i6">When the trumpet-notes rang out,</p> +<p class="i4">Then my bristling fur seemed blazing,</p> +<p class="i6">And bright sparks flew all about;</p> +<p class="i4">And the trumpet with my growling</p> +<p class="i6">Then defied Fate's evil doom;</p> +<p class="i4">Gentle is to-day my howling</p> +<p class="i6">O'er the hidden future's gloom."<p> +</div></div> + + +<p class="continue"><i>Summer</i>, 1862.<p> + +<br> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>PREFACE</h2> +<h3>TO THE <a name="div1_pref4th" href="#div1Ref_pref4th">FOURTH EDITION.</a></h3> +<br> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4"><a name="div1Ref_pg13a" href="#div1_pg13a">The Boezberg</a> +for the Rhine I have been leaving,</p> +<p class="i6">A home-sick longing stirred my heart within,</p> +<p class="i4">Once more that fragrant air I would be breathing</p> +<p class="i6">Again would see the town of Fridolin,</p> +<p class="i4">As if at my return with joy elated,</p> +<p class="i6">She lay there basking in the autumn sun,</p> +<p class="i4">Her minster's towers lately renovated,</p> +<p class="i6">Reflected in the river, brightly shone;</p> +<p class="i4">Far to the North, through bluish vapour breaking,</p> +<p class="i4"><a name="div1Ref_pg13b" href="#div1_pg13b">The Hozzenwald</a>, +a stately background making.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">From the <a name="div1Ref_pg13c" href="#div1_pg13c">Gallus-Thurm</a> on the Roman wall erected,</p> +<p class="i6">To where the ancient convent buildings lie,</p> +<p class="i4">The well-known gable roofs I all detected,</p> +<p class="i6">Where often my light skiff had glided by;</p> +<p class="i4">And where the shore by gravel banks is bounded,</p> +<p class="i6">A sunny garden's blooming face doth smile;</p> +<p class="i4">Half hidden by the chestnuts which surround it</p> +<p class="i6">Lies cosily the castle's graceful pile.</p> +<p class="i4">To it my hat in greeting I am tossing,</p> +<p class="i4">As o'er the ancient covered bridge I'm crossing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Unto the dead my steps at first were tending,</p> +<p class="i6">Unto <a name="div1Ref_pg14" href="#div1_pg14">the graveyard</a> +where the Rhine flows by,</p> +<p class="i4">For many had been called to rest unending,</p> +<p class="i6">Who once with me enjoyed this balmy sky.</p> +<p class="i4">The old stone wall I neared with deep emotion,</p> +<p class="i6">Inscribed with Werner Kirchhof s name and arms,</p> +<p class="i4">And of his wife a record of devotion,</p> +<p class="i6">Which, though long past, e'en now attracts and charms.</p> +<p class="i4">And Heaven's blessing on the pair alighted.</p> +<p class="i4">By death the same year they were re-united.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">To the market then I turned. "Are ghosts here wandering.</p> +<p class="i6">Or is it you yourself who meets mine eyes?"</p> +<p class="i4">So said the mayor by the court-house standing,</p> +<p class="i6">Who slowly did the stranger recognise....</p> +<p class="i4">Long years have passed since friends were often going</p> +<p class="i6">To hear my judgments in the dusky court;</p> +<p class="i4">But though now many heads gray locks are showing,</p> +<p class="i6">Their hearts are fresh, their memory is not short;</p> +<p class="i4">And as we never shunned good cheer and drinking,</p> +<p class="i4">From foaming bumpers we'll not now be shrinking.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">'Tis true the Button landlord has been moving</p> +<p class="i6">Out of his cosy tavern on the Square,</p> +<p class="i4">But still retains his former skill in brewing,</p> +<p class="i6">And in his new inn keeps the same good fare.</p> +<p class="i4">And as around the table we sat cheering</p> +<p class="i6">Our hearts with kindly memories of old,</p> +<p class="i4">From many lips I these glad news was hearing,</p> +<p class="i6">Which please the Poet more than heaps of gold:</p> +<p class="i4">The Trumpeter, whose story I'd been singing,</p> +<p class="i4">To young and old more joy was daily bringing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">As a vignette the weekly paper gracing</p> +<p class="i6">He's blowing politics instead of music now;</p> +<p class="i4">And even more, somebody has been placing</p> +<p class="i6">My hero on the stage--but ask not how.</p> +<p class="i4">Could I but see the walls of the new tower,</p> +<p class="i6">Which now is rising in the old one's place,</p> +<p class="i4">Embellished by an artist of great power--</p> +<p class="i6">The figures of my song devised with grace!</p> +<p class="i4">Thus might an artist's hand make expiation</p> +<p class="i4">For the abuse by stage-representation.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">However, let that go, I am not fearing</p> +<p class="i6">Whatever purpose thou mayst serve my song;</p> +<p class="i4">Now that a new edition is appearing,</p> +<p class="i6">I send my greeting home with it along.</p> +<p class="i4">On thy fourth tour thou Schwarzwald-child be hieing,</p> +<p class="i6">Where truth and goodness dwell, there enter in,</p> +<p class="i4">And preach to those who with <i>ennui</i> are sighing,</p> +<p class="i6">How innocent amusement they may win.</p> +<p class="i4">As often as there comes a new edition,</p> +<p class="i4">"Preserve thee, God!" be ever my petition.<p> +</div></div> + +<p class="continue">Seon in the Aargau, <i>November</i>, 1864.<p> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + + + +<h2>PREFACE</h2> +<h3><a name="div1_pref5th" href="#div1Ref_pref5th">TO THE FIFTIETH<!--undoubtedly the fifth edition--> EDITION.</a></h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The Trumpeter now, all alive and refreshed,</p> +<p class="i6">To the Jubilee loudly is blowing;</p> +<p class="i4">The present year has both of us blessed,</p> +<p class="i6">Great favour and lustre bestowing.</p> +<p class="i4">I have my fiftieth year attained,</p> +<p class="i6">Through joy and through sorrow surviving,</p> +<p class="i4">And his editions--such fame has he gained--</p> +<p class="i6">At the fiftieth are now arriving.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">It may be that I a part of my youth</p> +<p class="i6">And joy with him have been leaving;</p> +<p class="i4">But still from these scenes--to tell the truth--</p> +<p class="i6">Great pleasure I now am receiving.</p> +<p class="i4">To <a name="div1Ref_pg16" href="#div1_pg16">the Eggberg</a> I +climbed, where on high are seen</p> +<p class="i6">The homes of the Hauenstein peasant;</p> +<p class="i4">Their straw-thatched roofs with mosses still green,</p> +<p class="i6">But no more quaint costumes at present.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Through gaps in the forest I see shining bright</p> +<p class="i6">The snow-peaks of Switzerland's Giants,</p> +<p class="i4">The steep Finsteraarhorn's towering height</p> +<p class="i6">The Jungfrau dazzling with diamonds;</p> +<p class="i4">And as to the west I turn my gaze,</p> +<p class="i6">Blue ridge above ridge is unfolding:</p> +<p class="i4">And, in the evening's golden haze,</p> +<p class="i4">I'm the Vosges' great Belchen beholding.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">When now to Säkkingen downward I hie,</p> +<p class="i6">Through the dark green forest is gleaming</p> +<p class="i4"><a name="div1Ref_pg17" href="#div1_pg17">The silvery lake</a>, +like the earth's clear eye,</p> +<p class="i4">Looking upward, invitingly beaming.</p> +<p class="i4">Gneiss rocks high o'er the grassy shore rise;</p> +<p class="i6">And placed so as best to show it,</p> +<p class="i4">Inscribed on a rock this meets mine eyes:</p> +<p class="i6">"Säkkingen, the town, to her Poet!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And now, as by Bally's castle I stand,</p> +<p class="i6">There my Trumpeter also stands blowing,</p> +<p class="i4">Cast finely in bronze by a master's hand.</p> +<p class="i6">That they know us well here all are showing;</p> +<p class="i4">For, when I was going to pay at the inn,</p> +<p class="i6">The kind hostess refused quite indignant.</p> +<p class="i4">'Tis clear, in the town of St. Fridolin,</p> +<p class="i6">O'er us a bright star shines benignant.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The Trumpeter bravely has blown his way</p> +<p class="i6">Through much that his patience was tasking;</p> +<p class="i4">And the publisher also his joy doth betray:</p> +<p class="i6">For the author's likeness he's asking.</p> +<p class="i4">Accept then this book, my friends, as before,</p> +<p class="i6">With kind and growing affection;</p> +<p class="i4">When the Schwarzwald's Poet shall be no more,</p> +<p class="i6">Still hold him in fond recollection.</p></div></div> + + +<p class="continue">Carlsruhe, <i>October</i>, 1876.<p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + +<h3>THE</h3> +<br> +<h2>TRUMPETER OF SÄKKINGEN.</h2> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_pt1" href="#div1Ref_pt1">FIRST PART.</a></h2> + +<h3>HOW YOUNG WERNER RODE INTO THE SCHWARZWALD.</h3> +<br><br> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">To the Schwarzwald soars my song, up</p> +<p class="i4">To <a name="div1Ref_pg19" href="#div1_pg19">the Feldberg</a>, +where the last small</p> +<p class="i4">Cluster of its comrade mountains</p> +<p class="i4">Toward the south are boldly looking,</p> +<p class="i4">And, all mailed in fir-tree armour,</p> +<p class="i4">Keep good watch there on the Rhine.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Be thou greeted, peaceful forest!</p> +<p class="i4">Be ye greeted, ancient pine-trees,</p> +<p class="i4">Ye, who oft beneath your shadow</p> +<p class="i4">Me, the weary one, have sheltered.</p> +<p class="i4">Oddly twisted, spread your roots down</p> +<p class="i4">Deep within the earth's vast bowels,</p> +<p class="i4">Strength from out those depths imbibing,</p> +<p class="i4">While to us is closed the entrance.</p> +<p class="i4">And you envy not a transient</p> +<p class="i4">Human being's transient doings.</p> +<p class="i4">Only smile;--his feast at Christmas</p> +<p class="i4">You adorn with your young scions.</p> +<p class="i4">In your sturdy trunks lives also</p> +<p class="i4">Conscious life-sustaining power.</p> +<p class="i4">Resin through your veins is coursing;</p> +<p class="i4">And your dreamy thoughts are surging</p> +<p class="i4">Slow and heavy, upward, downward.</p> +<p class="i4">Oft I saw the clear and gummy</p> +<p class="i4">Tears which from your bark were oozing,</p> +<p class="i4">When a woodman's wanton axe-stroke</p> +<p class="i4">Rudely felled some loved companion.</p> +<p class="i4">Oft I heard your topmost summits</p> +<p class="i4">Spirit-like together whisper.</p> +<p class="i4">Then there breathed throughout my soul a</p> +<p class="i4">Sweet mysterious solemn dreaming.</p> +<p class="i4">Don't find fault then, if my song now</p> +<p class="i4">Soars within the forest shades.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">'Twas in March: still played the Winter</p> +<p class="i4">Masquerade; the branches, laden</p> +<p class="i4">With fantastical ice-crystals,</p> +<p class="i4">To the ground were lowly drooping;</p> +<p class="i4">Here and there, out of Earth's bosom</p> +<p class="i4">Tender plants their heads were thrusting--</p> +<p class="i4">Wood-anemones and cowslips.</p> +<p class="i4">As the patriarch, old Noah,</p> +<p class="i4">At the time of the great Deluge,</p> +<p class="i4">Sent the dove to reconnoitre:</p> +<p class="i4">So with winter's ice sore burdened,</p> +<p class="i4">With impatience sends the Earth forth</p> +<p class="i4">These first flowers with a question,</p> +<p class="i4">Asking, whether the oppressor</p> +<p class="i4">Has not come to his last gasp yet.</p> +<p class="i4">Blustering from the Feldberg's summit</p> +<p class="i4">Now old Master Storm is rushing,</p> +<p class="i4">And rejoices, through the dark dense</p> +<p class="i4">Forest he again is blowing;</p> +<p class="i4">Says: "I greet you, ancient comrades;</p> +<p class="i4">Why I come, you know the reason--</p> +<p class="i4">They believe, poor mortal children,</p> +<p class="i4">When they see me tearing, snatching</p> +<p class="i4">Roughly some old hat away,</p> +<p class="i4">I am only there to frighten.</p> +<p class="i4">That would be a pretty business,</p> +<p class="i4">Breaking chimneys, smashing windows,</p> +<p class="i4">Scattering through the air some thatchings,</p> +<p class="i4">Tearing some old woman's clothing</p> +<p class="i4">Till she signs the cross in praying!</p> +<p class="i4">But you fir-trees know me better,</p> +<p class="i4">Me, the fair Spring's thorough cleaner,</p> +<p class="i4">Who what's mouldy sweeps afar off--</p> +<p class="i4">Who what's rotten blows to pieces--</p> +<p class="i4">Who the earth's domain well cleanses,</p> +<p class="i4">That his radiant Lord and Master</p> +<p class="i4">Worthily may make his entrance.</p> +<p class="i4">And you, noble forest comrades,</p> +<p class="i4">Who so oft, with bronze-like foreheads,</p> +<p class="i4">Bravely have withstood my rudeness,</p> +<p class="i4">Ye whose trunks I have to thank for</p> +<p class="i4">Many knocks against my skull-bone,</p> +<p class="i4">Ye alone shall hear my secret:</p> +<p class="i4">Soon the Spring himself he cometh,</p> +<p class="i4">And then, when the buds are bursting,</p> +<p class="i4">Lark and blackbird sing their carols,</p> +<p class="i4">And with fervent heat the Spring sun</p> +<p class="i4">Brightly on your heads is shining,</p> +<p class="i4">Then remember me, the Storm-wind,</p> +<p class="i4">Who to-day, with boisterous fury</p> +<p class="i4">As his harbinger swept past."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Speaking thus, he shook the tree-tops</p> +<p class="i4">With great roughness; boughs are snapping,</p> +<p class="i4">Branches falling, and a thick, fine</p> +<p class="i4">Rain of pine-leaves crackles downward.</p> +<p class="i4">But the fir-trees, quite indignant,</p> +<p class="i4">Took small notice of this homage.</p> +<p class="i4">From their summits rang the answer,</p> +<p class="i4">Rather scolding, I should call it:</p> +<p class="i4">"You unmannerly rude fellow!</p> +<p class="i4">We will have no business with you,</p> +<p class="i4">And regret much that the finest</p> +<p class="i4">Lords have oft the rudest servants.</p> +<p class="i4">To the Alps begone directly,</p> +<p class="i4">There is sport fit for your humour;</p> +<p class="i4">There stand walls of rock all barren;</p> +<p class="i4">Entertain yourself with them there."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Now, while thus the storm and fir-trees</p> +<p class="i4">Held such converse with each other,</p> +<p class="i4">Could be heard a horse's footfall.</p> +<p class="i4">Toiling through the snow-piled wood-path</p> +<p class="i4">Seeks his way a weary horseman;</p> +<p class="i4">Gaily flutters in the storm-wind,</p> +<p class="i4">To and fro, his long gray mantle,</p> +<p class="i4">His fair curling locks are waving,</p> +<p class="i4">And, from out the cocked-up hat there</p> +<p class="i4">Boldly nods a heron's feather.</p> +<p class="i4">On his lips was just appearing</p> +<p class="i4">Such a downy beard as ladies</p> +<p class="i4">Much admire, because it showeth</p> +<p class="i4">That its bearer is a man, still</p> +<p class="i4">One whose kisses will not wound them.</p> +<p class="i4">But not many pretty lips had</p> +<p class="i4">Felt the soft touch of this beard yet.</p> +<p class="i4">Which, as if for fun and mischief,</p> +<p class="i4">Snow and ice now decked with crystals.</p> +<p class="i4">In his clear blue eyes were glowing</p> +<p class="i4">Warmth and mildness, earnest meaning,</p> +<p class="i4">And you could not doubt his fist would</p> +<p class="i4">Strike a valiant blow, when needed,</p> +<p class="i4">With the heavy basket-hilted</p> +<p class="i4">Sword, which, worn suspended by a</p> +<p class="i4">Black belt from his shoulder, well-nigh</p> +<p class="i4">Grazed the ground as he was riding.</p> +<p class="i4">Wound around his riding-doublet</p> +<p class="i4">Was a sash, to which was tied the</p> +<p class="i4">Richly-gilded shining trumpet,</p> +<p class="i4">Which he often with his mantle</p> +<p class="i4">Sheltered from the falling snow-flakes;</p> +<p class="i4">But, whene'er the wind pierced through it,</p> +<p class="i4">Bringing forth tones shrill and wailing;</p> +<p class="i4">Then around his mouth there played a</p> +<p class="i4">Sweet strange smile of melancholy.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Silent through the forest's thicket</p> +<p class="i4">On he rode, while often roving</p> +<p class="i4">Were his glances--as the case is,</p> +<p class="i4">When a wanderer for the first time</p> +<p class="i4">Over unknown roads is travelling.</p> +<p class="i4">Rough the path--the poor horse often</p> +<p class="i4">In the snow was nearly sinking,</p> +<p class="i4">And o'er gnarl'd and tangled branches</p> +<p class="i4">Of the knotted pine-roots stumbling.</p> +<p class="i4">And the rider, in ill-humour,</p> +<p class="i4">Said: "Sometimes it is quite tedious,</p> +<p class="i4">Through the world alone to travel.</p> +<p class="i4">There are times, 'mid gloomy forests,</p> +<p class="i4">When one longeth for companions.</p> +<p class="i4">Since I bade farewell this morning</p> +<p class="i4">To the good monks of <a name="div1Ref_pg20" href="#div1_pg20"> +St. Blasien</a>,</p> +<p class="i4">Lonely was the road and dreary.</p> +<p class="i4">Scattered here and there, a peasant,</p> +<p class="i4">Through the snow-storm running swiftly,</p> +<p class="i4">Hardly did my greeting notice.</p> +<p class="i4">Then a pair of coal-black ravens,</p> +<p class="i4">Who with hoarse discordant croakings,</p> +<p class="i4">O'er a dead mole fiercely quarrelled;</p> +<p class="i4">For the past two hours, however,</p> +<p class="i4">I not once have had the honour</p> +<p class="i4">To behold one living being.</p> +<p class="i4">And in this lone forest district,</p> +<p class="i4">Where the lofty snow-clad pine-trees</p> +<p class="i4">Look as if in shrouds enveloped,</p> +<p class="i4">I should like to have some comrades.</p> +<p class="i4">Were they even rogues or gipsies,</p> +<p class="i4">Or those two suspicious fellows</p> +<p class="i4">Who escorted the old knight once</p> +<p class="i4">Through the forest's gloom and thicket;</p> +<p class="i4"><a name="div1Ref_pg21" href="#div1_pg21">Then appeared as +Death and Devil</a>,</p> +<p class="i4">Grinning in his face with scorn!</p> +<p class="i4">I should rather ride with them now--</p> +<p class="i4">Rather fight them, or play lively</p> +<p class="i4">Dances for them, than so lonely</p> +<p class="i4">Thus to trot through this dense forest."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">All comes to an end, however,</p> +<p class="i4">Even riding through the forests.</p> +<p class="i4">Round the trunks it grew much lighter,</p> +<p class="i4">Storm and snow-clouds were receding,</p> +<p class="i4">And the blue sky smiled benignant</p> +<p class="i4">Through the dense shade of the pine-woods.</p> +<p class="i4">Thus the miner, looking upward.</p> +<p class="i4">Sees, far at the pit's mouth shining.</p> +<p class="i4">Like a star, the distant daylight,</p> +<p class="i4">Which he greets with joyful shouting.</p> +<p class="i4">Likewise such a cheerful feeling</p> +<p class="i4">Brightens up our riders face.</p> +<p class="i4">So he reached the forest's border,</p> +<p class="i4">And his eyes, so long restricted</p> +<p class="i4">By dark woods to narrow prospects,</p> +<p class="i4">Gladly swept the wide horizon.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">O how lovely woods and fields lay!</p> +<p class="i4">Green meads in the narrow valley,</p> +<p class="i4">Straw-thatched huts, low-roofed and mossy.</p> +<p class="i4">And the modest village steeple;</p> +<p class="i4">Deep below, where dusky forests</p> +<p class="i4">Stretch along unto the lowlands,</p> +<p class="i4">Like a long bright streak of silver,</p> +<p class="i4">Takes the Rhine his westward course.</p> +<p class="i4"><a name="div1Ref_pg26" href="#div1_pg26">Far off from the +island glisten</a></p> +<p class="i4">Battlements and lofty houses,</p> +<p class="i4">And the minster's two tall spires;</p> +<p class="i4">While beyond, in misty distance</p> +<p class="i4">Shining, rise up unto Heaven</p> +<p class="i4">Snowy peaks of giant mountains,</p> +<p class="i4">Guardians of Helvetia's soil.</p> +<p class="i4">As the pallid ardent thinker's</p> +<p class="i4">Eye doth glow and cheek doth redden,</p> +<p class="i4">When a thought, new and creative,</p> +<p class="i4">Through his brain has flashed like lightning,</p> +<p class="i4">So the golden light of evening</p> +<p class="i4">Glows upon the Alpine Giants.</p> +<p class="i4">(Do they dream of throes of labour</p> +<p class="i4">Which their mother-earth of old felt,</p> +<p class="i4">When they from her womb were bursting?)<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">From the horse got off our rider,</p> +<p class="i4">To a pine-tree stump he bound it,</p> +<p class="i4">Gazed in wonder at the landscape,</p> +<p class="i4">Spoke no word, but shouting tossed up</p> +<p class="i4">In the air his pointed cocked hat,</p> +<p class="i4">And began to blow a cheering</p> +<p class="i4">Joyous tune upon his trumpet.</p> +<p class="i4">To the Rhine it bore a greeting,</p> +<p class="i4">Over toward the Alps it floated,</p> +<p class="i4">Merry now, then full of feeling,</p> +<p class="i4">Like a prayer devout and solemn,</p> +<p class="i4">Then again quite roguish, joyful.</p> +<p class="i4">Now trari-trara resounded,</p> +<p class="i4">Echo's voice her plaudits sending</p> +<p class="i4">From the bosom of the forest.</p> +<p class="i4">Fair it was o'er hill and valley,</p> +<p class="i4">But fair also to behold him,</p> +<p class="i4">As he in the deep snow standing</p> +<p class="i4">Lightly on his horse was leaning;</p> +<p class="i4">Now and then a golden sunbeam</p> +<p class="i4">Glory shed on man and trumpet,</p> +<p class="i4">In the background gloomy fir-trees,</p> +<p class="i4">Farther down among the meadows</p> +<p class="i4">Rang his tunes out not unheeded!</p> +<p class="i4">There was walking then the worthy</p> +<p class="i4">Pastor of the neighbouring village,</p> +<p class="i4">Who the snow-drifts was examining,</p> +<p class="i4">Which, fast melting with the surging</p> +<p class="i4">Waters rising o'er the meadows,</p> +<p class="i4">Threatened to destroy the grass there.</p> +<p class="i4">Plunged in thought, he deeply pondered</p> +<p class="i4">How to ward off this great danger.</p> +<p class="i4">Round him bounded, loudly barking,</p> +<p class="i4">His two white and shaggy dogs.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">You who live in smoky cities,</p> +<p class="i4">And are separated wholly</p> +<p class="i4">From the simple life of nature,</p> +<p class="i4">Shrug your shoulders! for my muse will</p> +<p class="i4">Joyfully now sing the praises</p> +<p class="i4">Of a pastor in the country.</p> +<p class="i4">Simple is his life, and narrow:</p> +<p class="i4">Where the village ends, end also</p> +<p class="i4">All his labours and endeavours.</p> +<p class="i4">While men slaughtered one another,</p> +<p class="i4">In the bloody Thirty Years' War,</p> +<p class="i4">For God's honour, the calm grandeur</p> +<p class="i4">Of the Schwarzwald's solemn pine-woods</p> +<p class="i4">Breathed its peace into his soul.</p> +<p class="i4">Spider-webs spread o'er his book-shelves;</p> +<p class="i4">And, 'mid all the theologians'</p> +<p class="i4">Squabbles, he most likely never</p> +<p class="i4">Had read one polemic treatise.</p> +<p class="i4">With dogmatics altogether,</p> +<p class="i4">Science in her heavy armour,</p> +<p class="i4">He possessed but slight acquaintance.</p> +<p class="i4">But, whenever 'mongst his people</p> +<p class="i4">Could some discord be adjusted--</p> +<p class="i4">When the spiteful neighbours quarrelled;</p> +<p class="i4">When the demon of dissension</p> +<p class="i4">Marriage marred and children's duty;</p> +<p class="i4">When the daily load of sorrow</p> +<p class="i4">Heavily weighed down some poor man,</p> +<p class="i4">And the needy longing soul looked</p> +<p class="i4">Eagerly for consolation--</p> +<p class="i4">Then, as messenger from Heaven,</p> +<p class="i4">To his flock the old man hastened;</p> +<p class="i4">From the depths of his heart's treasure</p> +<p class="i4">Gave to each advice and comfort.</p> +<p class="i4">And if, in a distant village,</p> +<p class="i4">Someone lay upon a sick-bed,</p> +<p class="i4">With grim Death hard battle waging,</p> +<p class="i4">Then--at midnight--at each hour,</p> +<p class="i4">When a knock came at his hall-door--</p> +<p class="i4">E'en if snow the pathway covered--</p> +<p class="i4">Undismayed he went to comfort</p> +<p class="i4">And bestow the sacred blessing.</p> +<p class="i4">Solitary was his own life,</p> +<p class="i4">For his nearest friends were only</p> +<p class="i4">His two noble dogs (St. Bernards).</p> +<p class="i4">His reward: a little child oft</p> +<p class="i4">Bashfully approached him, kissing</p> +<p class="i4">His old hand with timid reverence;</p> +<p class="i4">Also oft a grateful smile played</p> +<p class="i4">O'er the features of the dying,</p> +<p class="i4">Which was meant for the old priest.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Unperceived the old man came now</p> +<p class="i4">By the border of the forest,</p> +<p class="i4">To the Trumpeter whose last notes</p> +<p class="i4">Rang resounding in the distance,</p> +<p class="i4">Tapped him friendly on the shoulder:</p> +<p class="i4">"My young master, may God bless you,</p> +<p class="i4">'Twas a fine tune you were playing!</p> +<p class="i4">Since the horsemen of the emperor</p> +<p class="i4">Buried here their serjeant-major,</p> +<p class="i4">Whom a Swedish cannon-ball had</p> +<p class="i4">Wounded mortally at <a name="div1Ref_pg30" href="#div1_pg30"> +Rhinefeld</a>,</p> +<p class="i4">And they blew as a farewell then</p> +<p class="i4">The Reveille for their dead comrade--</p> +<p class="i4">Though 'tis long since it has happened,</p> +<p class="i4">I have never heard such sounds here.</p> +<p class="i4">Only on the organ plays my</p> +<p class="i4">Organist, and that quite poorly;</p> +<p class="i4">Therefore I am struck with wonder</p> +<p class="i4">To encounter such an Orpheus.</p> +<p class="i4">Will you treat to such fine music</p> +<p class="i4">The wild beasts here of our forest,</p> +<p class="i4">Stag and doe, and fox and badger?</p> +<p class="i4">Or, perhaps, was it a signal,</p> +<p class="i4">Like the call of the lost huntsman?</p> +<p class="i4">I can see that you are strange here,</p> +<p class="i4">By your long sword and your doublet;</p> +<p class="i4">It is far still to the town there,</p> +<p class="i4">And the road impracticable.</p> +<p class="i4">Look, the Rhine-fog mounts already</p> +<p class="i4">High up towards these upland forests,</p> +<p class="i4">And it seems to me but prudent</p> +<p class="i4">That with me you take your lodging;</p> +<p class="i4">In the vale there stands my glebe-house,</p> +<p class="i4">Plain, 'tis true, yet horse and rider</p> +<p class="i4">Find sufficient shelter there."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Then the horseman quickly answered:</p> +<p class="i4">"Yes, I'm strange in a strange country,</p> +<p class="i4">And I have not much reflected</p> +<p class="i4">Where to-night shall be my lodging.</p> +<p class="i4">To be sure, in these free forests</p> +<p class="i4">A free heart can sleep if need be;</p> +<p class="i4">But your courteous invitation</p> +<p class="i4">I most gratefully accept."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Then unfastened he his horse and</p> +<p class="i4">Led it gently by the bridle,</p> +<p class="i4">And the Pastor and the rider</p> +<p class="i4">Like old friends walked to the village</p> +<p class="i4">In the twilight of the evening.</p> +<p class="i4">By the window of the glebe-house</p> +<p class="i4">The old cook stood, looking serious;</p> +<p class="i4">Mournfully her hands she lifted,</p> +<p class="i4">Took a pinch of snuff and cried out:</p> +<p class="i4">"Good St. Agnes! good St. Agnes!</p> +<p class="i4">Stand by me in this my trouble!</p> +<p class="i4">Thoughtlessly my kind old master</p> +<p class="i4">Brings again a guest to stay here;</p> +<p class="i4">What a thorough devastation</p> +<p class="i4">Will he make in my good larder!</p> +<p class="i4">Now farewell, you lovely brook-trout,</p> +<p class="i4">Which I had reserved for Sunday,</p> +<p class="i4">When the Dean of <a name="div1Ref_pg32" href="#div1_pg32">Wehr</a> +will dine here.</p> +<p class="i4">Now farewell, thou hough of bacon!</p> +<p class="i4">The old clucking hen, I fear much,</p> +<p class="i4">Also now must fall a victim,</p> +<p class="i4">And the stranger's hungry horse will</p> +<p class="i4">Revel in our store of oats."<p> +</div></div> +<br> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_pt2" href="#div1Ref_pt2">SECOND PART.</a></h2> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<h3>YOUNG WERNER WITH THE SCHWARZWALD PASTOR.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Snugly in the well-warmed chamber,</p> +<p class="i4">Now before the supper table,</p> +<p class="i4">Sat the Trumpeter and Pastor,</p> +<p class="i4">On the dish, right hot and steaming</p> +<p class="i4">Had a roasted fowl paraded,</p> +<p class="i4">But it had completely vanished;</p> +<p class="i4">Only now a spicy fragrance</p> +<p class="i4">Floated gently through the chamber,</p> +<p class="i4">Like the songs by which the minstrel</p> +<p class="i4">Still lives on through after ages;</p> +<p class="i4">And the empty plates bore witness</p> +<p class="i4">That a great and healthy hunger</p> +<p class="i4">Lately here had been appeased.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Now the Pastor raised a brimming</p> +<p class="i4">Jug of wine, then filled the glasses</p> +<p class="i4">And began, his guest accosting:</p> +<p class="i4">"After supper 'tis the duty</p> +<p class="i4">Of the host, his guest to question:</p> +<p class="i4">Who he is, from whence he cometh?</p> +<p class="i4">Where his country and his parents?</p> +<p class="i4">In old Homer I have read oft</p> +<p class="i4">That the King of the Phæacians</p> +<p class="i4">Thus the noble hero questioned;</p> +<p class="i4">And I hope you can relate me</p> +<p class="i4">Just as many strange adventures</p> +<p class="i4">As Ulysses. Take your comfort,</p> +<p class="i4">Seat yourself in that warm corner,</p> +<p class="i4">Yonder by the stove, which is a</p> +<p class="i4">Hatching nest of solid thinking;</p> +<p class="i4">'Tis according to our custom</p> +<p class="i4">The narrator's seat of honour.</p> +<p class="i4">And I'll listen with attention.</p> +<p class="i4">Still the old man hears with pleasure</p> +<p class="i4">Of the storms of youth's wild passions."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Then the young man: "I am sorry</p> +<p class="i4">Not to be a proven hero,</p> +<p class="i4">Neither have I conquered Ilium,</p> +<p class="i4">Nor have blinded Polyphemus,</p> +<p class="i4">Neither have I ever thus far</p> +<p class="i4">Met with any Royal Princess,</p> +<p class="i4">Who when spreading out the linen</p> +<p class="i4">Felt for me a soft compassion.</p> +<p class="i4">But with pleasure I obey you."</p> +<p class="i4">On the bench he took his seat now</p> +<p class="i4">By the stove all covered over</p> +<p class="i4">With glazed tiles much ornamented.</p> +<p class="i4">From the stove streamed out warm comfort,</p> +<p class="i4">And the Pastor kindly told him</p> +<p class="i4">To stretch out his weary legs there.</p> +<p class="i4">He, however, would not do so;</p> +<p class="i4">Took a swallow of the red wine,</p> +<p class="i4">And began to tell his story:<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Know, my name is Werner Kirchhof;</p> +<p class="i4">I was born and grew to manhood,</p> +<p class="i4">In the Pfalz, at Heidelberg."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Old Heidelberg, thou beauty.</p> +<p class="i6">With many honours crowned;</p> +<p class="i4">Along the Rhine and Neckar,</p> +<p class="i6">No town like thee is found.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Thou town of merry fellows,</p> +<p class="i6">Of wisdom full and wine,</p> +<p class="i4">Clear flows thy placid river,</p> +<p class="i6">Blue eyes therein do shine.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">When from the south is spreading</p> +<p class="i6">Spring's smile o'er hill and lea,</p> +<p class="i4">He out of blossoms weaveth</p> +<p class="i6">A bridal robe for thee.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Thee as a bride I fondly</p> +<p class="i6">Enshrine within my heart;</p> +<p class="i4">Like early love's sweet echoes,</p> +<p class="i6">Thy name doth joy impart.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Become life's cares too burning,</p> +<p class="i6">And all abroad looks bare,</p> +<p class="i4">I'll spur my good horse homeward</p> +<p class="i6">To the Neckar vale so fair.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"On the borders of the Neckar</p> +<p class="i4">I have dreamt sweet dreams of childhood,</p> +<p class="i4">Also have a school attended,</p> +<p class="i4">Greek and Latin there have studied;</p> +<p class="i4">And a thirsty old musician</p> +<p class="i4">Taught me how to blow the trumpet.</p> +<p class="i4">When I reached my eighteenth birthday,</p> +<p class="i4">Said my guardian: 'You, young Werner,</p> +<p class="i4">With a clever head are gifted,</p> +<p class="i4">And are somewhat of a genius,</p> +<p class="i4">And cut out of right material;</p> +<p class="i4">You must now become a lawyer.</p> +<p class="i4">That brings office and great honours,</p> +<p class="i4">Gathers also golden ducats.</p> +<p class="i4">And already I do see you</p> +<p class="i4">As the well-appointed bailiff</p> +<p class="i4">Of His Grace the Grand Elector;</p> +<p class="i4">And I then must pay you homage.</p> +<p class="i4">I will venture the prediction,</p> +<p class="i4">If you act quite circumspectly,</p> +<p class="i4">Then a seat may yet await you</p> +<p class="i4">In th' Imperial Court at Wetzlar.'</p> +<p class="i4">Thus I then became a lawyer;</p> +<p class="i4">Bought myself a great big inkstand,</p> +<p class="i4">Also bought a huge portfolio,</p> +<p class="i4">And a heavy Corpus Juris,</p> +<p class="i4">And the lecture-room frequented,</p> +<p class="i4">Where, with yellow mummy visage,</p> +<p class="i4">Samuel Brunnquell, the professor,</p> +<p class="i4">Roman law to us expounded.</p> +<p class="i4">Roman law, when I recall it,</p> +<p class="i4">On my heart it lies like nightmare,</p> +<p class="i4">Like a millstone on my stomach,</p> +<p class="i4">And my head feels dull and stupid.</p> +<p class="i4">To much nonsense did I listen,</p> +<p class="i4">How they in the Roman Forum</p> +<p class="i4">Snarling, quarrelled with each other;</p> +<p class="i4">How Sir Gaius stuck to his point,</p> +<p class="i4">And to his Sir Ulpianus;</p> +<p class="i4">How then later comers dabbled.</p> +<p class="i4">Till the Emperor Justinianus,</p> +<p class="i4">He of all the greatest dabbler,</p> +<p class="i4">Sent them home about their business.</p> +<p class="i4">And I often asked the question:</p> +<p class="i4">'Must it really be our fate then</p> +<p class="i4">These dry bones to gnaw forever,</p> +<p class="i4">Which were flung to us as remnants</p> +<p class="i4">From their banquets by the Romans?</p> +<p class="i4">Why should not, from soil Germanic,</p> +<p class="i4">Spring the flower of her own law,</p> +<p class="i4">Simple, full of forest fragrance--</p> +<p class="i4">No luxuriant southern climber?</p> +<p class="i4">Sad fate of the late-born races!</p> +<p class="i4">Must read till their brows are sweating,</p> +<p class="i4">And must try to disentangle</p> +<p class="i4">Knotty twisted skeins forever.</p> +<p class="i4">Can't we have a sword to cut them?'<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Often, nightly, by the lamp-light</p> +<p class="i4">I sat poring o'er the Codex,</p> +<p class="i4">Read the Glossary and <a name="div1Ref_pg38" href="#div1_pg38"> +Cujacius</a></p> +<p class="i4">Till my weary brain was racking;</p> +<p class="i4">But this zeal brought me no blessing.</p> +<p class="i4">Merrily would then my thoughts fly</p> +<p class="i4">From my studies to that time when</p> +<p class="i4">Old Cujacius' lovely daughter</p> +<p class="i4">Mounted in her father's rostrum,</p> +<p class="i4">With her voice sweet and melodious,</p> +<p class="i4">Read for him his written lectures</p> +<p class="i4">To the lucky youth of Paris.</p> +<p class="i4">Usucaption and inheritance,</p> +<p class="i4">And Novella hundred and eighteen,</p> +<p class="i4">Changed into a dark-haired maiden</p> +<p class="i4">Peeping from the Corpus Juris.</p> +<p class="i4">From my trembling hands the pen fell,</p> +<p class="i4">Overturned were sand and inkstand,</p> +<p class="i4">And I caught hold of the trumpet:</p> +<p class="i4">Usucaption and inheritance,</p> +<p class="i4">And Novella hundred and eighteen,</p> +<p class="i4">Wailing in adagio tempo.</p> +<p class="i4">Flew forth from the study window</p> +<p class="i4">Far into the starry night.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Yes, this zeal brought me no blessing.</p> +<p class="i4">I one day went from my lodging,</p> +<p class="i4">'Neath my arm the Corpus Juris</p> +<p class="i4">('Twas the Elzevir edition,</p> +<p class="i4">Which at Rotterdam was published)</p> +<p class="i4">To the Heugass', to the pawn-house,</p> +<p class="i4">Where the Jew, Levi Ben Machol,</p> +<p class="i4">With his squinting eyes rapacious,</p> +<p class="i4">Took it in his arms paternal,</p> +<p class="i4">Paid me then two golden ducats--</p> +<p class="i4">Someone else may now redeem it!</p> +<p class="i4">I became a saucy fellow,</p> +<p class="i4">Wandered much o'er hill and valley</p> +<p class="i4">Clinking spurs and serenading.</p> +<p class="i4">If I ever caught one sneering,</p> +<p class="i4">Quickly grasped my hand the rapier:</p> +<p class="i4">'Fight a duel! draw your weapons!</p> +<p class="i4">Now advance!' That whistled nicely</p> +<p class="i4">Through the air; on many smooth cheeks</p> +<p class="i4">Wrote my sword so sharp and steady</p> +<p class="i4">A memento everlasting.</p> +<p class="i4">I, however, must confess here,</p> +<p class="i4">That I did not choose the finest</p> +<p class="i4">Company to wander round with.</p> +<p class="i4">What I liked, was to sit drinking</p> +<p class="i4">Up in the Elector's Castle,</p> +<p class="i4">By our age's greatest marvel</p> +<p class="i4">Which the German mind has wrought out,</p> +<p class="i4">By the tun of Heidelberg.</p> +<p class="i4">A most worthy hermit dwelt there,</p> +<p class="i4">Who was the Elector's court fool,</p> +<p class="i4">Was my dear old friend Perkéo;</p> +<p class="i4">Who had out of life's wild whirlpool</p> +<p class="i4">Peacefully withdrawn himself where</p> +<p class="i4">He could meditate while drinking,</p> +<p class="i4">And the cellar was his refuge.</p> +<p class="i4">Here he lived, his care dividing</p> +<p class="i4">'Twixt himself and the big wine-tun;</p> +<p class="i4">And he loved it--truer friendship</p> +<p class="i4">Never has the world yet witnessed;</p> +<p class="i4">'Twas as if it were his bride.</p> +<p class="i4">With a broom he swept it shining,</p> +<p class="i4">Chased away the ugly spiders,</p> +<p class="i4">And whenever came a feast-day,</p> +<p class="i4">Hung it o'er with wreaths of ivy;</p> +<p class="i4">Sang to it the morning greeting,</p> +<p class="i4">Also sang the song of evening,</p> +<p class="i4">And he carved in wood the image</p> +<p class="i4">Of himself as his best offering.</p> +<p class="i4">But when sipping his reward then</p> +<p class="i4">From the big tun's mouth with kisses,</p> +<p class="i4">Forth he launched in flights of fancy.</p> +<p class="i4">Often at his feet I listened</p> +<p class="i4">To his odd and comic speeches:</p> +<p class="i4">'There above, they call me foolish,</p> +<p class="i4">Let them gossip, my dear fellow,</p> +<p class="i4">Gossip never doth annoy me.</p> +<p class="i4">Oh, the world has grown quite stupid!</p> +<p class="i4">How they grope, and how they stumble,</p> +<p class="i4">Over paths, to find what Truth is;</p> +<p class="i4">Still in fog they are enveloped.</p> +<p class="i4">To the first cause of all being</p> +<p class="i4">We must needs go back, and bring the</p> +<p class="i4">Last result of our researches</p> +<p class="i4">In a concrete form together.</p> +<p class="i4">Thus we comprehend the world well;</p> +<p class="i4">For this purpose I am drinking</p> +<p class="i4">Truly cosmogonically.</p> +<p class="i4">Mundane space to me is nothing</p> +<p class="i4">But a roomy vaulted cellar,</p> +<p class="i4">Where as first and central wine-tun,</p> +<p class="i4">Firmly stands the sun erected!</p> +<p class="i4">Next to him the rank and file of</p> +<p class="i4">Smaller casks, fixed stars and planets.</p> +<p class="i4">As the divers casks are holding</p> +<p class="i4">Wines of various sorts and flavours,</p> +<p class="i4">So comprise the heavenly bodies</p> +<p class="i4">Various spiritual natures.</p> +<p class="i4">Land-wine this--that Rüdesheimer;</p> +<p class="i4">But the earth-cask holds a mixture;</p> +<p class="i4">Fermentation has half clouded</p> +<p class="i4">And half volatilised the spirit</p> +<p class="i4">The antagony of matter</p> +<p class="i4">And of spirit is, by thinking,</p> +<p class="i4">Blended into higher union.</p> +<p class="i4">Thus soars my creative genius</p> +<p class="i4">Far on high, while I am drinking.</p> +<p class="i4">And when through my brain are rushing</p> +<p class="i4">Revelations from the wine-fumes,</p> +<p class="i4">And when then my feeble body</p> +<p class="i4">Tottering sinks down by the wine-tun,</p> +<p class="i4">'Tis the triumph of the spirit,</p> +<p class="i4">'Tis the act of self-deliverance</p> +<p class="i4">From the narrow bounds of being.</p> +<p class="i4">Thus my solitude doth teach me</p> +<p class="i4">Nature's everlasting system.</p> +<p class="i4">With mankind it would be better,</p> +<p class="i4">Had the great Germanic race but</p> +<p class="i4">Understood their high vocation,</p> +<p class="i4">And throughout the world had carried</p> +<p class="i4">High the standard of the wine-cask,</p> +<p class="i4">Made of drinking a devotion--</p> +<p class="i4">As the Persians worship fire!'</p> +<p class="i4">O Perkéo! better were it</p> +<p class="i4">Now with me, if to thy wisdom</p> +<p class="i4">I had never, never listened!</p> +<p class="i4">'Twas a sharp cold winter morning,</p> +<p class="i4">When down in the cosy cellar</p> +<p class="i4">We were taking a potation,</p> +<p class="i4">Talking philosophically;</p> +<p class="i4">But when I stepped out at midday,</p> +<p class="i4">The whole world and everybody</p> +<p class="i4">Looked most strangely queer and funny.</p> +<p class="i4">Rosy hues lit up all Nature,</p> +<p class="i4">Angel-voices I heard plainly.</p> +<p class="i4">On the balcony of the castle</p> +<p class="i4">Stood surrounded by her ladies,</p> +<p class="i4">Full of grace, of all the fairest,</p> +<p class="i4">The Electress Leonora,</p> +<p class="i4">Up to her start my bold glances,</p> +<p class="i4">Up to her my daring longing;</p> +<p class="i4">Clouded was my understanding.</p> +<p class="i4">Quickly I approached the terrace</p> +<p class="i4">And began to sing the wild air</p> +<p class="i4">Which the <a name="div1Ref_pg43" href="#div1_pg43">Palsgrave +Frederic</a> once sang,</p> +<p class="i4">As a love-sick serenader,</p> +<p class="i4">To his lovely English bride."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> + +<p class="i0">I kneel to thee as thy faithful true knight,</p> +<p class="i0">Fair Princess, of women the pearl!</p> +<p class="i4">Command, and I fight the Emperor's host,</p> +<p class="i4">Command, and I hold the most dangerous post,</p> +<p class="i0">To atoms the world I will hurl.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">I'll fetch thee from Heaven the sun and the moon.</p> +<p class="i4">Fair Princess, of women the crown!</p> +<p class="i6">I'll fetch countless stars from yon azure height,</p> +<p class="i6">Spit them like frogs on my spear sharp and bright,</p> +<p class="i4">And low at your feet lay them down.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Command, I will even become a fool,</p> +<p class="i4">Fair Princess, of women the prize!</p> +<p class="i6">Indeed, I am one already I see,</p> +<p class="i6">The light is far too dazzling for me,</p> +<p class="i4">Which streams from thy sunny blue eyes.<p> +</div> + + +<p class="center" style="margin-right:20%"><span class="space">* * * * *</span><p> + + + +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Do you hear the trumpets blowing?</p> +<p class="i4">Do you hear the cannon roaring?</p> +<p class="i4">There, near Prague, at Weissenberg, now</p> +<p class="i4">For Bohemia's throne they're fighting.</p> +<p class="i4">Palsgrave, 'twas a short sad winter!</p> +<p class="i4">Palsgrave, thou wast sore defeated!</p> +<p class="i4">Spur thy horse and seek a refuge!<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"O thou fairest of all women,</p> +<p class="i4">From my dream what an awaking!</p> +<p class="i4">For there came to me the Beadle,</p> +<p class="i4">Summoned me before the Rector.</p> +<p class="i4">Grimly wrinkled he his forehead,</p> +<p class="i4">Wild with rage his locks were shaking;</p> +<p class="i4">Sternly he pronounced my sentence--</p> +<p class="i4">His Magnificence the Rector:</p> +<p class="i4">'For your unpermitted blowing,</p> +<p class="i4">For your unpermitted sing-song</p> +<p class="i4">In the Castle's sacred precincts,</p> +<p class="i4">You must quit the town and college</p> +<p class="i4">In three days; by special favour</p> +<p class="i4">Of our gracious sovereign princess,</p> +<p class="i4">Further punishment is spared.'<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Leave the town now--was I dreaming?</p> +<p class="i4">No, it was a fact well founded.</p> +<p class="i4">But before I left the city,</p> +<p class="i4">All my debts I fully settled,</p> +<p class="i4">In such cases quite unusual;</p> +<p class="i4">And I rode on the third morning</p> +<p class="i4">Out of Heidelberg; the fourth day</p> +<p class="i4">Out of the Elector's country</p> +<p class="i4">Unoffended; though my home had</p> +<p class="i4">Thrust me out--the bolts drawn on me--</p> +<p class="i4">Yet I will not cease to love her.</p> +<p class="i4">And the trumpet, cause of mischief,</p> +<p class="i4">I hung gaily on my shoulder.</p> +<p class="i4">And I augur it shall yet peal</p> +<p class="i4">Joyful tunes to help me onward.</p> +<p class="i4">I don't know now to what haven</p> +<p class="i4">Horse and tempest may yet bear me,</p> +<p class="i4">Still I look not backward more.</p> +<p class="i4">Cheerful heart and courage daring</p> +<p class="i4">Knows no sorrow, nor despairing,</p> +<p class="i4">Fortune has good luck in store.</p> +<p class="i4">Thus I came into the Schwarzwald.--</p> +<p class="i4">My kind host, pray tell me frankly</p> +<p class="i4">Whether my long tale has made you</p> +<p class="i4">Feel a heavy sleep approaching.</p> +<p class="i4">But if not, I'll be most grateful</p> +<p class="i4">If you'll give me some advice."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Smiling rang the good old Pastor</p> +<p class="i4">Glass to glass, and smiling said he:</p> +<p class="i4">"Your tale has a lucky ending.</p> +<p class="i4">I remember quite another,</p> +<p class="i4"><a name="div1Ref_pg46" href="#div1_pg46">Of a young and +handsome carpenter</a>,</p> +<p class="i4">And a Margravine's allurements.</p> +<p class="i4">But it ended on the gallows.</p> +<p class="i4">In this case, I am much puzzled</p> +<p class="i4">How to give you good advice.</p> +<p class="i4">In my code it is not written</p> +<p class="i4">How to counsel such a person,</p> +<p class="i4">Who with songs insults fair ladies,</p> +<p class="i4">Leaves his law books in the pawn-house,</p> +<p class="i4">With his trumpet loudly bloweth</p> +<p class="i4">To himself a rosy future.</p> +<p class="i4">But when human knowledge faileth,</p> +<p class="i4">Heaven graciously doth help us.</p> +<p class="i4">Way down in the forest-city,</p> +<p class="i4">There in Säkkingen is a worthy</p> +<p class="i4">Patron saint of all young people,</p> +<p class="i4">Is the holy Fridolinus,</p> +<p class="i4">And to-morrow is his feast-day.</p> +<p class="i4">Never has he yet forsaken</p> +<p class="i4">Him who prays for help in trouble;</p> +<p class="i4">Therefore ask Saint Fridolinus."<p> +</div></div> +<br> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_pt3" href="#div1Ref_pt3">THIRD PART.</a></h2> +<br> +<h3>ST. FRIDOLIN'S DAY.</h3> +<br> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Lo! a ship comes o'er the ocean,</p> +<p class="i4">Near Franconia's coast approaching,</p> +<p class="i4">Foreign sails and foreign pendant.</p> +<p class="i4">At the rudder sits a pale man,</p> +<p class="i4">Clad in black and monkish robes.</p> +<p class="i4">Hollow, like a mournful wailing,</p> +<p class="i4">Sounds the strange speech of the pilgrims,</p> +<p class="i4">Sound their prayers, and cries of sailors.</p> +<p class="i4">'Tis the ancient Celtic language</p> +<p class="i4">From the Emerald Isle of Erin;</p> +<p class="i4">And the vessel bears the pious</p> +<p class="i4">Missionary Fridolinus.</p> +<p class="i4">"Cease thy grieving, dearest mother;</p> +<p class="i4">Not with sword nor with the war-axe</p> +<p class="i4">Shall thy son gain fame and honour:</p> +<p class="i4">Other ages, other weapons--</p> +<p class="i4">Faith and Love are my sole armour.</p> +<p class="i4">For the love I bear my Saviour</p> +<p class="i4">I go forth unto the heathen;</p> +<p class="i4">Celtic blood impels me onward.</p> +<p class="i4">And in dreams I've seen a vision--</p> +<p class="i4">A strange land and pine-clad mountains,</p> +<p class="i4">A clear stream with a green island,</p> +<p class="i4">Most as fair as my own country;</p> +<p class="i4">Thither points the Lord His finger,</p> +<p class="i4">Thither sails now Fridolinus."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">With a few choice Irish comrades,</p> +<p class="i4">Filled with earnest, calm devotion,</p> +<p class="i4">Fridolin sailed o'er the ocean;</p> +<p class="i4">Came into the Frankish Empire,</p> +<p class="i4">Where at Paris reigned King <a name="div1Ref_pg49" href="#div1_pg49"> +Clovis</a>.</p> +<p class="i4">Smiling spake he to the pilgrims:</p> +<p class="i4">"I had never great affection</p> +<p class="i4">For the saints and monkish orders;</p> +<p class="i4">Since, however, the accursèd</p> +<p class="i4">Allemanic lances whistled</p> +<p class="i4">Nearer me than I thought pleasant</p> +<p class="i4">On the battlefield of Zulpich,</p> +<p class="i4">I have changed my mind entirely--</p> +<p class="i4">Even kings will pray in danger.</p> +<p class="i4">Where you wander I'll protect you.</p> +<p class="i4">And unto your special notice</p> +<p class="i4">Recommend the Allemanni:</p> +<p class="i4">They are stubborn and thick-headed,</p> +<p class="i4">They are still most dogged heathen;</p> +<p class="i4">Try to make them good and pious."</p> +<p class="i4">Farther on the little band went,</p> +<p class="i4">To the land of the Helvetians;</p> +<p class="i4">There began their serious labour,</p> +<p class="i4">And the holy cross was planted</p> +<p class="i4">At the foot of snow-clad Säntis,</p> +<p class="i4">Planted by the Bodensee.</p> +<p class="i4">When descending from the Jura</p> +<p class="i4">Fridolinus saw the ruins</p> +<p class="i4">Of <a name="div1Ref_pg50" href="#div1_pg50">Augusta Rauracorum</a>--</p> +<p class="i4">Roman walls--there still projected</p> +<p class="i4">From the rubbish mighty columns</p> +<p class="i4">Of the Temple of Serapis.</p> +<p class="i4">But the Altar and the Cella</p> +<p class="i4">Were o'ergrown with tangled brambles;</p> +<p class="i4">And the ox-head of Serapis</p> +<p class="i4">Had been built in o'er the stable</p> +<p class="i4">By an Allemanic peasant,</p> +<p class="i4">Whose forefathers had most likely</p> +<p class="i4">Killed the last priest of Serapis.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Seeing this then, Fridolinus</p> +<p class="i4">Crossed himself and travelled onward,</p> +<p class="i4">By the green banks of the river.</p> +<p class="i4">Evening came, and far already</p> +<p class="i4">Had the pious man now wandered.</p> +<p class="i4">There beheld he, how the river</p> +<p class="i4">Flowed in two divided branches;</p> +<p class="i4">And in the green waters smiling</p> +<p class="i4">Rose before him a small island,</p> +<p class="i4">Sack like lying in the river.</p> +<p class="i4">(Hence the peasants, who are never</p> +<p class="i4">Over squeamish in comparing,</p> +<p class="i4">Called the isle Sacconium.)</p> +<p class="i4">Evening came; the larks were singing</p> +<p class="i4">Fish sprang snapping from the water;</p> +<p class="i4">Through the heart of Fridolinus</p> +<p class="i4">Thrilled a thankful pious gladness.</p> +<p class="i4">On his knees he sank down praying,</p> +<p class="i4">For he recognised the island</p> +<p class="i4">As the vision of his dreaming--</p> +<p class="i4">And he praised the Lord in Heaven.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Oft, 'tis true, have many of us</p> +<p class="i4">Mortals in these modern ages</p> +<p class="i4">Also dreamt of tranquil islands,</p> +<p class="i4">Where we happily might nestle,</p> +<p class="i4">And the weary heart refresh with</p> +<p class="i4">Forest calm and Sabbath quiet.</p> +<p class="i4">Many also go with ardent</p> +<p class="i4">Longing on the journey, but when</p> +<p class="i4">Nearing as they hope their island,</p> +<p class="i4">Suddenly it fades before them,</p> +<p class="i4">As in southern climes the airy</p> +<p class="i4">Image of the fay Morgana.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Full of wonder, a wild native</p> +<p class="i4">Sculled the stranger to the island,</p> +<p class="i4">On a raft made of rough pine logs.</p> +<p class="i4">Wild the island: limes and alders</p> +<p class="i4">In low marshes here were growing;</p> +<p class="i4">On the shore with pebbles covered,</p> +<p class="i4">Also stood huge ancient willows;</p> +<p class="i4">And some scattered huts with thatched roofs.</p> +<p class="i4">Here in summer, when the salmon</p> +<p class="i4">Are migrating up the river,</p> +<p class="i4">Eager fishermen stand waiting</p> +<p class="i4">With their long sharp pikes to spear them.</p> +<p class="i6">Unremitting to his labour</p> +<p class="i4">Went the saint--soon stood his log-house</p> +<p class="i4">On the solid ground erected;</p> +<p class="i4">Near the house the cross he planted.</p> +<p class="i4">When the bell at dusk of evening</p> +<p class="i4">Rang out far, Ave Maria!</p> +<p class="i4">And he prayed devoutly kneeling;</p> +<p class="i4">From the Rhine vale, many people</p> +<p class="i4">Timidly looked at the island.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Fierce and stubborn were these Almains.</p> +<p class="i4">Once the Roman gods they hated;</p> +<p class="i4">Now Franconia's God they hated,</p> +<p class="i4">Who at Zulpich, like a tempest,</p> +<p class="i4">Had o'erthrown their mighty host.</p> +<p class="i6">When the lazy master idly</p> +<p class="i4">Took his rest on winter evenings,</p> +<p class="i4">And, with eager zest, the women</p> +<p class="i4">Set their tongues in busy motion,</p> +<p class="i4">And of this and that they gossiped--</p> +<p class="i4">How the jug of milk had curdled,</p> +<p class="i4">How the hut was struck by lightning,</p> +<p class="i4">How a youth was badly injured</p> +<p class="i4">By a boar's sharp tusk when hunting--</p> +<p class="i4">Then in warning spoke the crafty</p> +<p class="i4">Aged Allemanic grandam:</p> +<p class="i6">"No one else have we to blame but</p> +<p class="i4">Him who dwells on yonder island--</p> +<p class="i4">That old pallid, praying stranger.</p> +<p class="i4">Trust ye not, I pray, the new God</p> +<p class="i4">Of the Franks, nor false King Clovis!"</p> +<p class="i6">And they feared the pious stranger.</p> +<p class="i4">Once, upon the summer solstice,</p> +<p class="i4">They all came unto his island,</p> +<p class="i4">Drank there--after ancient custom--</p> +<p class="i4">Mead from their enormous tankards;</p> +<p class="i4">And they tried to seize the stranger,</p> +<p class="i4">But he had gone down the river.</p> +<p class="i6">"We will leave this pallid man, then,</p> +<p class="i4">Tokens that we've held our feast here!"</p> +<p class="i4">Soon some lighted brands were flying</p> +<p class="i4">In the hut of Fridolinus;</p> +<p class="i4">And they sprang rejoicing through the</p> +<p class="i4">Flames in singing, "Praised be Woden!"</p> +<p class="i4">From the distance gazed with pleasure</p> +<p class="i4">The old grandam, and her face shone</p> +<p class="i4">Ghastly in the lurid light.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Fridolinus, when returning,</p> +<p class="i4">Saw his hut laid waste in ashes;</p> +<p class="i4">And he said, then smiling sadly:</p> +<p class="i4">"Lord, I thank thee for these trials,</p> +<p class="i4">As they but increase my courage."</p> +<p class="i4">Then he built anew his dwelling,</p> +<p class="i4">And soon found an entrance open</p> +<p class="i4">To the rough hearts of his neighbours.</p> +<p class="i4">First the children, then the women,</p> +<p class="i4">Listened to his gentle language;</p> +<p class="i4">And some of the stubborn fellows</p> +<p class="i4">Looked approval, when he showed them</p> +<p class="i4">How in Erin, his own country,</p> +<p class="i4">They could spear the salmon better;</p> +<p class="i4">When he sang them ancient legends--</p> +<p class="i4">How, upon the Caledonian</p> +<p class="i4">Cliffs, had raged a mighty battle</p> +<p class="i4">With the Romans; and how Fingal</p> +<p class="i4">Overthrew young Caracalla.</p> +<p class="i4">Then they said: "A strong and mighty</p> +<p class="i4">God has sent this man here to us;</p> +<p class="i4">And a good God, for this stranger</p> +<p class="i4">Bringeth blessing on our fishing."</p> +<p class="i4">And in vain the grandam warned them:</p> +<p class="i4">"Trust ye not, I pray, the new God</p> +<p class="i4">Of the Franks and false King Clovis!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Yes, he touched these hearts so rugged</p> +<p class="i4">Taught to them the Christian doctrine;</p> +<p class="i4">And they understood that giving</p> +<p class="i4">Is more blessed than receiving;</p> +<p class="i4">That it was the Son of God who</p> +<p class="i4">On the cross for men did suffer.</p> +<p class="i4">Hardly had a year passed over--</p> +<p class="i4">'Twas Palm-Sunday--when descended,</p> +<p class="i4">From the slopes of all the mountains,</p> +<p class="i4">A great throng, who then rowed over</p> +<p class="i4">To the isle of Fridolinus.</p> +<p class="i4">Peacefully there on the island,</p> +<p class="i4">Sword, and shield, and axe they laid down;</p> +<p class="i4">And the children gaily gathered</p> +<p class="i4">For themselves the willow blossoms</p> +<p class="i4">And sweet violets by the river.</p> +<p class="i4">From his hut came Fridolinus,</p> +<p class="i4">Fully robed in priestly vestments;</p> +<p class="i4">By his side walked his companions</p> +<p class="i4">Who had come from distant places:</p> +<p class="i4">Gallas from Helvetia; also</p> +<p class="i4">From the Bodensee Columban.</p> +<p class="i4">And they led down to the shore then</p> +<p class="i4">The great throng of the converted,</p> +<p class="i4">And baptised them in the name of</p> +<p class="i4">Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">She alone did not come with them</p> +<p class="i4">To the isle of Fridolinus,</p> +<p class="i4">She the old and stubborn grandam;</p> +<p class="i4">And she said: "No new gods need I,</p> +<p class="i4">As my life is fast declining.</p> +<p class="i4">I'm contented with the old ones,</p> +<p class="i4">Who to me are kind and gracious,</p> +<p class="i4">Who once gave me my dear husband--</p> +<p class="i4">My good, noble Siegebert.</p> +<p class="i4">When'er Death from here should take me,</p> +<p class="i4">I could never hope to find him;</p> +<p class="i4">And for him my heart is yearning.</p> +<p class="i4">In the woods I must be buried,</p> +<p class="i4">Where the mandrake grows 'neath fir-trees</p> +<p class="i4">Which with mistletoe are covered.</p> +<p class="i4">I don't wish a cross on my grave,</p> +<p class="i4">Shall not envy it to others."</p> +<p class="i6">On that very day, however,</p> +<p class="i4">Fridolin laid the foundations</p> +<p class="i4">Of the cloister and the city;</p> +<p class="i4">And his work waxed ever greater,</p> +<p class="i4">And afar throughout the country</p> +<p class="i4">Was the holy man revered.</p> +<p class="i4">When again he paid a visit</p> +<p class="i4">To King Clovis' court, in Paris,</p> +<p class="i4">On his right the king did place him,</p> +<p class="i4">And then solemnly donated</p> +<p class="i4">The whole island to his cloister,</p> +<p class="i4">And, besides, large tracts of country;</p> +<p class="i4">Even a great saint became he.</p> +<p class="i4">Have ye never heard the legend</p> +<p class="i4">Of the court-day, and <a name="div1Ref_pg56" href="#div1_pg56"> +Count Ursus</a>,</p> +<p class="i4">Which the statues o'er the church door</p> +<p class="i4">Have preserved e'en to the present?</p> +<p class="i4">A great saint, indeed, became he,</p> +<p class="i4">And is still the Rhineland's patron.</p> +<p class="i4">To this day prevails the custom</p> +<p class="i4">That the peasants have their first-born</p> +<p class="i4">By the name of Fridli christened.<p> +</div> + +<p class="center" style="margin-right:30%"><span class="space"> * * * *</span><p> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">On the sixth of March young Werner</p> +<p class="i4">Gaily parted from the glebe-house;</p> +<p class="i4">Gratefully he shook the hand of</p> +<p class="i4">The good pastor, who sincerely</p> +<p class="i4">Wished him a most pleasant journey.</p> +<p class="i4">And the old cook was completely</p> +<p class="i4">Reconciled unto the stranger;</p> +<p class="i4">Bashfully she cast her eyes down</p> +<p class="i4">To the ground, while deeply blushing,</p> +<p class="i4">When young Werner, out of mischief,</p> +<p class="i4">Kissed his hand to her, when leaving.</p> +<p class="i4">Barking ran the two St. Bernards</p> +<p class="i4">A long distance with our rider.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Bright and warm the sun was shining</p> +<p class="i4">On the town of Fridolinus;</p> +<p class="i4">Solemn peals afar resounded,</p> +<p class="i4">From the organ of the minster,</p> +<p class="i4">As young Werner through the gate rode.</p> +<p class="i4">Quickly found he first good shelter</p> +<p class="i4">For his horse, and then he walked on</p> +<p class="i4">To the crowded lively market,</p> +<p class="i4">Went up to the old Cathedral,</p> +<p class="i4">And he stood with head uncovered</p> +<p class="i4">By the portal, where was passing</p> +<p class="i4">Then the festive long procession.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Through the war the precious relics</p> +<p class="i4">Of the Saint had been well hidden</p> +<p class="i4">In old <a name="div1Ref_pg58" href="#div1_pg58">Laufenburg's</a> +strong castle.</p> +<p class="i4">They had often in the city</p> +<p class="i4">Missed their presence with much sorrow.</p> +<p class="i4">Now that peace once more was settled,</p> +<p class="i4">They were striving with fresh ardour</p> +<p class="i4">To do honour to their saint.</p> +<p class="i4">At the head of the procession</p> +<p class="i4">Came gay troops of merry children.</p> +<p class="i4">But when they too loudly prattled,</p> +<p class="i4">Then their old and gray-haired teacher</p> +<p class="i4">Pulled them by the ear and scolded:</p> +<p class="i6">"Keep quite still, my little people!</p> +<p class="i4">Take great care, for Fridolinus</p> +<p class="i4">May be listening to your gabbling.</p> +<p class="i4">He, a Saint severe and holy,</p> +<p class="i4">Will complain of you in Heaven."</p> +<p class="i6">Twelve young men came next, who bore the</p> +<p class="i4">Coffin, rich with gold and silver,</p> +<p class="i4">Which enclosed the Saint's remains.</p> +<p class="i4">Bearing it they chanted softly:<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Thou who dwellest high in Heaven,</p> +<p class="i4">Bless thy people and thy city,</p> +<p class="i4">Stretch o'er us thy arms of mercy,</p> +<p class="i6">Fridolinus, Fridolinus!</p> +<p class="i4">Grant us further thy protection;</p> +<p class="i4">From all danger mayst thou guard us,</p> +<p class="i4">War and pestilence keep from us,</p> +<p class="i6">Fridolinus, Fridolinus!<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Then the Dean and all the Chaplains</p> +<p class="i4">Followed after--bearing tapers</p> +<p class="i4">Came the youthful Burgomaster,</p> +<p class="i4">Came the town's wise Corporation</p> +<p class="i4">And the other dignitaries:</p> +<p class="i4">Bailiff, Revenue-receiver,</p> +<p class="i4">Syndic, Notary, Attorney,</p> +<p class="i4">And the old Chief Ranger also.</p> +<p class="i4">(He came only for decorum,</p> +<p class="i4">For with Mother Church and Saints' Days</p> +<p class="i4">He was not upon good footing,</p> +<p class="i4">Prayed much rather in the forest.)</p> +<p class="i4">E'en the Messenger and Sergeant</p> +<p class="i4">Did not then, as was their custom,</p> +<p class="i4">Take a morning draught together,</p> +<p class="i4">But joined gravely the procession.</p> +<p class="i4">Then in dusky Spanish mantles,</p> +<p class="i4">Ornamented with white crosses,</p> +<p class="i4">Came the great Teutonic Order,</p> +<p class="i4">All the Knights and their Commander.</p> +<p class="i4">Down the river stood in <a name="div1Ref_pg59" href="#div1_pg59"> +Beuggen</a></p> +<p class="i4">The Teutonic Order's Castle</p> +<p class="i4">Whence at early dawn of morning</p> +<p class="i4">All these knights had come on horseback.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Then came black-robed, grave and aged,</p> +<p class="i4">Noble ladies of the Convent,</p> +<p class="i4">And in front by the blue standard</p> +<p class="i4">Walked the aged Lady Abbess,</p> +<p class="i4">And her thoughts were: "Fridolinus,</p> +<p class="i4">Though thou art so full of kindness,</p> +<p class="i4">One thing thou canst ne'er restore me,</p> +<p class="i4">'Tis my youth, so fair and golden.</p> +<p class="i4">It was charming fifty years since,</p> +<p class="i4">When my cheeks were red like roses,</p> +<p class="i4">And when many knights were captured</p> +<p class="i4">In the meshes of my glances!</p> +<p class="i4">Long have I done penance for this,</p> +<p class="i4">And I hope it is forgiven.</p> +<p class="i4">Deeply wrinkled is my forehead,</p> +<p class="i4">While the cheeks and lips are faded.</p> +<p class="i4">And the sunken mouth is toothless."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Next the train of noble ladies</p> +<p class="i4">Came the burghers' comely housewives,</p> +<p class="i4">At the end the elder matrons.</p> +<p class="i4">Only one in work-day garments</p> +<p class="i4">Kept aloof from the procession,</p> +<p class="i4">'Twas the hostess from the ancient</p> +<p class="i4">Tavern of the "Golden Button;"</p> +<p class="i4">So demanded ancient custom.</p> +<p class="i4">There--so learn we from the legend--</p> +<p class="i4">Stood once in those heathen ages</p> +<p class="i4">An old tavern; Fridolinus,</p> +<p class="i4">When he first upon the island</p> +<p class="i4">Set his foot, had there sought shelter;</p> +<p class="i4">But the landlord, a rude heathen,</p> +<p class="i4">Spoke unto the holy man thus:</p> +<p class="i4">"All you priests are good for nothing,</p> +<p class="i4">But to vilify our old gods;</p> +<p class="i4">And you seldom carry even</p> +<p class="i4">One red farthing in your pocket.</p> +<p class="i4">So begone from off my threshold!"</p> +<p class="i4">Now the purse of Fridolinus</p> +<p class="i4">Had indeed but little in it,</p> +<p class="i4">And he had to take his night's rest</p> +<p class="i4">Underneath the shady lindens</p> +<p class="i4">In the meadow. But the angels</p> +<p class="i4">Cared well for him, and he found out,</p> +<p class="i4">On awaking, that his purse was</p> +<p class="i4">Filled with golden Roman pieces.</p> +<p class="i4">Then again the Saint did visit</p> +<p class="i4">The inhospitable tavern,</p> +<p class="i4">Took a meal, and paid in shining</p> +<p class="i4">Money what the host demanded;</p> +<p class="i4">And to shame him left moreover</p> +<p class="i4">Seven gold coins as a present.</p> +<p class="i4">Thus for an eternal warning</p> +<p class="i4">To all landlords void of pity,</p> +<p class="i4">Although ages had elapsed since,</p> +<p class="i4">No one from the "Golden Button"</p> +<p class="i4">Could join in the Saint's procession.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">As the flowers in the mown field</p> +<p class="i4">Gaily bloom 'mid dried up stubble,</p> +<p class="i4">So close by the elder matrons</p> +<p class="i4">Walked the lovely group of maidens,</p> +<p class="i4">Clad in snow-white festive garments.</p> +<p class="i4">Many old men, as they saw them</p> +<p class="i4">Passing by in youthful beauty,</p> +<p class="i4">Thought: "Upon our guard we must be,</p> +<p class="i4">For these maidens are as dangerous</p> +<p class="i4">As a Swedish regiment."</p> +<p class="i4">In the front they bore a statue</p> +<p class="i4">Of Our Lady, dress'd most richly,</p> +<p class="i4">In a purple velvet garment,</p> +<p class="i4">Which they had presented to her,</p> +<p class="i4">As a grateful holy offering,</p> +<p class="i4">When the weary war was ended.</p> +<p class="i4">In that lovely file the fourth one</p> +<p class="i4">Was a slender, light-haired maiden;</p> +<p class="i4">On her curls, a wreath of violets,</p> +<p class="i4">Over which the white veil floated,</p> +<p class="i4">And it covered half her features,</p> +<p class="i4">Like the hoar-frost in the Spring-time</p> +<p class="i4">Glistening on the early rosebud.</p> +<p class="i4">With her eyes cast down she passed by</p> +<p class="i4">Where young Werner now was standing.</p> +<p class="i4">He beheld her. Had the sun then</p> +<p class="i4">Blinded suddenly his eyesight,</p> +<p class="i4">Or the fair young maiden's beauty?<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Although others still came past him,</p> +<p class="i4">Rooted to the spot he stood there,</p> +<p class="i4">Looking only at the fourth one,</p> +<p class="i4">Gazed, and gazed; when the procession</p> +<p class="i4">Turned the corner of a side street</p> +<p class="i4">Still he gazed, as if the fourth one</p> +<p class="i4">In the file he must discover.</p> +<p class="i4">"He is caught!" so goes the saying</p> +<p class="i4">In that country, when one's soul is</p> +<p class="i4">By the wand of love enchanted;</p> +<p class="i4">Love can never be our captive,</p> +<p class="i4">We are wholly conquered by him.</p> +<p class="i4">So beware, my young friend Werner!</p> +<p class="i4">Joy and sorrow hides the saying:</p> +<p class="i4">"He is caught!" I need not say more.<p> +</div></div> +<br> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_pt4" href="#div1Ref_pt4">FOURTH PART.</a></h2> +<br> + +<h3>YOUNG WERNER'S ADVENTURES ON THE RHINE.</h3> +<br> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Mirth now reigned within the city.</p> +<p class="i4">Those who early had united</p> +<p class="i4">In the honoured Saint's procession,</p> +<p class="i4">Now sat, equally united,</p> +<p class="i4">Drinking the good wine before them,</p> +<p class="i4">Or the golden foaming beer.</p> +<p class="i4">Corks were popping, glasses ringing;</p> +<p class="i4">Many huge and mighty goblets</p> +<p class="i4">By the guests were emptied quickly,</p> +<p class="i4">In St Fridolinus' honour.</p> +<p class="i4">Simpering with delight, the landlord</p> +<p class="i4">Counted all the empty barrels,</p> +<p class="i4">And, with a devout expression,</p> +<p class="i4">Chalked them all upon the blackboard.</p> +<p class="i4">From the inn outside the gate, which</p> +<p class="i4">By the peasants was frequented,</p> +<p class="i4">Came gay music; for, with legs crossed,</p> +<p class="i4">There sat, playing on his fiddle,</p> +<p class="i4">Schwefelhans, the violinist;</p> +<p class="i4">And in wild and boisterous dances</p> +<p class="i4">Were the Hauenstein young peasants</p> +<p class="i4">Twirling round their buxom partners.</p> +<p class="i4">Groaning was the floor, and shaking</p> +<p class="i4">'Neath their feet and heavy stamping,</p> +<p class="i4">From the walls the plaster falling,</p> +<p class="i4">So uproarious was their shouting.</p> +<p class="i4">From afar, with turned-up noses,</p> +<p class="i4">Many dandies looked on sneering;</p> +<p class="i4">Yet, within themselves were thinking:</p> +<p class="i4">"Better, after all, than nothing."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">The sedate and older people</p> +<p class="i4">Sat together in the tap-room.</p> +<p class="i4">As their ancestors delighted</p> +<p class="i4">To get drunk in Woden's honour,</p> +<p class="i4">So, in true historic spirit.</p> +<p class="i4">They for Fridolin got tipsy.</p> +<p class="i4">Many troubled faithful consorts</p> +<p class="i4">Pulled their husbands by the coat-tail,</p> +<p class="i4">When the second and the third piece</p> +<p class="i4">Of hard money here was squandered;</p> +<p class="i4">But the husband said quite coolly:</p> +<p class="i4">"Dearest wife, control thy humour,</p> +<p class="i4">For to-day all must be spent here!"</p> +<p class="i4">And he left not till the watchman</p> +<p class="i4">With the halberd came and ordered</p> +<p class="i4">That 'twas time to close the tavern.</p> +<p class="i4">With uncertain steps, ill-humoured,</p> +<p class="i4">To his mountain-home he totters:</p> +<p class="i4">And the silent night is witness</p> +<p class="i4">Of some sudden headlong tumbles.</p> +<p class="i4">But she covers them with darkness--</p> +<p class="i4">Kindly--as she does the beating</p> +<p class="i4">Which, as finish to the feasting,</p> +<p class="i4">He bestows on his poor consort.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Lonely, far-off from the bustle,</p> +<p class="i4">Walked young Werner toward the Rhine-strand,</p> +<p class="i4">Without thinking where he wandered.</p> +<p class="i4">Still before his eyes there hovered</p> +<p class="i4">Those sweet features of the maiden</p> +<p class="i4">Which he had beheld that morning,</p> +<p class="i4">But now seemed a dream's fair vision.</p> +<p class="i4">Burning was his brow; his eyes now</p> +<p class="i4">Restlessly strayed up to heaven,</p> +<p class="i4">Then he cast them meekly downward,</p> +<p class="i4">As if asking where to find her;</p> +<p class="i4">And he did not mind the north wind,</p> +<p class="i4">Which his locks dishevelled sadly.</p> +<p class="i4">Through his heart hot glowing thoughts ran</p> +<p class="i4">Wildly chasing one another,</p> +<p class="i4">Like the mist, which in the autumn</p> +<p class="i4">Moves around the tops of mountains</p> +<p class="i4">In most oddly-changing shapes;</p> +<p class="i4">And it rang and surged within him,</p> +<p class="i4">Like the first germ of a poem</p> +<p class="i4">Growing in the mind's recesses.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Also, thus, in bygone ages,</p> +<p class="i4">By the Arno strolled another</p> +<p class="i4">Child of man, plunged in deep musing;</p> +<p class="i4">And he also blew the trumpet,</p> +<p class="i4">Which, like that of the last judgment,</p> +<p class="i4">Rang aloud, in piercing notes, through</p> +<p class="i4">His benighted rotten age.</p> +<p class="i4">But when he, upon that feast-day,</p> +<p class="i4">First beheld the wondrous maiden</p> +<p class="i4">Who his leading star through life was,</p> +<p class="i4">And to Paradise did lead him;</p> +<p class="i4">He then wandered by the river,</p> +<p class="i4">Under shady oaks and myrtles;</p> +<p class="i4">And, for all the joyful feelings</p> +<p class="i4">Which within his heart were ringing,</p> +<p class="i4">He could only find the utterance:</p> +<p class="i4">"Beatricè! Beatricè!"</p> +<p class="i4">And thus, after many thousand</p> +<p class="i4">And still thousand years have rolled by,</p> +<p class="i4">Others, who with love are stricken,</p> +<p class="i4">Dreamily will walk the same way.</p> +<p class="i4">And whenever the last scion</p> +<p class="i4">Of the Germans on the Rhine-shore</p> +<p class="i4">Has been gathered to his fathers,</p> +<p class="i4">Then will others walk and muse there,</p> +<p class="i4">And in gentle foreign language</p> +<p class="i4">Murmur the sweet words: "I love thee!"</p> +<p class="i4">Do you know them? They have noses</p> +<p class="i4">Somewhat flattened out and ugly;</p> +<p class="i4">By the Aral and the Irtish,</p> +<p class="i4">Now their ancestors drink whisky,</p> +<p class="i4">But to them belongs the future.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Youthful love, thou pearl so precious,</p> +<p class="i4">To the wounded heart a balsam,</p> +<p class="i4">To life's tossing ship an anchor,</p> +<p class="i4">Oasis in sandy deserts;</p> +<p class="i4">Never would I venture singing</p> +<p class="i4">Any new song to thy honour.</p> +<p class="i4">I'm one of the Epigoni;</p> +<p class="i4">And great hosts of valiant people</p> +<p class="i4">Lived before King Agamemnon.</p> +<p class="i4">I know also wise King Solomon,</p> +<p class="i4">And the petty German poets.</p> +<p class="i4">Bashful only, and most grateful,</p> +<p class="i4">I recall thy gentle magic.</p> +<p class="i4">As a golden light it shineth</p> +<p class="i4">Through the mists of youth, and clearly</p> +<p class="i4">To our view unveils life's outlines;</p> +<p class="i4">Shows us where to plant our footsteps,</p> +<p class="i4">And gives courage to the wanderer.</p> +<p class="i4">Lofty hopes and timid longing,</p> +<p class="i4">Dauntless thoughts and stubborn courage,</p> +<p class="i4">All these do we owe to Love;</p> +<p class="i4">And the cheerful heart that helps us,</p> +<p class="i4">Like a mountain-staff, to spring o'er</p> +<p class="i4">Rocks which lie upon our pathway.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Happy, therefore, is the heart which</p> +<p class="i4">Love triumphantly has entered!</p> +<p class="i4">But young Werner seemed unconscious</p> +<p class="i4">Why he thus to-day was strolling</p> +<p class="i4">Idly here along the river.</p> +<p class="i4">Dreamily he walked close by it,</p> +<p class="i4">Heedless of the waves which often</p> +<p class="i4">Gave his boots a thorough wetting.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">From the river's depths gazed at him</p> +<p class="i4">Then the Rhine, who just the battle</p> +<p class="i4">Of two aged crabs was watching,</p> +<p class="i4">And with noisy, ringing laughter,</p> +<p class="i4">Nodded praises, when in rage they</p> +<p class="i4">Crossed their horny claws together.</p> +<p class="i4">Yes, the Rhine--he is a handsome</p> +<p class="i4">Youthful man, and not alone a</p> +<p class="i4">Geographical conception--</p> +<p class="i4">For young Werner he felt pity.</p> +<p class="i4">Rustling rose he from the water,</p> +<p class="i4">In his locks a wreath of rushes,</p> +<p class="i4">And a reed-staff in his right hand.</p> +<p class="i4">Werner, like all Sunday children,</p> +<p class="i4">Saw much more than other mortals;</p> +<p class="i4">So he quickly recognised him,</p> +<p class="i4">And made him a low obeisance.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Smiling then to him the Rhine said:</p> +<p class="i4">"Have no fear, my dear young dreamer,</p> +<p class="i4">For I know where thy shoe pinches.</p> +<p class="i4">Ye are strange and odd, ye mortals;</p> +<p class="i4">Ye believe ye bear a secret</p> +<p class="i4">Through the world in lonely musing,</p> +<p class="i4">And each chafer understands it;</p> +<p class="i4">E'en the gnats and the mosquitoes</p> +<p class="i4">See it on your heated foreheads,</p> +<p class="i4">See it in your tearful glances,</p> +<p class="i4">That Love holds you in his meshes.</p> +<p class="i4">Have no fear, I know what love is;</p> +<p class="i4">I have heard upon my journeys</p> +<p class="i4">Many false and many true vows</p> +<p class="i4">Whispered in Romansh and German,</p> +<p class="i4">Also in the Low Dutch language</p> +<p class="i4">(In the last oft most insipid).</p> +<p class="i4">Nightly likewise have I listened</p> +<p class="i4">Near the shores to much flirtation</p> +<p class="i4">And much kissing, yet kept silent.</p> +<p class="i4">Many a poor devil also,</p> +<p class="i4">In whose heart deep grief was gnawing,</p> +<p class="i4">In my waves found peace and comfort.</p> +<p class="i4">When the water-nymphs had gently</p> +<p class="i4">Lulled him there to sleep, I bore him</p> +<p class="i4">Off with care to shores far distant.</p> +<p class="i4">Under willows, under rushes,</p> +<p class="i4">Far from tongues of deadly malice,</p> +<p class="i4">Rest is sweet to false Love's victims.</p> +<p class="i4">Many thus have I so buried;</p> +<p class="i4">I have also harboured many</p> +<p class="i4">On the river's deep cool bottom</p> +<p class="i4">In my crystal water-palace;</p> +<p class="i4">Lodged them well so that they never</p> +<p class="i4">Longed for man, nor for returning.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Have no fear, I know what love is.</p> +<p class="i4">I myself feel something tightening</p> +<p class="i4">Round my heart, when I the Schwarzwald's</p> +<p class="i4">Mountains greet, and jump rejoicing</p> +<p class="i4">O'er Schaffhausen's precipices,</p> +<p class="i4">Force my way with courage, rushing</p> +<p class="i4">Through the straits of Laufenburg.</p> +<p class="i4">For I know that soon my lovely</p> +<p class="i4">Schwarzwald child, the youthful <a name="div1Ref_pg71" href="#div1_pg71"> +Wiese</a>,</p> +<p class="i4">Comes to meet me, bashful, timid;</p> +<p class="i4">And she prattles, in the rough speech</p> +<p class="i4">Of the Almains, of the Feldberg,</p> +<p class="i4">Of the ghosts beheld at midnight,</p> +<p class="i4">Of sweet mountain flowers, and huge</p> +<p class="i4">Caps and thirsty throats at Schopfheim.</p> +<p class="i4">Yes, I love her, I have never</p> +<p class="i4">Gazed enough at her blue eyes yet.</p> +<p class="i4">Yes, I love her, I have never</p> +<p class="i4">Kissed enough her rosy cheeks yet.</p> +<p class="i4">Oft I rush, like thee, a dreamer,</p> +<p class="i4">Wildly past old sober Basel,</p> +<p class="i4">Get quite tired of the tedious</p> +<p class="i4">Old town-councillors, and ruin</p> +<p class="i4">Now and then a wall in passing.</p> +<p class="i4">And they think, it was in anger,</p> +<p class="i4">What was only done in frolic.</p> +<p class="i4">Yes, I love her. Many other</p> +<p class="i4">Charming women much pursue me;</p> +<p class="i4">None, however,--e'en the stately,</p> +<p class="i4">Richly vine-clad, blue-eyed Mosel--</p> +<p class="i4">Ever from my heart can banish</p> +<p class="i4">Thee, the Feldberg's lovely daughter.</p> +<p class="i4">When I through the sands of Holland</p> +<p class="i4">Weary drag my sluggish waters,</p> +<p class="i4">And I hear the wind-mills clapper,</p> +<p class="i4">Tender longings oft steal o'er me</p> +<p class="i4">For my early lovely sweetheart.</p> +<p class="i4">Then with deep dull sound my waves roll</p> +<p class="i4">Onward through the tedious meadows,</p> +<p class="i4">Roll out far into the North Sea,</p> +<p class="i4">But not one there understands me.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Have no fear; I know what love is.</p> +<p class="i4">Ye I know, ye German dreamers</p> +<p class="i4">Who on my fair shores are dwelling.</p> +<p class="i4">I, indeed, am your true likeness,</p> +<p class="i4">Am the history of your nation;</p> +<p class="i4">Storm and passion, bitter ending,</p> +<p class="i4">All are pictured in my course.</p> +<p class="i4">Most romantic is my birthplace,</p> +<p class="i4">And weird Alpine spirits watched well</p> +<p class="i4">By my glittering icy cradle,</p> +<p class="i4">And conducted me to daylight.</p> +<p class="i4">Strong and wild was I in childhood;</p> +<p class="i4">Never can the rocks be counted,</p> +<p class="i4">Which I roaring dashed to pieces,</p> +<p class="i4">And hurled up like balls at tennis.</p> +<p class="i4">Fresh and gay I then float onward,</p> +<p class="i4">Through the Swabian sea, and carry,</p> +<p class="i4">Unimpaired, my youthful powers</p> +<p class="i4">Farther to the German country.</p> +<p class="i4">And once more come up before me</p> +<p class="i4">All the fragrant recollections</p> +<p class="i4">Of romance; my youthful dreaming</p> +<p class="i4">Sweetly then returns transfigured:</p> +<p class="i4">Foam and surging, strong-walled cities,</p> +<p class="i4">Rocks and castles, quiet cloisters,</p> +<p class="i4">Smiling vineyards on the hillside;</p> +<p class="i4">From the tower calls the watchman,</p> +<p class="i4">And the pennon gaily flutters,</p> +<p class="i4">And from yonder cliff is ringing</p> +<p class="i4">Wondrously the Lurley's song.</p> +<p class="i4">But, alas! the good time passes;</p> +<p class="i4">Nought but grief is then my portion;</p> +<p class="i4">I devote myself to drinking,</p> +<p class="i4">Pray at Cöln in the Cathedral,</p> +<p class="i4">And become a beast of burden.</p> +<p class="i4">Shabby tradesmen must I serve then,</p> +<p class="i4">On my ill-used back must carry</p> +<p class="i4">All the Dutchman's clumsy tow-boats.</p> +<p class="i4">In the sand, to me so hateful,</p> +<p class="i4">Wearily my way I drag on,</p> +<p class="i4">And I've long been dead already,</p> +<p class="i4">Ere my grave, the sea, receives me.</p> +<p class="i4">So beware of such stagnation!<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Yes, I can much more relate thee;</p> +<p class="i4">I to-day am in good humour,</p> +<p class="i4">And I love all jovial fellows,</p> +<p class="i4">Who like thee and like myself face,</p> +<p class="i4">Gaily with light hearts, the Future.</p> +<p class="i4">But I'll end this long discourse now,</p> +<p class="i4">And will give thee my best counsel.</p> +<p class="i4">I know well that thou art love-struck,</p> +<p class="i4">Know, thou lovest Margaretta,</p> +<p class="i4">The old Baron's lovely daughter,</p> +<p class="i4">Whose old castle standing yonder</p> +<p class="i4">Is in my green waves reflected.</p> +<p class="i4">Oft I see with joy the maiden</p> +<p class="i4">Standing there upon the terrace,</p> +<p class="i4">And I'll gladly take thee near her.</p> +<p class="i4">There's the boat and there's the rudder;</p> +<p class="i4">All the rest may well be trusted</p> +<p class="i4">To thy own instinctive wisdom."</p> +<p class="i4">Saying this, he shook his locks, and</p> +<p class="i4">Dived beneath the water's surface;</p> +<p class="i4">And the foaming surging waves then</p> +<p class="i4">Closed the whirlpool where he vanished.</p> +<p class="i4">And afar rang out his laughter,</p> +<p class="i4">For, the battle of the crab had</p> +<p class="i4">Ended now, one lay there bleeding,</p> +<p class="i4">Of the tail bereft the other.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Werner did as he was counselled.</p> +<p class="i4">An old tower was there standing</p> +<p class="i4">By the shore, half in the river;</p> +<p class="i4">And where through a secret wicket</p> +<p class="i4">To the strand came down the fisher,</p> +<p class="i4">Was a quiet hidden inlet,</p> +<p class="i4">Where lay boat and rudder ready.</p> +<p class="i4">As the boatman kept the feast-day,</p> +<p class="i4">So without permission Werner</p> +<p class="i4">Took possession of the boat there.</p> +<p class="i4">In the meantime evening crept on:</p> +<p class="i4">Here and there rang from the mountains</p> +<p class="i4">Clear and sharp, a shouting from some</p> +<p class="i4">Tipsy peasant going homeward.</p> +<p class="i4">O'er those distant pine-tree forests</p> +<p class="i4">Streamed the moonlight through the valley;</p> +<p class="i4">Bashfully some stars already</p> +<p class="i4">From the clear blue sky were peeping.</p> +<p class="i4">From the shore shoved off young Werner.</p> +<p class="i4">As a horse, when in his stable</p> +<p class="i4">Long imprisoned, gaily prances,</p> +<p class="i4">Neighs with joy, when he can carry</p> +<p class="i4">Through the fields again his master:</p> +<p class="i4">So shot boldly swiftly downward,</p> +<p class="i4">On the water gaily bounding,</p> +<p class="i4">The light boat, and speeding onward</p> +<p class="i4">Passed the walls of the old city.</p> +<p class="i4">Soon it gained the ancient Rhine bridge,</p> +<p class="i4">Which with timber-covered arches</p> +<p class="i4">Boldly spans from shore to shore.</p> +<p class="i4">And courageously young Werner</p> +<p class="i4">Steered right through below the third pier,</p> +<p class="i4">Laughing, when, as if to vex him,</p> +<p class="i4">Three times up and three times downward</p> +<p class="i4">Danced his boat, seized by the whirlpool</p> +<p class="i4">Soon he now beheld the castle</p> +<p class="i4">With its gable-roofs and turrets,</p> +<p class="i4">Shining through the lofty chestnuts,</p> +<p class="i4">All illumined by the moonlight.</p> +<p class="i4">Yonder rose up from the river</p> +<p class="i4">By the shore a bank of gravel,</p> +<p class="i4">Bare and barren; it was often</p> +<p class="i4">Flooded over by the river.</p> +<p class="i4">Out of fun the country people</p> +<p class="i4">Called it <a name="div1Ref_pg76" href="#div1_pg76">field of +Fridolinus</a>.</p> +<p class="i4">Thither now the frail boat drifted;</p> +<p class="i4">There it halted on the shelving</p> +<p class="i4">Pebbly ground. Out jumped young Werner,</p> +<p class="i4">And he looked with eager glances</p> +<p class="i4">Whether he could not descry her.</p> +<p class="i4">He could only see a distant</p> +<p class="i4">Twinkling light up in the turret;</p> +<p class="i4">But this wholly satisfied him.</p> +<p class="i4">Often doth a distant vision</p> +<p class="i4">More delight bestow upon us</p> +<p class="i4">Than the fulness of possession;</p> +<p class="i4">Hence our Song dwells on his pleasure,</p> +<p class="i4">As he stands there on the sand-bank</p> +<p class="i4">At that light in rapture gazing.</p> +<p class="i4">Spread before his dreamy eyes lay</p> +<p class="i4">Rosy visions of the future;</p> +<p class="i4">Neither sun nor stars shone in them,</p> +<p class="i4">Nothing but that light's faint glimmer.</p> +<p class="i4">From the turret, where it flickered,</p> +<p class="i4">Love flew forth, on rapid pinions,</p> +<p class="i4">Noiselessly to him descended,</p> +<p class="i4">And unseen stood there beside him</p> +<p class="i4">On the field of Fridolinus;</p> +<p class="i4">And he handed him the trumpet</p> +<p class="i4">Which from Werner's neck was hanging,</p> +<p class="i4">Saying: Blow your trumpet, blow it!<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">And he blew until his blowing</p> +<p class="i4">Filled with melody the night air.</p> +<p class="i4">In the depths the Rhine was listening,</p> +<p class="i4">Salmon, trout, and pike were listening,</p> +<p class="i4">Water-nymphs were listening also,</p> +<p class="i4">And the wind the ringing tones bore</p> +<p class="i4">To the castle tenderly.<p> +</div></div> +<br> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_pt5" href="#div1Ref_pt5">FIFTH PART.</a></h2> +<div class="poem"> +<h3>THE BARON AND HIS DAUGHTER.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Now, my Muse, thy powers summon!</p> +<p class="i4">For thy path leads to the Baron</p> +<p class="i4">And the lovely Margaretta.</p> +<p class="i4">Now be circumspect and courteous;</p> +<p class="i4">For, an aged trooper-colonel</p> +<p class="i4">Might with thee and others like thee</p> +<p class="i4">Not be very ceremonious;</p> +<p class="i4">But might throw thee down the staircase,</p> +<p class="i4">Which is steep and very slippery,</p> +<p class="i4">And might prove injurious to thee.</p> +<p class="i4">Now, my Muse, mount upward to the</p> +<p class="i4">Castle gate, behold there sculptured</p> +<p class="i4">The three balls upon the scutcheon.</p> +<p class="i4">As in the armorial bearings</p> +<p class="i4">Of the Medici in Florence--</p> +<p class="i4">Signs of ancient, noble lineage;</p> +<p class="i4">Now ascend the steps of sandstone,</p> +<p class="i4">Loudly knock at the great hall door,</p> +<p class="i4">Then step in and give report of</p> +<p class="i4">What thou there hast slyly noticed.</p> +<p class="i4">In the spacious, lofty knights' hall,</p> +<p class="i4">With its walls of panelled oak-wood.</p> +<p class="i4">And with rows of old ancestral</p> +<p class="i4">Dusty portraits decorated,</p> +<p class="i4">There the Baron took his comfort,</p> +<p class="i4">Seated in his easy arm-chair</p> +<p class="i4">By the cheerful blazing fire.</p> +<p class="i4">His mustache was gray already;</p> +<p class="i4">On his forehead, which a Swedish</p> +<p class="i4">Troopers sword had deeply scarred once,</p> +<p class="i4">Many wrinkles had been furrowed</p> +<p class="i4">Also by the hand of Time.</p> +<p class="i4">And a most unpleasant guest had</p> +<p class="i4">Taken quarters uninvited</p> +<p class="i4">In the left foot of the Baron.</p> +<p class="i4">Gout 'tis called in vulgar parlance,</p> +<p class="i4">But if any learnèd person</p> +<p class="i4">Rather podagra should call it,</p> +<p class="i4">I shall offer no objection;</p> +<p class="i4">Not the less will be its torments.</p> +<p class="i4">Just this day the pangs were milder,</p> +<p class="i4">Only now and then increasing,</p> +<p class="i4">When the Baron, smiling, spoke thus:<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Zounds! 'tis evident that in the</p> +<p class="i4">Long and dreadful Thirty Years' war.</p> +<p class="i4">E'en this plaguy gout adopted</p> +<p class="i4">Something of the art of tactics.</p> +<p class="i4">The attack begins in order;</p> +<p class="i4">First the skirmishers go forward,</p> +<p class="i4">Then the flying columns follow.</p> +<p class="i4">Oh, I wish the devil had them,</p> +<p class="i4">This whole reconnoitring party!</p> +<p class="i4">But not even this sufficeth.</p> +<p class="i4">Just as if I had a fortress</p> +<p class="i4">In my heart--like guns 'tis roaring.</p> +<p class="i4">Then it throbs like storming parties,</p> +<p class="i4">Piif! paif! I capitulate."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">But just then there was a truce held.</p> +<p class="i4">So the Baron took his comfort</p> +<p class="i4">As he filled out of the stone jug</p> +<p class="i4">His large goblet brimming over.</p> +<p class="i4">Up by <a name="div1Ref_pg80a" href="#div1_pg80a">Hallau</a> +where the last spurs</p> +<p class="i4">Of the <a name="div1Ref_pg80b" href="#div1_pg80b"> +Hohe-Randen's</a> ridges</p> +<p class="i4">To the Rhine are sloping downward,</p> +<p class="i4">Where the vintner, while at labour,</p> +<p class="i4">Hears the ceaseless mighty roaring</p> +<p class="i4">Of the Rhine-fall by Schaffhausen:</p> +<p class="i4">Had the sun with fervent glowing</p> +<p class="i4">Ripened well the spicy red wine</p> +<p class="i4">Which the Baron had selected</p> +<p class="i4">As his usual evening beverage.</p> +<p class="i4">And, to heighten his enjoyment,</p> +<p class="i4">He puffed out clouds of tobacco.</p> +<p class="i4">In his red and simple clay-pipe</p> +<p class="i4">Burned the weed from foreign countries,</p> +<p class="i4">Which he smoked through a long pipe-stem</p> +<p class="i4">Made of fragrant cherry-wood.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">At the Baron's feet was lying</p> +<p class="i4">Gracefully the worthy tom-cat,</p> +<p class="i4">Hiddigeigei, with the coal-black</p> +<p class="i4">Velvet fur and mighty tail.</p> +<p class="i4">'Twas an heirloom from his long-lost,</p> +<p class="i4">Much-beloved, and stately consort,</p> +<p class="i4">Leonore Monfort du Plessys.</p> +<p class="i4">Hiddigeigei's native country</p> +<p class="i4">Was Hungaria, and his mother,</p> +<p class="i4">Who was of the race Angora,</p> +<p class="i4">Bore him to a Puszta tom-cat.</p> +<p class="i4">In his early youth to Paris</p> +<p class="i4">He was sent as a fond token</p> +<p class="i4">Of the love of an Hungarian,</p> +<p class="i4">Who, though far in Debreczin, still</p> +<p class="i4">With due reverence had remembered</p> +<p class="i4">The blue eyes of Leonora,</p> +<p class="i4">And the rats in her old palace.</p> +<p class="i4">With the stately Leonora</p> +<p class="i4">To the Rhine came Hiddigeigei.</p> +<p class="i4">A true house-pet, somewhat lonesome</p> +<p class="i4">Did he while away his life there;</p> +<p class="i4">For, he hated to consort with</p> +<p class="i4">Any of the German cat-tribe.</p> +<p class="i4">"They may have," thus he was thinking</p> +<p class="i4">In his consequential cat-pride,</p> +<p class="i4">"Right good hearts, and may possess too</p> +<p class="i4">At the bottom some good feeling,</p> +<p class="i4">But 'tis polish that is wanting;</p> +<p class="i4">A fine culture and high breeding,</p> +<p class="i4">I miss sorely in these vulgar</p> +<p class="i4">Natives of this forest-city.</p> +<p class="i4">And a cat who won his knight spurs</p> +<p class="i4">In fair Paris, and who often</p> +<p class="i4">In the quarter of Montfaucon</p> +<p class="i4">Has enjoyed a racy rat-hunt,</p> +<p class="i4">Misses in this little town here</p> +<p class="i4">All that is to him congenial,</p> +<p class="i4">Any intercourse with equals."</p> +<p class="i4">Isolated, therefore, but still</p> +<p class="i4">Ever dignified and solemn</p> +<p class="i4">Lived he in this lonely castle.</p> +<p class="i4">Graceful through the halls he glided,</p> +<p class="i4">Most melodious was his purring;</p> +<p class="i4">And in fits of passion even,</p> +<p class="i4">When he curved his back in anger,</p> +<p class="i4">And his hair stood bristling backward,</p> +<p class="i4">Never did he fail to mingle</p> +<p class="i4">Dignity with graceful bearing.</p> +<p class="i4">But when over roof and gable</p> +<p class="i4">Up he softly clambered, starting</p> +<p class="i4">On a hunting expedition.</p> +<p class="i4">Then mysteriously by moonlight</p> +<p class="i4">His green eyes like emeralds glistened;</p> +<p class="i4">Then, indeed, he looked imposing</p> +<p class="i4">This majestic Hiddigeigei.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Near his cat sat the old Baron.</p> +<p class="i4">In his eyes were often flashes,</p> +<p class="i4">Now like lightning--then more softened</p> +<p class="i4">Like the mellow rays of sunset,</p> +<p class="i4">As he thought of bygone times.</p> +<p class="i4">To old age belongs the solace</p> +<p class="i4">Of recalling days of yore.</p> +<p class="i4">Thus the aged ne'er are lonely.</p> +<p class="i4">The dear shades are floating round them,</p> +<p class="i4">Of the dead, in quaint old garments,</p> +<p class="i4">Gorgeous once, now sadly faded.</p> +<p class="i4">But fond memory blots decay out,</p> +<p class="i4">And the skulls once more with beauty</p> +<p class="i4">Are arrayed in youthful freshness.</p> +<p class="i4">Then they talk of days long vanished,</p> +<p class="i4">And the aged heart is beating,</p> +<p class="i4">And the fist oft clinches tightly.</p> +<p class="i6">As he passes by her turret,</p> +<p class="i4">Once again she smiling greets him;</p> +<p class="i4">Once again resound the trumpets,</p> +<p class="i4">And the fiery charger bears him</p> +<p class="i4">Neighing to the throng of battle.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">So the Baron with good humour</p> +<p class="i4">Of the Past review was holding--</p> +<p class="i4">And, when oft he stretched his hand out,</p> +<p class="i4">Suddenly grasped at his goblet,</p> +<p class="i4">And a deep long draught then swallowed:</p> +<p class="i4">Probably a dear and lovely</p> +<p class="i4">Vision rose up bright before him.</p> +<p class="i4">Oft it seemed as if his memory</p> +<p class="i4">Clung to things which gave less pleasure;</p> +<p class="i4">For sometimes, without a reason,</p> +<p class="i4">Down there came on Hiddigeigei's</p> +<p class="i4">Back a kick with cruel rudeness.</p> +<p class="i4">And the cat thought it more prudent</p> +<p class="i4">Then his resting-place to alter.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Now into the hall stepped lightly</p> +<p class="i4">The old Baron's lovely daughter</p> +<p class="i4">Margaretta,--and her father</p> +<p class="i4">Nodded kindly as she entered.</p> +<p class="i4">Hiddigeigei's suffering face too</p> +<p class="i4">Showed delight as cats express it.</p> +<p class="i4">She had changed her festal white robe</p> +<p class="i4">For a garment of black velvet.</p> +<p class="i4">On her long and golden tresses,</p> +<p class="i4">A black cap sat most coquettish,</p> +<p class="i4">'Neath which her blue eyes were smiling</p> +<p class="i4">With a matron-like expression;</p> +<p class="i4">To the girdle was attached the</p> +<p class="i4">Bunch of keys and leather-pocket,</p> +<p class="i4">German housewife's badge of honour.</p> +<p class="i4">And she kissed the Baron's forehead,</p> +<p class="i4">Saying: "Dear papa, don't blame me,</p> +<p class="i4">If to-day I kept you waiting.</p> +<p class="i4">The old Lady Abbess yonder</p> +<p class="i4">In the convent did detain me,</p> +<p class="i4">Told me many things of import,</p> +<p class="i4">Wisely of old age discoursing,</p> +<p class="i4">And of Time, the great destroyer.</p> +<p class="i4">The Commander too of Beuggen</p> +<p class="i4">Said such sweet things, just as if they</p> +<p class="i4">Came right from the comfit-maker.</p> +<p class="i4">I was glad, when I could leave them.</p> +<p class="i4">For your lordship's further pleasure</p> +<p class="i4">Here I am, all due attention.</p> +<p class="i4">I am ready, from your favourite</p> +<p class="i4"><a name="div1Ref_pg85" href="#div1_pg85">Theuerdank</a> to +read aloud now;</p> +<p class="i4">For, I know, you like the rougher</p> +<p class="i4">Tales of hunting and adventure,</p> +<p class="i4">Better than the mawkish sweetness</p> +<p class="i4">Of our present pastoral poets.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"But, O wherefore, dearest father,</p> +<p class="i4">Are you ever, ever smoking</p> +<p class="i4">This bad poisonous tobacco?</p> +<p class="i4">I am frightened when I see you</p> +<p class="i4">Sitting there in clouds enveloped</p> +<p class="i4">As in times of fog the Eggberg.</p> +<p class="i4">And I'm sorry for the gilded</p> +<p class="i4">Picture-frames hung on the walls there,</p> +<p class="i4">And the pretty snow-white curtains.</p> +<p class="i4">Don't you hear their low complaining,</p> +<p class="i4">How the smoke from your red-clay pipe</p> +<p class="i4">Makes them faded, gray and rusty?</p> +<p class="i4">'Tis most truly a fine country,</p> +<p class="i4">That America which once the</p> +<p class="i4">Spanish admiral discovered.</p> +<p class="i4">I myself take great delight in</p> +<p class="i4">The gay plumage of the parrots,</p> +<p class="i4">And the pink and scarlet corals;</p> +<p class="i4">Dream at times also of lofty</p> +<p class="i4">Graceful palm-groves, lonely log-huts,</p> +<p class="i4">Cocoa-nuts, gigantic flowers,</p> +<p class="i4">And of mischievous wild monkeys.</p> +<p class="i4">I wish almost it were lying</p> +<p class="i4">In the sea still undiscovered;</p> +<p class="i4">All because of this tobacco</p> +<p class="i4">Which has been imported hither.</p> +<p class="i4">I can grant a man forgiveness,</p> +<p class="i4">Who more often than is needed</p> +<p class="i4">Draws his red wine from the barrel,</p> +<p class="i4">And could get, if necessary,</p> +<p class="i4">Reconciled unto his red nose;</p> +<p class="i4">Never to this horrid smoking."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Smiling had the Baron listened,</p> +<p class="i4">Smiling he puffed many smoke-clouds</p> +<p class="i4">From his clay-pipe, and then answered:</p> +<p class="i4">"Dearest child, you women always</p> +<p class="i4">Thoughtlessly do talk of many</p> +<p class="i4">Things beyond your comprehension.</p> +<p class="i4">It is true that soldiers often</p> +<p class="i4">Take up many evil habits,</p> +<p class="i4">Not adapted to the boudoir.</p> +<p class="i4">But my daughter finds with smoking</p> +<p class="i4">Too much fault; for through this habit</p> +<p class="i4">I have won my wife and household.</p> +<p class="i4">And because to-day so many</p> +<p class="i4">Old campaign tales through my head run,</p> +<p class="i4">Do not read to-night. Sit down here;</p> +<p class="i4">I will now relate thee something</p> +<p class="i4">Of this much-abused tobacco,</p> +<p class="i4">And of thy blest angel mother."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Sceptically, Margaretta</p> +<p class="i4">With her large blue eyes looked at him,</p> +<p class="i4">Took her work up to embroider,</p> +<p class="i4">Coloured worsted and her needle,</p> +<p class="i4">Moved her stool then near the Baron's</p> +<p class="i4">Arm-chair, and sat down beside him.</p> +<p class="i4">Charming picture! In the forest,</p> +<p class="i4">Round the knotty oak thus climbeth</p> +<p class="i4">The wild rose in youthful beauty.</p> +<p class="i4">Then the Baron at one swallow</p> +<p class="i4">Drank his wine, and thus related:<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"When the wicked war was raging,</p> +<p class="i4">I once roved with some few German</p> +<p class="i4">Troopers yonder in fair Alsace;</p> +<p class="i4">Hans von Weerth was our good colonel.</p> +<p class="i4">Swedes and French laid siege to Breisach,</p> +<p class="i4">And their camp was all alive with</p> +<p class="i4">Stories of our daring ventures.</p> +<p class="i4">But who e'er can stand 'gainst numbers?</p> +<p class="i4">So one day the hounds attacked us,</p> +<p class="i4">Just as if wild beasts they hunted;</p> +<p class="i4">And at last, when bleeding freely</p> +<p class="i4">From the wounds their fangs inflicted,</p> +<p class="i4">We were forced to lay our arms down.</p> +<p class="i4">Afterwards the French transported</p> +<p class="i4">Us as prisoners to Paris,</p> +<p class="i4">Caged us in Vincennes' strong fortress.</p> +<p class="i4">'Damn them!' said our valiant colonel,</p> +<p class="i4">Hans von Weerth, 'it was much nicer,</p> +<p class="i4">Galloping, with shining sabres</p> +<p class="i4">Hostile lines to charge with fury,</p> +<p class="i4">Than on this hard bench to sit here,</p> +<p class="i4">And to battle with ennui thus.</p> +<p class="i4">For this foe there is no weapon,</p> +<p class="i4">Neither wine nor even dice-box,</p> +<p class="i4">Nothing but tobacco. I once</p> +<p class="i4">Tried it in the country of the</p> +<p class="i4">Dull Mynheers, and here it also</p> +<p class="i4">Will do service; let us smoke then!'</p> +<p class="i6">The commander of the fortress</p> +<p class="i4">Got a keg of best Varinas</p> +<p class="i4">For us from a Dutch retailer,</p> +<p class="i4">Got us also well-burnt clay-pipes.</p> +<p class="i4">In the prisoners' room commenced now</p> +<p class="i4">Such a smoking, such a puffing</p> +<p class="i4">Of dense clouds of strong tobacco</p> +<p class="i4">As no mortal eyes had seen yet</p> +<p class="i4">In the gallant Frenchmen's country.</p> +<p class="i4">Full of wonder gazed our jailors,</p> +<p class="i4">And the news spread to the king's ears,</p> +<p class="i4">And the king himself in person</p> +<p class="i4">Came to see this latest marvel.</p> +<p class="i4">Soon all Paris rang with stories</p> +<p class="i4">Of the wild and boorish Germans,</p> +<p class="i4">And of their, as yet unheard of,</p> +<p class="i4">Truly wondrous feats in smoking.</p> +<p class="i4">Coaches drove up, pages sprang down,</p> +<p class="i4">All came to the narrow guard-room,</p> +<p class="i4">Cavaliers and stately ladies;</p> +<p class="i4">She came also, she the noble</p> +<p class="i4">Leonore Montfort du Plessys.</p> +<p class="i4">Even now I see her slight foot</p> +<p class="i4">Stepping on our rough bare stone-floor,</p> +<p class="i4">Hear her satin train still rustling,</p> +<p class="i4">And my soldier's heart is beating</p> +<p class="i4">As if in the thick of battle.</p> +<p class="i4">Like the smoke from the big cannons</p> +<p class="i4">Came the smoke out of my clay-pipe;</p> +<p class="i4">And 'twas well so. On the same cloud</p> +<p class="i4">Which I puffed there in the presence</p> +<p class="i4">Of the proud one, sat god Cupid,</p> +<p class="i4">Gaily shooting off his arrows,</p> +<p class="i4">And he knew well how to hit right.</p> +<p class="i4">Out of wonder grew deep interest,</p> +<p class="i4">Then the interest fast to love changed,</p> +<p class="i4">And the German bear appeared soon</p> +<p class="i4">Finer far and nobler than the</p> +<p class="i4">Paris lions altogether.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"When, at last, the gates were opened</p> +<p class="i4">Of our dungeon, and the herald</p> +<p class="i4">Brought us tidings of our freedom,</p> +<p class="i4">I was then still more a captive</p> +<p class="i4">Bound in Leonora's fetters;</p> +<p class="i4">And remained thus, and the wedding</p> +<p class="i4">Which soon took us home to Rhine-land</p> +<p class="i4">Only made the rivets stronger.</p> +<p class="i4">When I think of this, I feel that</p> +<p class="i4">Tears on my mustache are rolling.</p> +<p class="i4">For what now to me remaineth</p> +<p class="i4">Of the past so fair, but memory,</p> +<p class="i4">And the black cat, Hiddigeigei,</p> +<p class="i4">And my Leonora's image.</p> +<p class="i4">Thou my child. God give her soul rest!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Speaking thus, he knocked the ashes</p> +<p class="i4">From his pipe, and patted gently</p> +<p class="i4">Hiddigeigei; but his daughter</p> +<p class="i4">Roguishly knelt down before him.</p> +<p class="i4">Saying: "Dearest father, grant me</p> +<p class="i4">Your entire absolution.</p> +<p class="i4">Never shall you hear in future</p> +<p class="i4">From my lips an observation</p> +<p class="i4">On account of this vile smoking."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Graciously the Baron said then:</p> +<p class="i4">"Thou hast also been sarcastic</p> +<p class="i4">At my drinking oft too freely;</p> +<p class="i4">And I have a mind to tell thee</p> +<p class="i4">Still a most instructive story,</p> +<p class="i4">How in Rheinau in the cloister,</p> +<p class="i4">As the guest of the Lord Abbot</p> +<p class="i4">I went through a bout of drinking</p> +<p class="i4">In the famous wine of Hallau.</p> +<p class="i4">But"--the Baron stopped and listened.</p> +<p class="i4">"Zounds!" he said, "what's that I hear there?</p> +<p class="i4">Whence doth come that trumpet-blowing?"</p> +<p class="i4">Werner's music through the March night,</p> +<p class="i4">Plaintive soared up to the castle,</p> +<p class="i4">Begging entrance like a pet-dove,</p> +<p class="i4">Which, returning to its mistress,</p> +<p class="i4">Finds the window closed and fastened,</p> +<p class="i4">And begins to peck and hammer.</p> +<p class="i4">To the terrace went the Baron</p> +<p class="i4">And his daughter; Hiddigeigei</p> +<p class="i4">Followed both with step majestic.</p> +<p class="i4">Through the cat's heart then swept omens</p> +<p class="i4">Of a great, eventful future.</p> +<p class="i4">All around they looked--but vainly.</p> +<p class="i4">For the turret's gloomy shadow</p> +<p class="i4">Covered both the bank and Werner.</p> +<p class="i4">Like the blowing of the moot, then</p> +<p class="i4">Like the clanging charge of horsemen,</p> +<p class="i4">Up it mounted to the terrace,</p> +<p class="i4">Then died out;--a small boat dimly</p> +<p class="i4">They saw moving up the river.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Backward stepped the Baron quickly,</p> +<p class="i4">Pulled the bell and called his servant</p> +<p class="i4">Anton, who came in directly.</p> +<p class="i4">"Gain immediate information</p> +<p class="i4">Who was blowing here the trumpet</p> +<p class="i4">On the Rhine at this late hour.</p> +<p class="i4">If a spirit, sign the cross thrice;</p> +<p class="i4">If a mortal, greet him kindly,</p> +<p class="i4">And command his presence hither,</p> +<p class="i4">For with him I must hold converse."</p> +<p class="i4">Soldier-like, saluting, turned then</p> +<p class="i4">Right about face good old Anton:</p> +<p class="i4">"I'll fulfil your lordship's orders."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Meanwhile, silently descended</p> +<p class="i4">Midnight over vale and city;</p> +<p class="i4">And in Margaretta's slumbers</p> +<p class="i4">Came a dream most sweet and wondrous:</p> +<p class="i4">As she walked to the old minster</p> +<p class="i4">Once again in festal garments,</p> +<p class="i4">Fridolinus came to meet her;</p> +<p class="i4">By his side there walked another,</p> +<p class="i4">But 'twas not the dead man who once</p> +<p class="i4">Followed him to Glarus court-house;</p> +<p class="i4">'Twas a youth, fair, tall, and slender;</p> +<p class="i4">Like a trumpeter he looked, and</p> +<p class="i4">Greeted her with lowly reverence;</p> +<p class="i4">While Saint Fridolin was smiling.<p> +</div></div> +<br> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_pt6" href="#div1Ref_pt6">SIXTH PART.</a></h2> +<br> + +<h3>HOW YOUNG WERNER BECAME THE BARON'S TRUMPETER.</h3> +<br> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Master Anton started early</p> +<p class="i4">The next morning for the city,</p> +<p class="i4">To find out that trumpet blower.</p> +<p class="i4">By St. Fridolin's cathedral</p> +<p class="i4">He turned off into a side-street.</p> +<p class="i4">From the other side there came with</p> +<p class="i4">Rapid steps the boatman Martin,</p> +<p class="i4">And they met just at the corner,</p> +<p class="i4">Bumping up against each other.</p> +<p class="i4">"'Pon my soul," cried out the worthy</p> +<p class="i4">Anton, as he rubbed his forehead;</p> +<p class="i4">"Your thick skull is hard as iron."</p> +<p class="i4">"Yours is not upholstered either</p> +<p class="i4">With soft wool or springy sea-weed,"</p> +<p class="i4">Was the boatman's ready answer.</p> +<p class="i4">"And what business have you running</p> +<p class="i4">Through the city's streets thus early?"</p> +<p class="i4">"I can ask the same," said Anton.</p> +<p class="i4">"I seek someone who last evening</p> +<p class="i4">From the shore my boat unfastened,"</p> +<p class="i4">Answered him the boatman Martin.</p> +<p class="i4">"He may be my man," said Anton.</p> +<p class="i4">"When I came down to the river,</p> +<p class="i4">There I found my boat turned over</p> +<p class="i4">On the shore--the rudder broken,</p> +<p class="i4">And the fastening cut asunder.</p> +<p class="i4">If a thunderstorm would only</p> +<p class="i4">Sweep away these wicked people,</p> +<p class="i4">Who like thieves at night are roving</p> +<p class="i4">On the Rhine in borrowed vessels."</p> +<p class="i4">"And the trumpet blow," said Anton.--</p> +<p class="i4">"But whenever I shall find him,</p> +<p class="i4">To the justice I shall take him.</p> +<p class="i4">He must pay me; even for the</p> +<p class="i4">Black and blue mark which you gave me,</p> +<p class="i4">I shall bring a heavy reckoning.</p> +<p class="i4">It is shameful how this fellow</p> +<p class="i4">Gives me such vexation!" Thus the</p> +<p class="i4">Boatman scolding went on farther.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"And I do not see myself, why</p> +<p class="i4">I should take such extra trouble</p> +<p class="i4">To hunt up this mischief-maker,"</p> +<p class="i4">Said old Anton to himself then.</p> +<p class="i4">"Seems to me it is already</p> +<p class="i4">Just the time when honest people</p> +<p class="i4">For their morning draught are longing."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">To the "Golden Button's" shady</p> +<p class="i4">Tap-room turned the worthy Anton</p> +<p class="i4">Now his steps, and through a side-door</p> +<p class="i4">In he stepped: he deemed it wiser</p> +<p class="i4">Thus to hide before the public</p> +<p class="i4">Such an early morning visit.</p> +<p class="i4">Many worthy folks already</p> +<p class="i4">Had there quietly assembled</p> +<p class="i4">O'er their brimming foaming bumpers.</p> +<p class="i4">Like red roses shone their faces,</p> +<p class="i4">And like radishes their noses.</p> +<p class="i4">"Want a big glass?" asked the waitress</p> +<p class="i4">Our old Anton, who assented:</p> +<p class="i4">"To be sure! hot is the weather,</p> +<p class="i4">And when I woke up, already</p> +<p class="i4">In my throat I felt a dryness."</p> +<p class="i4">So good Anton soon was drinking</p> +<p class="i4">From his large Bohemian bumper,</p> +<p class="i4">Turning over in his mind well,</p> +<p class="i4">How he should despatch his business.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">In the private room was sitting,</p> +<p class="i4">Just then Werner with the landlord,</p> +<p class="i4">Who had served for his guest's breakfast</p> +<p class="i4">A fine slice of red smoked salmon,</p> +<p class="i4">And commenced with the young stranger</p> +<p class="i4">An instructive conversation:</p> +<p class="i4">On the vintage in the Rhine-Pfalz,</p> +<p class="i4">How the price of hops was standing,</p> +<p class="i4">How they fared in time of war there.</p> +<p class="i4">Now and then, to sound the stranger,</p> +<p class="i4">He threw slyly out some questions,</p> +<p class="i4">Whence he came and what his business.</p> +<p class="i4">Still he gained no satisfaction;</p> +<p class="i4">But quite shrewdly thus he reasoned:<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"He's no bookworm, for he seemeth</p> +<p class="i4">Much too martial--nor a soldier</p> +<p class="i4">Either, as he looks too modest;</p> +<p class="i4">He may be a necromancer,</p> +<p class="i4">An adept in all dark witchcraft,</p> +<p class="i4">Alchemy, and other black arts.</p> +<p class="i4">Wait, I'll catch thee;" and he turned their</p> +<p class="i4">Talk to hidden buried treasures,</p> +<p class="i4">And to midnight exorcisms.</p> +<p class="i4">"Yes, my friend, here near the city</p> +<p class="i4">Lies a sandbank in the river.</p> +<p class="i4">At the time of Fridolinus</p> +<p class="i4">Heaps of gold coin there were buried.</p> +<p class="i4">One who knows, a clever fellow,</p> +<p class="i4">Could there dig and make his fortune."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"I already saw the sandbank,"</p> +<p class="i4">Said young Werner, "when I rowed there</p> +<p class="i4">On the Rhine last night by moonlight."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"What, you know it then already?"</p> +<p class="i4">Said the landlord much astonished.</p> +<p class="i4">"Have I caught thee?" he thought, keenly</p> +<p class="i4">Looking at young Werner's pockets,</p> +<p class="i4">If he could not hear a jingling</p> +<p class="i4">Of great lots of golden money.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Have I caught thee?" also gladly</p> +<p class="i4">To himself said worthy Anton.</p> +<p class="i4">"It is, after all, the right thing</p> +<p class="i4">Thus to take an early potion."</p> +<p class="i4">From the spot where he was seated</p> +<p class="i4">He had heard their conversation;</p> +<p class="i4">And besides upon the table.</p> +<p class="i4">By the stranger's sword and cocked hat,</p> +<p class="i4">Also lay the sought-for trumpet.</p> +<p class="i4">Drawing near, then, he said gravely:<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"With your leave, if you're no spirit--</p> +<p class="i4">And that seems to me unlikely.</p> +<p class="i4">As you've just enjoyed your breakfast--</p> +<p class="i4">Then the Baron sends you greeting,</p> +<p class="i4">And invites you to his castle.</p> +<p class="i4">I will take you there with pleasure."</p> +<p class="i4">Thus he spoke. Young Werner listened,</p> +<p class="i4">Half astonished, and went with him.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Smirking, thought the cunning landlord:</p> +<p class="i4">"You will get it, my young master;</p> +<p class="i4">You believed you had full freedom</p> +<p class="i4">Thus to rove about the river,</p> +<p class="i4">Spying out long-buried treasures.</p> +<p class="i4">But the Baron found you out soon,</p> +<p class="i4">And will stop your bold proceedings.</p> +<p class="i4">Now you'll get it, when he treats you,</p> +<p class="i4">From his amply-furnished stores, to</p> +<p class="i4">Some of his well-seasoned curses.</p> +<p class="i4">Like a top your head will spin then,</p> +<p class="i4">And your ears buzz like a beehive.</p> +<p class="i4">But this will concern you solely.</p> +<p class="i4">If he keep you in a dungeon</p> +<p class="i4">Of your horse I'll take possession;</p> +<p class="i4">It will well score off your reckoning."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Once more in the hall together</p> +<p class="i4">Were the Baron and his daughter,</p> +<p class="i4">And again he smoked his pipe there,</p> +<p class="i4">When the ponderous folding-doors were</p> +<p class="i4">Opened, and, with modest reverence,</p> +<p class="i4">Werner entered. "If you only,"</p> +<p class="i4">Said the faithful Anton, "only</p> +<p class="i4">Knew, your gracious lordship, what a</p> +<p class="i4">Heavy task it was to find him!"</p> +<p class="i4">Keenly did the Baron's eyes rest</p> +<p class="i4">On young Werner, passing muster;</p> +<p class="i4">By her father, lightly leaning</p> +<p class="i4">On his arm-chair, Margaretta</p> +<p class="i4">Bashfully looked at the stranger,</p> +<p class="i4">And with both the first impression</p> +<p class="i4">Of each other was most happy.</p> +<p class="i4">"It is you, then," said the Baron,</p> +<p class="i4">"Who last night have startled us here</p> +<p class="i4">With your trumpet-blowing, therefore</p> +<p class="i4">I should like to speak to you now."</p> +<p class="i4">"This commences well," thought Werner,</p> +<p class="i4">And, embarrassed, cast his eyes down</p> +<p class="i4">To the ground. But the old Baron,</p> +<p class="i4">Kindly smiling, thus continued:</p> +<p class="i4">"You believe, perhaps, I shall now</p> +<p class="i4">Call you to account for having</p> +<p class="i4">Made loud music near the castle?</p> +<p class="i4">You are wrong, 'tis not my business;</p> +<p class="i4">For no license is here needed</p> +<p class="i4">On the Rhine; if anybody</p> +<p class="i4">Wants to catch a cold by playing</p> +<p class="i4">Late at night there, he may do so.</p> +<p class="i4">No, I only wish to ask you,</p> +<p class="i4">Whether you would like here often</p> +<p class="i4">As last night to blow the trumpet?</p> +<p class="i4">But I fear I am mistaken.</p> +<p class="i4">You are not by trade a player,</p> +<p class="i4">May be one of those damned scribblers,</p> +<p class="i4">Secretary to a foreign</p> +<p class="i4">Embassy, as many are now</p> +<p class="i4">Coaching all about the country,</p> +<p class="i4">Just to spoil all that the soldier's</p> +<p class="i4">Ready sword had once accomplished?"</p> +<p class="i4">"Not bad either," thought young Werner;</p> +<p class="i4">Still he liked the Baron's manner.</p> +<p class="i4">"I am no professional player,"</p> +<p class="i4">Said he, "and still less a scribbler.</p> +<p class="i4">As for my part, all the inkstands</p> +<p class="i4">In the Holy Roman Empire</p> +<p class="i4">Might dry up without my caring.</p> +<p class="i4">I am not in any service,</p> +<p class="i4">But as my own lord and master</p> +<p class="i4">I am travelling for my pleasure,</p> +<p class="i4">And await whatever fortune</p> +<p class="i4">On my pathway may be blooming."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Very good, then," said the Baron.</p> +<p class="i4">"If it stands thus, you may well hear</p> +<p class="i4">Everything I have to tell you;</p> +<p class="i4">But before we go on farther,</p> +<p class="i4">With old wine it must be seasoned."</p> +<p class="i4">Cleverly his thoughts divining,</p> +<p class="i4">Margaretta, from the cellar,</p> +<p class="i4">Now brought up two dusty bottles</p> +<p class="i4">Which, with spider-webs all covered,</p> +<p class="i4">In the sand had lain half-buried;</p> +<p class="i4">Brought with them two fine-cut goblets,</p> +<p class="i4">Which she filled and then presented.</p> +<p class="i4">"This wine ripened long before the</p> +<p class="i4">War raged in our German country,"</p> +<p class="i4">Said the Baron. "'Tis a famous</p> +<p class="i4">Choice old wine which grew at <a name="div1Ref_pg101" href="#div1_pg101"> +Grenzach</a>.</p> +<p class="i4">Brightly in the glass it sparkles,</p> +<p class="i4">Like pure gold its colour shineth,</p> +<p class="i4">And a fragrance rises from it</p> +<p class="i4">Like the finest greenhouse flowers.</p> +<p class="i4">Master Trumpeter, ring glasses!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Loudly then rang both their goblets.</p> +<p class="i4">Emptying his, the Baron spun out</p> +<p class="i4">Farther still the conversation.</p> +<p class="i4">"My young friend, you know, as long as</p> +<p class="i4">This world lasts, there will be people</p> +<p class="i4">Who are fond of hobby-horses.</p> +<p class="i4">Some are mystics and ascetics,</p> +<p class="i4">Others love old wine or brandy.</p> +<p class="i4">Some, antiquities are seeking,</p> +<p class="i4">Others are for chafers craving;</p> +<p class="i4">Many others make bad verses.</p> +<p class="i4">'Tis a curious joke that each one</p> +<p class="i4">Much prefers to choose a calling</p> +<p class="i4">Most unsuited to his nature.</p> +<p class="i4">I thus also ride my hobby,</p> +<p class="i4">And this hobby is the noble</p> +<p class="i4">Muse of music who regales me.</p> +<p class="i4">As King Saul's deep sorrow vanished</p> +<p class="i4">At the sound of David's harp once,</p> +<p class="i4">So with cheering sounds of music</p> +<p class="i4">Do I banish age's inroads</p> +<p class="i4">And the gout, my old disturber.</p> +<p class="i4">When sometimes in <i>tempo presto</i></p> +<p class="i4">I an orchestra am leading,</p> +<p class="i4">Oft I think I'm once more riding</p> +<p class="i4">At the head of my brave squadrons.</p> +<p class="i4">Right wing, charge the enemy! charge!</p> +<p class="i4">At them now you piercing violins!</p> +<p class="i4">Fire away you kettle-drums now!</p> +<p class="i4">In the town here there are many</p> +<p class="i4">Skilful players--though among them</p> +<p class="i4">Is a want of sense artistic,</p> +<p class="i4">And of connoisseurship, only</p> +<p class="i4">Their good will doth hide their failings.</p> +<p class="i4">Violin, flute, also viol,</p> +<p class="i4">All these parts are well supported</p> +<p class="i4">And the contrabass is perfect.</p> +<p class="i4">But <i>one</i> player still is wanting;</p> +<p class="i4">And, my friend, what is a general</p> +<p class="i4">Without orderlies, without a</p> +<p class="i4">Fugleman the line of battle,</p> +<p class="i4">And a band without the trumpet?<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Once 'twas different These old walls can</p> +<p class="i4">Hear him still, the valiant Rassmann,</p> +<p class="i4">The chief trumpeter of my squadrons.</p> +<p class="i4">Ha! that was a noble blowing!</p> +<p class="i4">Rassmann, wherefore didst thou die?<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Still as clear as on his last day,</p> +<p class="i4">Do I see him at the shooting</p> +<p class="i4">Festival at Laufenburg.</p> +<p class="i4">His mustache was fiercely twisted,</p> +<p class="i4">Bright and glistening was his trumpet,</p> +<p class="i4">And his riding-boots were shining</p> +<p class="i4">Like a mirror; I was chuckling.</p> +<p class="i4">''Tis a point of honour,' said he.</p> +<p class="i4">'I must all these Swiss astonish</p> +<p class="i4">With myself and with my trumpet.'<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Clear and cheerful rang out yonder</p> +<p class="i4">Bugle-horns and trumpets; but as</p> +<p class="i4">O'er the choir of forest singers</p> +<p class="i4">Sounds the nightingale's sweet warbling,</p> +<p class="i4">So above all rang out loudly</p> +<p class="i4">Rassmann's wondrous trumpet-blowing.</p> +<p class="i4">When we met, his cheeks were scarlet,</p> +<p class="i4">And fatigued appeared his breathing.</p> +<p class="i4">''Tis a point of honour,' said he;</p> +<p class="i4">And blew on still. Then were silenced</p> +<p class="i4">All the trumpeters from <a name="div1Ref_pg104" href="#div1_pg104"> +Frickthal</a>,</p> +<p class="i4">Those from Solothurn and Aarau,</p> +<p class="i4">By the trumpeter great Rassmann.</p> +<p class="i4">Once again we met, 'twas evening.</p> +<p class="i4">In the 'Golden Swan' he sat then;</p> +<p class="i4">Like a giant 'mid the pigmies</p> +<p class="i4">Looked he in this crowd of players.</p> +<p class="i4">Many were the goblets emptied</p> +<p class="i4">By the trumpeters from Frickthal,</p> +<p class="i4">And from Solothurn and Aarau,</p> +<p class="i4">But the most capacious goblet</p> +<p class="i4">Was drank out by my brave Rassmann.</p> +<p class="i4">And with fiery Castelberger,</p> +<p class="i4">Which grows on the Aar by <a name="div1Ref_pg105" href="#div1_pg105"> +Schinznach</a>,</p> +<p class="i4">He at last filled up his trumpet.</p> +<p class="i4">''Tis a point of honour,' said he;</p> +<p class="i4">Drank it out at one long swallow.</p> +<p class="i4">'To your health my worthy colleagues!</p> +<p class="i4">Thus drinks trumpet-blower Rassmann.'</p> +<p class="i4">Midnight had already passed by,</p> +<p class="i4">Under tables lay some snoring,</p> +<p class="i4">But with steady step and upright</p> +<p class="i4">Started Rassmann from the tavern.</p> +<p class="i4">On the Rhine with mocking humour</p> +<p class="i4">He poured forth a roguish tune yet,</p> +<p class="i4">Then a misstep! Poor, poor Rassmann!</p> +<p class="i4">Straight he fell into the river,</p> +<p class="i4">And the Rhine's tremendous whirlpool</p> +<p class="i4">Thundered foaming and engulfed him,</p> +<p class="i4">Him the bravest trumpet-blower.</p> +<p class="i4">Ha! that was a noble blowing!</p> +<p class="i4">Rassmann, wherefore didst thou die?"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Deeply moved the Baron told this;</p> +<p class="i4">Then continued after pausing:</p> +<p class="i4">"My young friend, and think, last evening</p> +<p class="i4">On the Rhine a trumpet rang out</p> +<p class="i4">Like a greeting from his spirit,</p> +<p class="i4">And a tune I heard performed there,</p> +<p class="i4">Such a wilderness of sounds, and</p> +<p class="i4">Played in Rassmann's finest manner.</p> +<p class="i4">If we only had that trumpet,</p> +<p class="i4">Then the gap would be filled up well.</p> +<p class="i4">And once more I'd lead a full band,</p> +<p class="i4">As it were to frays of music.</p> +<p class="i4">Therefore hear now my proposal:</p> +<p class="i4">Stay with us here in my castle.</p> +<p class="i4">Paralysed is now the music</p> +<p class="i4">In the forest-city, blow then</p> +<p class="i4">New life into her old bones."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Thoughtfully spoke then young Werner:</p> +<p class="i4">"Noble lord, you do me honour,</p> +<p class="i4">But I nourish a misgiving.</p> +<p class="i4">Slim and straight have I thus grown up,</p> +<p class="i4">Have not learnt the art of bending</p> +<p class="i4">My proud back in any service."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Said the Baron: "Take no trouble</p> +<p class="i4">On that head; because the service</p> +<p class="i4">Of the arts enslaves nobody.</p> +<p class="i4">Only want of understanding</p> +<p class="i4">Makes one lose one's independence.</p> +<p class="i4">Be assured, nought is required</p> +<p class="i4">Of you but some merry music.</p> +<p class="i4">Only, if in idle moments</p> +<p class="i4">You would write for me a letter,</p> +<p class="i4">Or with my accounts would help me,</p> +<p class="i4">I should thank you; for an ancient</p> +<p class="i4">Soldier finds the pen a burden."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Still young Werner hesitated;</p> +<p class="i4">But a glance at Margaretta,</p> +<p class="i4">And the clouds of doubt all vanished.</p> +<p class="i4">"Noble lord," he said, "I'll stay then,</p> +<p class="i4">On the Rhine shall be my home now!"</p> +<p class="i4">"Bravo!" said the Baron kindly.</p> +<p class="i4">"From the prompting of the moment</p> +<p class="i4">Have the best results proceeded;</p> +<p class="i4">Evil springs from hesitation.</p> +<p class="i4">Master Trumpeter ring glasses!</p> +<p class="i4">With the golden wine of Grenzach,</p> +<p class="i4">With a hearty grasp of hands thus</p> +<p class="i4">Let us seal our new-made contract."</p> +<p class="i4">Turning then to Margaretta:</p> +<p class="i4">"I present to you, my daughter,</p> +<p class="i4">This new member of our household."</p> +<p class="i4">Then young Werner's silent greeting</p> +<p class="i4">Was returned by Margaretta.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Follow me now through the castle,</p> +<p class="i4">My young friend, that I may show you</p> +<p class="i4">Where you will abide in future.</p> +<p class="i4">In the tower there I have the</p> +<p class="i4">Very room for a musician,</p> +<p class="i4">O'er the Rhine and mountains looking;</p> +<p class="i4">And the radiant morning sun will</p> +<p class="i4">Wake you early from your slumber.</p> +<p class="i4">There you cosily can nestle.</p> +<p class="i4">And the trumpet will sound well there."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">From the hall they both proceeded.</p> +<p class="i4">From the hall the Baron's daughter</p> +<p class="i4">Also went, and in the garden</p> +<p class="i4">Gathered cowslips and sweet violets,</p> +<p class="i4">Also other fragrant flowers,</p> +<p class="i4">Speaking to herself: "How lonely</p> +<p class="i4">Must the young man feel here, coming</p> +<p class="i4">Thus to dwell with utter strangers!</p> +<p class="i4">And, besides, the tower-room looks</p> +<p class="i4">With its whitewashed walls so naked,</p> +<p class="i4">That I think my pretty nosegay</p> +<p class="i4">Will do much for its adornment."<p> +</div></div> +<br> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_pt7" href="#div1Ref_pt7">SEVENTH PART.</a></h2> +<br> + +<h3><a name="div1Ref_pg109" href="#div1_pg109">THE EXCURSION TO THE MOUNTAIN +LAKE.</a></h3> +<br> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Azure heavens, glowing sunlight,</p> +<p class="i4">Bees' low humming, larks' gay carols,</p> +<p class="i4">Clear as glass the Rhine's green waters.</p> +<p class="i4">On the mountains snow is melting,</p> +<p class="i4">In the valleys blossom fruit trees,</p> +<p class="i4">May begins his reign at last.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">In the path before the hall door</p> +<p class="i4">Hiddigeigei took his comfort,</p> +<p class="i4">Caring only that the sun's rays</p> +<p class="i4">On his fur should fall and warm him.</p> +<p class="i4">Through the garden walked the Baron</p> +<p class="i4">With his daughter, and with pleasure</p> +<p class="i4">He beheld the trees in blossom.</p> +<p class="i4">"If my life should be preserved still</p> +<p class="i4">For a hundred years or longer,</p> +<p class="i4">I should always be delighted</p> +<p class="i4">With this wonder-breathing May-time.</p> +<p class="i4">True, indeed, I set no value</p> +<p class="i4">On the May-dew, though the women</p> +<p class="i4">Like to wet with it their faces.</p> +<p class="i4">I have never seen a soul yet</p> +<p class="i4">Who by it improved her beauty;</p> +<p class="i4">Have no faith in arts of witchcraft</p> +<p class="i4">In the night of St. Walpurgis,</p> +<p class="i4">Nor in broomstick-riding squadrons.</p> +<p class="i4">Notwithstanding there belongs a</p> +<p class="i4">Magic to the month of May.</p> +<p class="i4">My old weary bones have suffered</p> +<p class="i4">Many painful gouty twinges</p> +<p class="i4">From the chilly winds of April.</p> +<p class="i4">Now these pains are quite forgotten,</p> +<p class="i4">And I feel as if the old strength</p> +<p class="i4">Of my youth were through me streaming,</p> +<p class="i4">And as if I were once more a</p> +<p class="i4">Beardless trim and gay young ensign,</p> +<p class="i4">In those days when at Noerdlingen</p> +<p class="i4">I fought fiercely, in close combat</p> +<p class="i4">With those brave blue Swedish horseman.</p> +<p class="i4">So I think, it would be pleasant</p> +<p class="i4">To agree, this is a feast-day,</p> +<p class="i4">Though no Saint has ever claimed it.</p> +<p class="i4">Let us saunter through the forest.</p> +<p class="i4">I will breathe the balmy pine air,</p> +<p class="i4">And the young folks may try whether</p> +<p class="i4">Fortune favours them at fishing.</p> +<p class="i4">Yes, to-day I yearn for pleasure.</p> +<p class="i4">Anton, get the horses ready."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">So 'twas done as he had ordered.</p> +<p class="i4">In the court, filled with impatience,</p> +<p class="i4">Pawed and neighed the fiery horses.</p> +<p class="i4">Full of joyful expectation</p> +<p class="i4">For the sport were the young people.</p> +<p class="i4">Bent on fishing they had carried</p> +<p class="i4">The great net up from the river.</p> +<p class="i4">Worthy Anton had invited</p> +<p class="i4">Many friends of the old Baron,</p> +<p class="i4">Also had communicated</p> +<p class="i4">With the ladies of the convent;</p> +<p class="i4">And, besides, some uninvited</p> +<p class="i4">Guests had also here assembled.</p> +<p class="i4">When the landlord of the "Button"</p> +<p class="i4">Heard the news, he to his wife said:</p> +<p class="i4">"To thy care I trust entirely</p> +<p class="i4">All the business of the tavern;</p> +<p class="i4">In thy hands I lay the keys now</p> +<p class="i4">Of the cellar and the larder,</p> +<p class="i4">I must join the fishing-party."</p> +<p class="i4">Speaking thus he stole off quickly;</p> +<p class="i4">Ne'er he missed a hunt or fishing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Strong and hearty looked the Baron,</p> +<p class="i4">On his charger firmly seated</p> +<p class="i4">Like a bronze equestrian statue.</p> +<p class="i4">By his side on her white palfrey</p> +<p class="i4">Rode the lovely Margaretta.</p> +<p class="i4">Gracefully to her slim figure</p> +<p class="i4">Clung in folds her riding-habit;</p> +<p class="i4">Gracefully the blue veil floated</p> +<p class="i4">From her riding-hat of velvet.</p> +<p class="i4">With a steady hand she boldly</p> +<p class="i4">Reined her palfrey, who was bearing</p> +<p class="i4">With delight so fair a burden.</p> +<p class="i4">Watchfully good Anton followed</p> +<p class="i4">His fair mistress; also Werner</p> +<p class="i4">After them was gaily trotting,</p> +<p class="i4">Though at a respectful distance.</p> +<p class="i4">For, behind, in solemn grandeur,</p> +<p class="i4">Came the big old-fashioned carriage</p> +<p class="i4">Of the Lady Princess Abbess,</p> +<p class="i4">With three ladies of the convent,</p> +<p class="i4">Likewise old and venerable.</p> +<p class="i4">They by Werner were escorted.</p> +<p class="i4">He made many courtly speeches</p> +<p class="i4">To these old and noble ladies,</p> +<p class="i4">And broke many flowering branches</p> +<p class="i4">From the trees, and most politely</p> +<p class="i4">Handed them into the carriage;</p> +<p class="i4">So that, struck with his fine manners,</p> +<p class="i4">They unto each other whispered:</p> +<p class="i4">"What a pity he's not noble!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Up hill steep the road ascended,</p> +<p class="i4">And the forest of dark pine-trees</p> +<p class="i4">Now received the long procession.</p> +<p class="i4">Soon then through the dusky branches</p> +<p class="i4">Silver like the mountain-lake shone,</p> +<p class="i4">And already merry shouting</p> +<p class="i4">Came from thence; for the young people</p> +<p class="i4">Of the town had gained the lake-shore</p> +<p class="i4">By a shorter steeper path.</p> +<p class="i4">At the summit, where the main-road</p> +<p class="i4">Took a different direction,</p> +<p class="i4">Carriages and riders halted,</p> +<p class="i4">And the vehicles and horses</p> +<p class="i4">To the servants' care were left.</p> +<p class="i4">Full of vigour, through the forest,</p> +<p class="i4">Down the hill-slope walked the Baron,</p> +<p class="i4">And the ladies followed bravely.</p> +<p class="i4">Mosses like the softest velvet</p> +<p class="i4">Thickly covered all the ground there,</p> +<p class="i4">And descending was not dangerous.</p> +<p class="i4">On a ridge, which wide and sunny,</p> +<p class="i4">Far into the lake protruded,</p> +<p class="i4">Numerous blocks of rock lay scattered.</p> +<p class="i4">There the Baron rested, and the</p> +<p class="i4">Ladies followed his example.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Deep green lake, dense shade of fir-trees,</p> +<p class="i4">Many thousand times I greet you.</p> +<p class="i4">I who now this song am singing</p> +<p class="i4">Of the past, rejoice in you still.</p> +<p class="i4">Oh, how oft ye have refreshed me,</p> +<p class="i4">When escaping from the daily</p> +<p class="i4">Narrowness of petty town life,</p> +<p class="i4">Out to you I used to wander.</p> +<p class="i4">Often on the rock I've rested,</p> +<p class="i4">Which the roots of the old pine-trees</p> +<p class="i4">Cling to, while beneath the lake lies</p> +<p class="i4">With its gently rippled surface.</p> +<p class="i4">In deep shade the shores lie buried,</p> +<p class="i4">But the glittering rays of sunlight</p> +<p class="i4">Gaily dance across the water.</p> +<p class="i4">All around reigned holy silence,</p> +<p class="i4">Only heard there was the hammering</p> +<p class="i4">Of the pecker on the pine-trees.</p> +<p class="i4">Through the fallen leaves and mosses</p> +<p class="i4">Rustled softly emerald lizards,</p> +<p class="i4">And with clever questioning glances</p> +<p class="i4">Curiously they eyed the stranger.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Yes, I often lay there dreaming;</p> +<p class="i4">And when often still at night-fall</p> +<p class="i4">I sat there, I heard a rustling</p> +<p class="i4">Through the reeds, the water-lilies</p> +<p class="i4">Whispered softly to each other.</p> +<p class="i4">Then arose from the deep water</p> +<p class="i4">Mermaids, whose fair pallid faces</p> +<p class="i4">Brightly shone in the soft moonlight.</p> +<p class="i4">Heart overwhelming, mind bewildering,</p> +<p class="i4">Were their gliding graceful motions;</p> +<p class="i4">And they beckoned me to come there.</p> +<p class="i4">But the fir-tree held and warned me:</p> +<p class="i4">"Stay thou here on terra firma,</p> +<p class="i4">Hast no business in the water."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Deep green lake, dense shade of fir-trees,</p> +<p class="i4">Oft I think of you quite sadly.</p> +<p class="i4">Since those days I've been a wanderer:</p> +<p class="i4">I have climbed up many mountains,</p> +<p class="i4">And through many lands have travelled,</p> +<p class="i4">Looked upon the restless ocean,</p> +<p class="i4">And have heard the Sirens singing;</p> +<p class="i4">But yet often through my memory</p> +<p class="i4">Steal the lake's sweet soothing murmurs,</p> +<p class="i4">And soft whispers from the fir-trees,</p> +<p class="i4">Home, and love, and youth recalling.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Now there was a noisy thronging,</p> +<p class="i4">Running, shouting, laughing, joking,</p> +<p class="i4">Down beneath there on the shore.</p> +<p class="i4">Like a general, stood the cunning,</p> +<p class="i4">Skilful landlord of the "Button,"</p> +<p class="i4">'Mid the crowd of younger people,</p> +<p class="i4">And on every side was giving</p> +<p class="i4">His wise counsels, how they might now</p> +<p class="i4">Have a good successful fishing.</p> +<p class="i4">There behind the rocks a boat lay</p> +<p class="i4">In the reeds with brushwood covered,</p> +<p class="i4">And with chains securely fastened,</p> +<p class="i4">That no poachers should disturb it,</p> +<p class="i4">Who might come along at midnight,</p> +<p class="i4">And employ it for their fishing.</p> +<p class="i4">From its hiding-place they dragged it</p> +<p class="i4">Onward to the lake-shore, and there</p> +<p class="i4">Placed the heavy net within it.</p> +<p class="i4">Closely netted were the meshes</p> +<p class="i4">Of the coarsest twine, while many</p> +<p class="i4">Leaden weights thereon were fastened.</p> +<p class="i4">When they tried the boat for leakage,</p> +<p class="i4">Although somewhat out of order,</p> +<p class="i4">They pronounced it quite seaworthy.</p> +<p class="i6">Now the landlord and five comrades,</p> +<p class="i4">Gay and hopeful, took their places,</p> +<p class="i4">And one end of the great net threw</p> +<p class="i4">To some friends on shore remaining,</p> +<p class="i4">With the charge to hold it tightly.</p> +<p class="i4">From the shore they pushed away now,</p> +<p class="i4">Rowing stoutly as the net sank</p> +<p class="i4">Slowly down in a wide curve;</p> +<p class="i4">Then returned with speed much lessened,</p> +<p class="i4">Always dragging on the heavy</p> +<p class="i4">Bulky net, so that the fishes</p> +<p class="i4">Might therein become entangled.</p> +<p class="i4">On the shore they sprang out quickly,</p> +<p class="i4">And drew after them the netting,</p> +<p class="i4">Till they nigh approached those friends who</p> +<p class="i4">Still upon the shore were waiting.</p> +<p class="i4">Stoutly pulling back the ends, they</p> +<p class="i4">Raised the net out of the water,</p> +<p class="i4">In great hopes of lots of booty.</p> +<p class="i4">But within itself entangled</p> +<p class="i4">It came slowly to the surface</p> +<p class="i4">Empty: some unskilful rower</p> +<p class="i4">Had prevented it from sinking,</p> +<p class="i4">And the dwellers of the lake laughed</p> +<p class="i4">To have just escaped such danger.</p> +<p class="i6">Now the landlord cast sharp glances</p> +<p class="i4">Over all the meshes. Nothing</p> +<p class="i4">Met his anxious gaze but water;</p> +<p class="i4">Not the smallest fish was caught there;</p> +<p class="i4">Only an old boot half rotten,</p> +<p class="i4">And a toad half crushed and flattened,</p> +<p class="i4">Which with eyes protruding oddly</p> +<p class="i4">Looked upon the sunlit forest,</p> +<p class="i4">And the human faces round him,</p> +<p class="i4">And he thought: "It is most truly</p> +<p class="i4">Wonderful, how anybody</p> +<p class="i4">Ever can enjoy existence,</p> +<p class="i4">With this sky and this bright sunlight!</p> +<p class="i4">Well, it seems to me no one here</p> +<p class="i4">E'er can have the slightest notion</p> +<p class="i4">Of the mud and all its splendour.</p> +<p class="i4">Would I were in my own element!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Those who stood upon the lake-shore</p> +<p class="i4">Raised a long and roaring laughter</p> +<p class="i4">At these first-fruits of the fishing.</p> +<p class="i4">But in rage broke out the landlord,</p> +<p class="i4">O'er their laughter rang his scolding:</p> +<p class="i4">"Stupid fellows, bunglers, numskulls!"</p> +<p class="i4">And with angry kicks he sent then</p> +<p class="i4">All the booty flying swiftly,</p> +<p class="i4">Boot and toad in peace together</p> +<p class="i4">To the water where they came from.</p> +<p class="i4">Loudly splashing they sank downward.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">But the disappointed fishers</p> +<p class="i4">Would again now try their fortune,</p> +<p class="i4">Loosened all the tangled meshes,</p> +<p class="i4">And with greatest care they lowered</p> +<p class="i4">Then the net and raised it slowly.</p> +<p class="i4">And to do so there were needed</p> +<p class="i4">Many sturdy pulls and struggles.</p> +<p class="i4">Ringing shouts and cries of triumph</p> +<p class="i4">Greeted this successful fishing.</p> +<p class="i4">From the rock came down the Baron</p> +<p class="i4">To the fishers, and the ladies</p> +<p class="i4">Eagerly made haste to follow.</p> +<p class="i4">Over rocks and thorny brambles</p> +<p class="i4">To the shore they found a pathway.</p> +<p class="i4">Margaretta followed also,</p> +<p class="i4">Notwithstanding her long habit.</p> +<p class="i4">When young Werner saw her coming,</p> +<p class="i4">Bashfully his arm he offered,</p> +<p class="i4">And bewildered were his senses.</p> +<p class="i4">So Sir Walter Raleigh's heart once</p> +<p class="i4">Must have beaten, when his mantle</p> +<p class="i4">He made use of as a carpet</p> +<p class="i4">For his gracious royal mistress.</p> +<p class="i4">Yet with thanks fair Margaretta</p> +<p class="i4">Werner's arm and aid accepted.</p> +<p class="i4">Out there in the verdant forest</p> +<p class="i4">Many useless scruples vanish,</p> +<p class="i4">Which oft elsewhere greatly trouble</p> +<p class="i4">Masters of the ceremonies.</p> +<p class="i4">The descent there was not easy,</p> +<p class="i4">And no other arm was near her.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">By the lake they gaily looked now</p> +<p class="i4">At the fishing booty struggling.</p> +<p class="i4">Flapping in the net's strong meshes</p> +<p class="i4">Were the captives. Many snapping</p> +<p class="i4">Sought a way still for escaping,</p> +<p class="i4">But on the bare sand were landed;</p> +<p class="i4">And thus fruitless was their trial.</p> +<p class="i4">Those who felt toward each other</p> +<p class="i4">In the depths such bitter hatred,</p> +<p class="i4">Now as captives were quite peaceful:</p> +<p class="i4">Snake-like eels, so smooth and slippery,</p> +<p class="i4">Well-fed carps with huge broad noses,</p> +<p class="i4">And the pirate-fish, the slender</p> +<p class="i4">Pike with jaws large and voracious.</p> +<p class="i4">As in war, the harmless peasants</p> +<p class="i4">Often to stray shots fall victims,</p> +<p class="i4">So the fate of being captured</p> +<p class="i4">Many others overtook:</p> +<p class="i4">Handsome barbels, spotted gudgeons;</p> +<p class="i4">Tiny bleaks, the river-swallow;</p> +<p class="i4">And through all this crowd of fishes</p> +<p class="i4">Sluggishly the crab was creeping;</p> +<p class="i4">Inwardly he sadly grumbled:</p> +<p class="i4">"Caught together, hung together."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Well contented said the Baron:</p> +<p class="i4">"After labour comes amusement.</p> +<p class="i4">Seems to me, that our fresh booty</p> +<p class="i4">Will taste better in the forest.</p> +<p class="i4">Therefore let us now make ready</p> +<p class="i4">For ourselves a rustic dinner."</p> +<p class="i4">To these words they all assented,</p> +<p class="i4">And the landlord of the "Button"</p> +<p class="i4">Sent out two fleet-footed fellows</p> +<p class="i4">To the city with the order:</p> +<p class="i4">"Two large pans bring quickly hither;</p> +<p class="i4">Bring me golden fresh-made butter,</p> +<p class="i4">Also bread, and salt sufficient,</p> +<p class="i4">And a keg of fine old wine.</p> +<p class="i4">Bring me lemons too, and sugar;</p> +<p class="i4">For I feel a premonition</p> +<p class="i4">As if <a name="div1Ref_pg120" href="#div1_pg120">May-drink</a> +would be wanted."</p> +<p class="i4">Off they started. Under shelter</p> +<p class="i4">Of a rock with a tall pine-tree,</p> +<p class="i4">Some the hearth were getting ready,</p> +<p class="i4">Bringing there dry boughs and fagots,</p> +<p class="i4">Loads of furze and moss together.</p> +<p class="i4">Others now prepared the fishes</p> +<p class="i4">For the feast, and all the ladies</p> +<p class="i4">Gathered herbs of spicy fragrance,</p> +<p class="i4">Such as thyme and leaves of strawberries;</p> +<p class="i4">Also gathered for the May-wine</p> +<p class="i4">The white-blooming fragrant woodroof.</p> +<p class="i4">Which rejoiced at being broken</p> +<p class="i4">By such tender hands, and thought thus:</p> +<p class="i4">"Sweet it was in these dark pine-woods,</p> +<p class="i4">To be blooming, 'mid the rocks here,</p> +<p class="i4">But still sweeter in the May-time</p> +<p class="i4">'Tis to die, and with the last breath</p> +<p class="i4">Highly then to spice the May-wine</p> +<p class="i4">For the joy of human beings.</p> +<p class="i4">Death in general is corruption,</p> +<p class="i4">But the woodroof's death is like that</p> +<p class="i4">Of the morning-dew on blossoms,</p> +<p class="i4">Sweetly, without sighs, exhaling."</p> +<p class="i4">From the town returning quickly</p> +<p class="i4">Came the two fleet-footed fellows,</p> +<p class="i4">Bringing stores, as had been ordered.</p> +<p class="i4">And soon crackled on the stone-hearth</p> +<p class="i4">Cheerfully a blazing fire.</p> +<p class="i4">In the pans were frying briskly</p> +<p class="i4">What had recently been swimming.</p> +<p class="i6">First a mighty pike was served up</p> +<p class="i4">To the ladies by the landlord,</p> +<p class="i4">As a show of rustic cooking;</p> +<p class="i4">And a solemn earnest silence</p> +<p class="i4">Soon gave evidence that all were</p> +<p class="i4">Very busy with the banquet.</p> +<p class="i4">Only the confused low sounds of</p> +<p class="i4">Gnawing fish-bones, munching crab-claws,</p> +<p class="i4">Now disturbed the forest quiet.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Meanwhile, farther up, delicious</p> +<p class="i4">Fragrant May-wine was preparing.</p> +<p class="i4">In a bowl of size capacious</p> +<p class="i4">Margaretta's taste artistic</p> +<p class="i4">Well had brewed it; mild and spicy,</p> +<p class="i4">As sweet May himself the drink was.</p> +<p class="i4">Every glass she filled up, kindly</p> +<p class="i4">Helping all with graceful bearing.</p> +<p class="i4">Everybody got his share, and</p> +<p class="i4">All were merry round the fire.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">There the city-teacher also</p> +<p class="i4">Stretched himself upon the grass-bank.</p> +<p class="i4">From the school he had absconded,</p> +<p class="i4">Also to enjoy the fishing.</p> +<p class="i4">In his heart he bore a secret,</p> +<p class="i4">Had to-day composed a song.</p> +<p class="i4">May-wine, May-wine, drink of magic!</p> +<p class="i4">Suddenly his cheeks were glowing,</p> +<p class="i4">And his eyes were shining brightly.</p> +<p class="i4">On the rock he sprang courageous,</p> +<p class="i4">Saying: "I will sing you something."</p> +<p class="i4">Smiling now, the others listened,</p> +<p class="i4">And young Werner stepping forward,</p> +<p class="i4">On his trumpet low and softly</p> +<p class="i4">Blew a piece first as a prelude.</p> +<p class="i4">Then upon the rock the teacher</p> +<p class="i4">Raised his voice and sang with fervour.</p> +<p class="i4">Werner joined him on the trumpet</p> +<p class="i4">Clear and joyful, and the chorus</p> +<p class="i4">Also fell in--clear and joyful</p> +<p class="i4">Through the forest rang the<p> +</div></div> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<h3>MAY SONG.</h3> + +<p class="i4">"A wondrous youth of lovely mien</p> +<p class="i6">Rich gifts of joy is strewing;</p> +<p class="i4">O'er hill and vale, where'er are seen</p> +<p class="i6">His footsteps, light is glowing.</p> +<p class="i8">The fresh young green decks hill and lea,</p> +<p class="i8">The birds are singing merrily,</p> +<p class="i8">While falls in gentle showers</p> +<p class="i8">A rain of snow-white flowers.</p> +<p class="i4">So in the woods we sing and shout,</p> +<p class="i6">Heigh-tralala loud ringing;</p> +<p class="i4">We sing, while all things bud and sprout,</p> +<p class="i6">To May our welcome bringing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">"Young May in humming sounds delights,</p> +<p class="i6">Is full of merry capers;</p> +<p class="i4">So through the fir-trees swarm great flights</p> +<p class="i6">Of golden buzzing chafers.</p> +<p class="i8">And from the moss white lilies rise,</p> +<p class="i8">Of spring the fairest sweetest prize;</p> +<p class="i8">Their bells in tuneful measure</p> +<p class="i8">Ring in the May with pleasure.</p> +<p class="i4">So in the woods we sing and shout,</p> +<p class="i6">Heigh-tralala loud ringing;</p> +<p class="i4">We sing, while all things bud and sprout,</p> +<p class="i6">To May our welcome bringing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">"Now everyone may think, who can,</p> +<p class="i6">Of mirth, and love that burneth;</p> +<p class="i4">To many an old and worthy man</p> +<p class="i6">His youth again returneth.</p> +<p class="i8">His shouts resound across the Rhine:</p> +<p class="i8">'O let me in, thou sweetheart mine!'</p> +<p class="i8">And voices loud are crying;</p> +<p class="i8">Love's darts in May are flying.</p> +<p class="i4">So in the woods we sing and shout</p> +<p class="i6">Heigh-tralala loud ringing;</p> +<p class="i4">We sing, while all things bud and sprout,</p> +<p class="i6">To May our welcome bringing."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Long the plaudits, loud the clapping,</p> +<p class="i4">When it ended. And the ladies</p> +<p class="i4">Also seemed delighted with it;</p> +<p class="i4">As, indeed, in the loud chorus</p> +<p class="i4">Many gentle female voices</p> +<p class="i4">Readily could be distinguished.</p> +<p class="i4">Margaret in playful humour,</p> +<p class="i4">Out of hazel-leaves and holly,</p> +<p class="i4">And of violets and crowfoot,</p> +<p class="i4">Wound a garland, and said archly:</p> +<p class="i4">"This wreath to the most deserving!</p> +<p class="i4">But I'm puzzled who shall get it--</p> +<p class="i4">Whether he who sang the May-song,</p> +<p class="i4">Or else he who on the trumpet</p> +<p class="i4">Played the fine accompaniment."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Said the Baron: "In this matter</p> +<p class="i4">I will give a just decision.</p> +<p class="i4">Ever the first prize is given</p> +<p class="i4">To the poet; but a garland</p> +<p class="i4">Or a laurel-crown, what are they?</p> +<p class="i4">I agree with the old Grecians</p> +<p class="i4">Who awarded to the singer</p> +<p class="i4">Just the victim's fattest portion,</p> +<p class="i4">As the saddle or the buttock.</p> +<p class="i4">And I fancy that the teacher's</p> +<p class="i4">Stores are not so well provided,</p> +<p class="i4">That he'll offer an objection.</p> +<p class="i4">Therefore I make him a present</p> +<p class="i4">Of the largest pike and carp, which</p> +<p class="i4">Still are left among our booty.</p> +<p class="i4">But as my young friend, the trumpeter,</p> +<p class="i4">Seems disposed less practically,</p> +<p class="i4">So you may, in my opinion,</p> +<p class="i4">Honour him with your fair garland;</p> +<p class="i4">For, indeed, he played not badly."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Simpering now the happy singer</p> +<p class="i4">Rubbed his hands and blessed the May-time,</p> +<p class="i4">As he saw a glowing vision</p> +<p class="i4">Of the pan with fishes frying.</p> +<p class="i4">But young Werner to the maiden</p> +<p class="i4">Bashfully approached, and lowly</p> +<p class="i4">Bending on his knee, he hardly</p> +<p class="i4">Dared to gaze at her blue eyes.</p> +<p class="i4">But with grace placed Margaretta</p> +<p class="i4">On his brow the blooming garland,</p> +<p class="i4">While a weird and lurid fire-light</p> +<p class="i4">Suddenly in fitful flashes</p> +<p class="i4">Fell upon the group assembled.</p> +<p class="i4">For the embers on the hearth-stone</p> +<p class="i4">Had ignited the old pine-tree.</p> +<p class="i4">Flaming fiery tongues now glided</p> +<p class="i4">Through the branches full of resin;</p> +<p class="i4">And the sparks flew crackling upward</p> +<p class="i4">Wildly to the evening sky.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Margaretta, Margaretta!</p> +<p class="i4">Were they fireworks which the pine woods</p> +<p class="i4">Fondly burned to do thee honour?</p> +<p class="i4">Or did Cupid with his flaming</p> +<p class="i4">Love-torch wander through the forest?</p> +<p class="i4">But the flames were soon extinguished.</p> +<p class="i4">And the Baron now gave orders</p> +<p class="i4">That the party should break up; and</p> +<p class="i4">Fishers, riders, noble ladies,</p> +<p class="i4">All went homeward in the twilight.</p> +<p class="i4">Faintly glimmering fell the last bright</p> +<p class="i4">Sparks from out the pine-tree branches,</p> +<p class="i4">Sinking in the mountain-lake.<p> +</div></div> +<br> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_pt8" href="#div1Ref_pt8">EIGHTH PART.</a></h2> +<br> + +<h3>THE CONCERT IN THE GARDEN PAVILION.</h3> +<br> +<br> +<<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">In the garden of the castle</p> +<p class="i4">Mighty chestnut trees are standing,</p> +<p class="i4">And a pretty gay pavilion.</p> +<p class="i4">In the Rhine are deeply sunken</p> +<p class="i4">The foundations of the terrace.</p> +<p class="i4">'Tis a quiet cosy corner,</p> +<p class="i4">Hidden by a mass of foliage.</p> +<p class="i4">While below the waves are murmuring.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">For the last two months, mysterious</p> +<p class="i4">Business has been going on here.</p> +<p class="i4">Pots of colours, painting brushes,</p> +<p class="i4">Lime and mortar, masons' trowels</p> +<p class="i4">And high scaffoldings are rising</p> +<p class="i4">To the dome of the pavilion.</p> +<p class="i4">Is't some evil spirit's workshop?--</p> +<p class="i4">'Tis no evil spirit's workshop.</p> +<p class="i4">Frescoes here are being painted,</p> +<p class="i4">And the legs which there are dangling</p> +<p class="i4">From the lofty wooden scaffold,</p> +<p class="i4">Are the legs of the illustrious</p> +<p class="i4">Fresco-painter Fludribus,</p> +<p class="i4">Who returning from Italia</p> +<p class="i4">Had been living in the Rhine-land.</p> +<p class="i4">He was pleased with the fair country,</p> +<p class="i4">And the rosy happy faces,</p> +<p class="i4">And the cellars full of wine.</p> +<p class="i4">All the people wondered at him</p> +<p class="i4">As they would at an enchanter;</p> +<p class="i4">For he told them marvellous stories.</p> +<p class="i4">In his youth he had been travelling,</p> +<p class="i4">And by chance once in Bologna</p> +<p class="i4">Came upon the school of artists.</p> +<p class="i4">In the studio of Albini</p> +<p class="i4">He became a colour-mixer;</p> +<p class="i4">And from this most graceful master</p> +<p class="i4">He found out with ready cunning</p> +<p class="i4">How to paint both gods and heroes,</p> +<p class="i4">And the airy little cupids.</p> +<p class="i4">Yes, he even helped the master,</p> +<p class="i4">Making easy light gradations,</p> +<p class="i4">Or preparing the dead colouring.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">On the Rhine, far round the country</p> +<p class="i4">Fludribus was the sole artist.</p> +<p class="i4">Painted many tavern sign-boards,</p> +<p class="i4">Pictures also for the chapels,</p> +<p class="i4">Portraits e'en of brides of peasants.</p> +<p class="i4">Stable was his reputation;</p> +<p class="i4">For if any criticisers</p> +<p class="i4">Would find fault with his great paintings,</p> +<p class="i4">That an arm or nose was crooked,</p> +<p class="i4">Or a cheek looked too much swollen,</p> +<p class="i4">Then he would overwhelm his critics</p> +<p class="i4">With the big high-sounding phrases</p> +<p class="i4">He had learnt when at Bologna.</p> +<p class="i4">Hearing nothing but perspective,</p> +<p class="i4">Colouring and soft gradation,</p> +<p class="i4">Modelling and bold foreshortening,</p> +<p class="i4">Soon they lost their wits entirely.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Margaretta, who with faithful</p> +<p class="i4">Love had long the matter pondered,</p> +<p class="i4">How she would surprise her father</p> +<p class="i4">With a pleasure on his birthday,</p> +<p class="i4">Spoke to Master Fludribus:</p> +<p class="i4">"I have heard it oft related</p> +<p class="i4">How in France in lordly castles</p> +<p class="i4">They adorn the walls with frescoes.</p> +<p class="i4">Therefore try to paint now something</p> +<p class="i4">Like them here in my pavilion.</p> +<p class="i4">From the world secluded, I know</p> +<p class="i4">Naught about such compositions;</p> +<p class="i4">Therefore to your taste I leave all,</p> +<p class="i4">Only you must work in secret,</p> +<p class="i4">As the Baron must know nothing."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Fludribus looked consequential:</p> +<p class="i4">"Though but trifling is the order,</p> +<p class="i4">Still I coincide with Cæsar,</p> +<p class="i4">And am rather here considered</p> +<p class="i4">First than at great Rome the second.</p> +<p class="i4">And besides, there all is finished.</p> +<p class="i4">Even in the Pope's own palace</p> +<p class="i4">All those thoughts high and æsthetic,</p> +<p class="i4">Which I in my bosom cherished,</p> +<p class="i4">Has a man by name of Raphael</p> +<p class="i4">Painted on the walls already.</p> +<p class="i4">But I shall great things achieve,</p> +<p class="i4">And shall do like Buffamalco,</p> +<p class="i4">Who with rich red wine imparted</p> +<p class="i4">Glowing warmth to the cold colours.</p> +<p class="i4">Therefore, furnish me with red wine</p> +<p class="i4">First; of course, good eating with it.</p> +<p class="i4">Rich reward I do not care for,</p> +<p class="i4">Since the thought is my enjoyment,</p> +<p class="i4">That I shall be made immortal</p> +<p class="i4">Through the efforts of my genius.</p> +<p class="i4">Thus I'll paint for almost nothing,</p> +<p class="i4">Just the square foot seven shillings."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Since two months he had been painting</p> +<p class="i4">On the walls beneath the arched roof;</p> +<p class="i4">Imitated Buffamalco;</p> +<p class="i4">But he drank himself the red wine.</p> +<p class="i4">And his compositions truly</p> +<p class="i4">Were artistic, highly proper,</p> +<p class="i4">And of elegant conception.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">To begin with: there paraded</p> +<p class="i4">Perseus and Andromeda;</p> +<p class="i4">At their feet lay deadly wounded</p> +<p class="i4">The great Hydra, with a handsome</p> +<p class="i4">Face, much like a human being,</p> +<p class="i4">Who in dying still coquetted</p> +<p class="i4">With the lovely rock-bound captive.</p> +<p class="i4">Then the Judgment came of Paris;</p> +<p class="i4">And in order that the dazzling</p> +<p class="i4">Beauty of those heavenly ladies</p> +<p class="i4">Should not quite eclipse the hero,</p> +<p class="i4">They looked off toward the landscape,</p> +<p class="i4">With their backs to the spectator.</p> +<p class="i4">Similar were the other pictures:</p> +<p class="i4">As Diana and Actæon,</p> +<p class="i4">Orpheus and Eurydice.</p> +<p class="i4">For the man of genius chooses</p> +<p class="i4">From mythology his subjects;</p> +<p class="i4">And he thinks, in nudeness only,</p> +<p class="i4">Is revealed the highest beauty.</p> +<p class="i4">Now the work was all accomplished,</p> +<p class="i4">And with feeling, said the master:</p> +<p class="i4">"Happy can I go to Hades,</p> +<p class="i4">As my works are my memorial.</p> +<p class="i4">In the history of this Rhine-land</p> +<p class="i4">A new epoch of the fine arts</p> +<p class="i4">Will begin with Fludribus."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">'Twas the wish of Margaretta</p> +<p class="i4">To inaugurate with music</p> +<p class="i4">This so beautified pavilion.</p> +<p class="i4">Ha! how Werner's heart was beating,</p> +<p class="i4">When he heard the maid's desire.</p> +<p class="i4">He directly went to Basel</p> +<p class="i4">To select the new productions</p> +<p class="i4">Of the musical composers;</p> +<p class="i4">And he brought the scores back with him</p> +<p class="i4">Of the great Venetian master,</p> +<p class="i4">Claudio di Monteverde,</p> +<p class="i4">Whose sweet pastoral composition</p> +<p class="i4">Carried off the prize in music.</p> +<p class="i4">Then there was a noisy bustle</p> +<p class="i4">'Mongst the artists of the city;</p> +<p class="i4">And a most increasing practice</p> +<p class="i4">In the frequent long rehearsals,</p> +<p class="i4">All unnoticed by the Baron.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Now, at last, the long-expected</p> +<p class="i4">Day had come, the Baron's birthday.</p> +<p class="i4">At the table he was chatting</p> +<p class="i4">With his friend and pleasant neighbour,</p> +<p class="i4">The good prelate of St. Blasien,</p> +<p class="i4">Who had driven hither early,</p> +<p class="i4">To express his heartfelt wishes.</p> +<p class="i4">Meanwhile many hands were busy</p> +<p class="i4">Decorating the pavilion</p> +<p class="i4">With fresh garlands, and were placing</p> +<p class="i4">Rows of music-desks in order.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">By degrees there came now gliding</p> +<p class="i4">Through the side-gate by the river</p> +<p class="i4">All the musical performers.</p> +<p class="i4">First, the youthful burgomaster</p> +<p class="i4">Bending under the unwieldy</p> +<p class="i4">Contra-bass, whose sounds sonorous</p> +<p class="i4">Often from his thoughts did banish</p> +<p class="i4">All the cares of his high office,</p> +<p class="i4">And the council's stupid blunders.</p> +<p class="i4">Next there came the bloated chaplain</p> +<p class="i4">Who played finely on the violin,</p> +<p class="i4">Drawing from it such shrill wailings,</p> +<p class="i4">As if wishing to give utterance</p> +<p class="i4">To his lonely bachelor's heart.</p> +<p class="i4">With his horn beneath his arm came</p> +<p class="i4">The receiver's clerk, who often,</p> +<p class="i4">A great bore to his superior,</p> +<p class="i4">With his playing did enliven</p> +<p class="i4">All the dry accounts he summed up,</p> +<p class="i4">And the dulness of subtraction.</p> +<p class="i4">There came also stepping slowly,</p> +<p class="i4">Dressed in black, but shabby looking,</p> +<p class="i4">With a hat the worse for usage,</p> +<p class="i4">He the lank assistant-teacher,</p> +<p class="i4">Who by Art consoled himself for</p> +<p class="i4">What was wanting in his income,</p> +<p class="i4">And instead of wine and roast beef</p> +<p class="i4">Lived upon his flute's sweet music.</p> +<p class="i4">Then came--Who can count, however,</p> +<p class="i4">All these instrumental players?</p> +<p class="i4">All the talent of the city</p> +<p class="i4">For this concert had united.</p> +<p class="i4">From the ironworks of <a name="div1Ref_pg135" href="#div1_pg135"> +Albbruck</a></p> +<p class="i4">Even came the superintendent;</p> +<p class="i4">He alone played the viola.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Like a troop of mounted warriors</p> +<p class="i4">Who the enemy expecting,</p> +<p class="i4">Lurk in safe and hidden ambush,</p> +<p class="i4">So they waited for the Baron</p> +<p class="i4">To arrive. And like good marksmen</p> +<p class="i4">Who with care before the battle</p> +<p class="i4">Try their weapons, if their powder</p> +<p class="i4">By the dew has not been damaged,</p> +<p class="i4">If the flint is good for striking;</p> +<p class="i4">So by blowing, scraping, tuning,</p> +<p class="i4">They their instruments were trying.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Margaretta led the Baron</p> +<p class="i4">And his guest now to the garden.</p> +<p class="i4">Women never are in want of</p> +<p class="i4">A good pretext, when some fun or</p> +<p class="i4">Some surprise they are preparing.</p> +<p class="i4">So she praised the shady coolness</p> +<p class="i4">And the view from the pavilion,</p> +<p class="i4">Till the two old friends were turning</p> +<p class="i4">Toward that spot without suspicion.</p> +<p class="i4">Like a volley then resounded</p> +<p class="i4">At their entrance a loud flourish,</p> +<p class="i4">Every instrument saluting;</p> +<p class="i4">And like roaring torrents bursting</p> +<p class="i4">Wildly through the gaping sluice-gate,</p> +<p class="i4">So the overture let loose now</p> +<p class="i4">Its loud storming floods of music</p> +<p class="i4">On the much astonished hearers.</p> +<p class="i4">With the greatest skill young Werner</p> +<p class="i4">Led the orchestra, whose chorus</p> +<p class="i4">Gladly yielded to his bâton.</p> +<p class="i4">Ha! that was a splendid bowing,</p> +<p class="i4">Such a fiddling, such a pealing!</p> +<p class="i4">Hopping lightly, like a locust,</p> +<p class="i4">Through the din the clarinet flew,</p> +<p class="i4">And the contra-bass kept groaning,</p> +<p class="i4">As if wailing for its soul,</p> +<p class="i4">While the player's brow was sweating</p> +<p class="i4">From his arduous performance.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">There behind in the orchestra</p> +<p class="i4">Fludribus the drum was beating;</p> +<p class="i4">As a many-sided genius,</p> +<p class="i4">During pauses, he was also</p> +<p class="i4">To the triangle attending.</p> +<p class="i4">But his heart o'erflowed with sadness;</p> +<p class="i4">And the drum's dull sound re-echoed</p> +<p class="i4">His complaints, as dull and grumbling:</p> +<p class="i4">"Dilettanti, happy people!</p> +<p class="i4">Merrily they suck the honey</p> +<p class="i4">From the flowers which with heavy</p> +<p class="i4">Throes the Master's mind created;</p> +<p class="i4">And they spice well their enjoyment</p> +<p class="i4">With their mutual frequent blunders.</p> +<p class="i4">Genuine Art is a titanic</p> +<p class="i4">Heaven-storming strife and struggle</p> +<p class="i4">For a Beauty still receding,</p> +<p class="i4">While the soul is gnawed with longing</p> +<p class="i4">For the unattained Ideal.</p> +<p class="i4">But these bunglers are quite happy."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Now the din of sound subsided.</p> +<p class="i4">As oft after heavy tempests,</p> +<p class="i4">When the thunder ceases pealing,</p> +<p class="i4">Mildly shineth forth the rainbow</p> +<p class="i4">'Gainst the canopy of heaven;</p> +<p class="i4">So now the full band is followed</p> +<p class="i4">By the trumpet's dulcet solo.</p> +<p class="i4">Werner blew it: low and melting</p> +<p class="i4">Rang the tunes forth from the trumpet.</p> +<p class="i4">Full of wonder some were staring</p> +<p class="i4">At the score, in wonder also</p> +<p class="i4">The fat chaplain nudged the teacher</p> +<p class="i4">On the arm, and whispered softly:</p> +<p class="i4">"Hear'st thou what he's playing? Nothing</p> +<p class="i4">Like it in the score is written.</p> +<p class="i4">Has he read perhaps his music</p> +<p class="i4">In the fair young lady's eyes?"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Splendidly the concert came thus</p> +<p class="i4">To an end, and the musicians</p> +<p class="i4">Sat exhausted and yet happy</p> +<p class="i4">That they had so well succeeded.</p> +<p class="i4">Now the prelate of St. Blasien</p> +<p class="i4">Stepped forth bowing quite politely</p> +<p class="i4">To the band, and as a clever</p> +<p class="i4">Connoisseur and statesman spoke thus:</p> +<p class="i4">"Heavy wounds have been inflicted</p> +<p class="i4">On our land while war was raging,</p> +<p class="i4">And throughout our German country</p> +<p class="i4">Rudeness was predominating.</p> +<p class="i4">Therefore it deserves great praise, thus</p> +<p class="i4">With the Muses to take refuge.</p> +<p class="i4">This refreshes and ennobles,</p> +<p class="i4">Civilises human beings,</p> +<p class="i4">So that war and strife are silenced.</p> +<p class="i4">All these frescoes on the walls here</p> +<p class="i4">Show no ordinary talent;</p> +<p class="i4">And still more this feast of music</p> +<p class="i4">Makes me think well of the players</p> +<p class="i4">Who my ears have thus delighted,</p> +<p class="i4">Brought my happy youth before me,</p> +<p class="i4">Took me back to fair Italia,</p> +<p class="i4">When in Rome I listened to the</p> +<p class="i4">Tones of Cavalieri's Daphne,</p> +<p class="i4">And idyllic pastoral longing</p> +<p class="i4">Filled my heart to overflowing.</p> +<p class="i4">Therefore, my dear friends, continue</p> +<p class="i4">Thus to worship at Art's altar.</p> +<p class="i4">Let the harmony of sound keep</p> +<p class="i4">Far from you all strife and discord.</p> +<p class="i4">Oh how pleasant it would be, if</p> +<p class="i4">Such a spirit were but common!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Deeply moved by these high praises</p> +<p class="i4">From a man of such rich knowledge,</p> +<p class="i4">The whole orchestra, delighted,</p> +<p class="i4">Bowed to him when he had finished.</p> +<p class="i4">Highly pleased, the Baron also</p> +<p class="i4">Walked around, gave hearty greetings;</p> +<p class="i4">And to testify his thanks--for</p> +<p class="i4">Words alone don't suit a Baron--</p> +<p class="i4">Ordered from his well-stocked cellars</p> +<p class="i4">A huge cask of beer brought up there.</p> +<p class="i4">"'Twas well done, my good musicians,</p> +<p class="i4">Most efficient chapel-master!</p> +<p class="i4">Where the devil have you picked up</p> +<p class="i4">All these pretty compositions?</p> +<p class="i4">And you, Fludribus, have also</p> +<p class="i4">Painted well; suits me exactly.</p> +<p class="i4">Other times, 'tis true, may come yet</p> +<p class="i4">When our goddesses must wear more</p> +<p class="i4">Draperies than you have painted;</p> +<p class="i4">But a gray old soldier does not</p> +<p class="i4">Blame you for a little nudeness.</p> +<p class="i4">Therefore, let us ring our glasses</p> +<p class="i4">To our noble guest's good health, and</p> +<p class="i4">To the excellent musicians.</p> +<p class="i4">Yes, for aught I care, we'll drink to</p> +<p class="i4">The fair shivering painted deities,</p> +<p class="i4">That the winter in the Rhine-land</p> +<p class="i4">May not prove too rigorous for them."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Margaretta thought it wiser</p> +<p class="i4">Now to leave the room, well knowing</p> +<p class="i4">That the party might get noisy.</p> +<p class="i4">On the threshold she gave Werner</p> +<p class="i4">Her fair hand with grateful feeling.</p> +<p class="i4">'Tis most likely that the pressure</p> +<p class="i4">Of the hand was full of meaning;</p> +<p class="i4">But no chronicle doth tell us:</p> +<p class="i4">Was it homage to the artist,</p> +<p class="i4">Or a sign of deeper interest?<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Glasses rang and foaming bumpers,</p> +<p class="i4">And there was some heavy drinking;</p> +<p class="i4">But my song must keep the secret</p> +<p class="i4">Of the fate of late returners;</p> +<p class="i4">Also hide the sudden drowning</p> +<p class="i4">Which the hat of the lank teacher</p> +<p class="i4">Suffered in the Rhine that night.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">But at midnight, when the last guest</p> +<p class="i4">For his home long since had started,</p> +<p class="i4">Low the chestnut trees were whispering.</p> +<p class="i4">Said the one: "Oh fresco paintings!"</p> +<p class="i4">Said the other: "Oh thou ding dong!"</p> +<p class="i4">Then the first: "I see the future--</p> +<p class="i4">See there two remorseless workmen,</p> +<p class="i4">See two monstrous painting-brushes,</p> +<p class="i4">See two buckets full of whitewash.</p> +<p class="i4">And they quietly daub over,</p> +<p class="i4">With a heavy coating, heroes,</p> +<p class="i4">Deities, and Fludribus.</p> +<p class="i4">Other ages--other pictures!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Said the other: "In the far-off</p> +<p class="i4">Future I hear from the same place</p> +<p class="i4">Glees resounding from male voices.</p> +<p class="i4">Rising to our lofty summits,</p> +<p class="i4">Simple touching German music.</p> +<p class="i4">Other ages--other music!"</p> +<p class="i4">Both together added: "True love</p> +<p class="i4">Will endure throughout all ages!"<p> +</div></div> +<br> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_pt9" href="#div1Ref_pt9">NINTH PART.</a></h2> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<h3>TEACHING AND LEARNING.</h3> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Winds and the swift river's current</p> +<p class="i4">Hardly had swept off the dulcet</p> +<p class="i4">Melodies of Monteverde,</p> +<p class="i4">When the people in the city</p> +<p class="i4">Held no other conversation</p> +<p class="i4">Than of this great feast of music.</p> +<p class="i4">Not, however, of the spirit</p> +<p class="i4">Of the melodies they'd heard then,</p> +<p class="i4">Neither of the deep emotion</p> +<p class="i4">Which was in their souls awakened,</p> +<p class="i4">Were they speaking; they disputed</p> +<p class="i4">Who received the Baron's thanks first</p> +<p class="i4">At the end of the performance;</p> +<p class="i4">Whom the Abbot had distinguished</p> +<p class="i4">Most that evening by his praises;</p> +<p class="i4">And what finally was served up</p> +<p class="i4">From the kitchen and the cellar.</p> +<p class="i4">As the tail of a dead lizard</p> +<p class="i4">Still, when life has long departed,</p> +<p class="i4">With spasmodic jerks is writhing:</p> +<p class="i4">So the memory of great actions</p> +<p class="i4">Still lives on in daily gossip.</p> +<p class="i4">But with thoughts above such nonsense</p> +<p class="i4">Margaretta took an early</p> +<p class="i4">Solitary walk next morning</p> +<p class="i4">To the honeysuckle arbour,</p> +<p class="i4">There to dream of last night's music,</p> +<p class="i4">Specially of Werner's solo,</p> +<p class="i4">Which still through her soul was thrilling</p> +<p class="i4">Like a message of sweet love.</p> +<p class="i4">But what saw she? In the arbour</p> +<p class="i4">On the little rustic table</p> +<p class="i4">She beheld the very trumpet.</p> +<p class="i4">Like the magic horn of Huon,</p> +<p class="i4">Wondrous mysteries containing;</p> +<p class="i4">Dumb, but full of deep expression,</p> +<p class="i4">Like a star it sparkled there.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Margaretta stood confounded</p> +<p class="i4">At the arbour's shady entrance:</p> +<p class="i4">"Came he here? And now, where is he?</p> +<p class="i4">Wherefore has he left his trumpet</p> +<p class="i4">Here so wholly unprotected?</p> +<p class="i4">Easily a worm might crawl in,</p> +<p class="i4">Or a thief might come and steal it.</p> +<p class="i4">Shall I take it to the castle,</p> +<p class="i4">Take it in my careful keeping?</p> +<p class="i4">No, I'll go, do nothing with it,</p> +<p class="i4">Should indeed have gone before."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">But she tarried, for her eyes were</p> +<p class="i4">Held in durance by the trumpet,</p> +<p class="i4">Like a shad caught by the fish-hook.</p> +<p class="i4">"Oh, I wonder," she was thinking,</p> +<p class="i4">"Whether my breath would be able</p> +<p class="i4">From its depths a tone to waken.</p> +<p class="i4">Oh I much should like to know this!</p> +<p class="i4">No one sees what I am doing,</p> +<p class="i4">All around no living being.</p> +<p class="i4">Only my old Hiddigeigei</p> +<p class="i4">Licks the dew from off the box-tree;</p> +<p class="i4">Only insects in the sand here</p> +<p class="i4">Follow out their digging instinct,</p> +<p class="i4">And the caterpillars gently</p> +<p class="i4">Up and down the arbour crawl."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">So the maiden shyly entered,</p> +<p class="i4">Shyly she took up the trumpet,</p> +<p class="i4">To her rosy lips she pressed it;</p> +<p class="i4">But with fright she well-nigh trembled</p> +<p class="i4">At her breath to sound transforming</p> +<p class="i4">In the trumpet's golden calyx.</p> +<p class="i4">Which the air was bearing farther,</p> +<p class="i4">Farther--ah, who knoweth where?</p> +<p class="i4">But she cannot stop the fun now,</p> +<p class="i4">And with sounds discordant, horrid,</p> +<p class="i4">Fit to rend the ears to pieces,</p> +<p class="i4">So disturbed the morning stillness,</p> +<p class="i4">That the poor cat Hiddigeigei's</p> +<p class="i4">Long black hair stood up like bristles,</p> +<p class="i4">Like the sharp quills of a hedgehog.</p> +<p class="i4">Raising then his paw to cover</p> +<p class="i4">His offended ear, he spoke thus:</p> +<p class="i4">"Suffer on, my valiant cat-heart,</p> +<p class="i4">Which so much has borne already,</p> +<p class="i4">Also bear this maiden's music!</p> +<p class="i4">We, we understand the laws well,</p> +<p class="i4">Which do regulate and govern</p> +<p class="i4">Sound, enigma of creation.</p> +<p class="i4">And we know the charm mysterious</p> +<p class="i4">Which invisibly through space floats,</p> +<p class="i4">And, intangible a phantom,</p> +<p class="i4">Penetrates our hearing organs,</p> +<p class="i4">And in beasts' as well as men's hearts</p> +<p class="i4">Wakes up love, delight and longing,</p> +<p class="i4">Raving madness and wild frenzy.</p> +<p class="i4">And yet, we must bear this insult,</p> +<p class="i4">That when nightly in sweet mewing</p> +<p class="i4">We our love-pangs are outpouring,</p> +<p class="i4">Men will only laugh and mock us,</p> +<p class="i4">And our finest compositions</p> +<p class="i4">Rudely brand as caterwauling.</p> +<p class="i4">And in spite of this we witness</p> +<p class="i4">That these same fault-finding beings</p> +<p class="i4">Can produce such horrid sounds as</p> +<p class="i4">Those which I have just now heard.</p> +<p class="i4">Are such tones not like a nosegay</p> +<p class="i4">Made of straw, and thorns, and nettles,</p> +<p class="i4">In the midst a prickly thistle?</p> +<p class="i4">And in presence of this maiden</p> +<p class="i4">Who the trumpet there is blowing,</p> +<p class="i4">Can a man then without blushing</p> +<p class="i4">E'er sneer at our caterwauling?</p> +<p class="i4">But, thou valiant heart, be patient!</p> +<p class="i4">Suffer now, the time will yet come</p> +<p class="i4">When this self-sufficient monster,</p> +<p class="i4">Man, will steal from us the true art</p> +<p class="i4">Of expressing all his feelings;</p> +<p class="i4">When the whole world in its struggle</p> +<p class="i4">For the highest form of culture</p> +<p class="i4">Will adopt our style of music.</p> +<p class="i4">For in history, there is justice.</p> +<p class="i4">She redresses every wrong."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">But besides old Hiddigeigei,</p> +<p class="i4">Standing far down by the river</p> +<p class="i4">There was still another listener</p> +<p class="i4">To these first attempts at blowing,</p> +<p class="i4">Who felt anger more than pleasure.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">It was Werner. He came early</p> +<p class="i4">With his trumpet to the garden,</p> +<p class="i4">Wanted to compose a song there</p> +<p class="i4">In that quiet morning-hour.</p> +<p class="i4">First, however, his dear trumpet</p> +<p class="i4">He laid on the rustic table.</p> +<p class="i4">Then stood musing by the stone-wall</p> +<p class="i4">Gazing at the rapid river.</p> +<p class="i4">"Yes, I see, your waves preserve still</p> +<p class="i4">Their old course and disposition,</p> +<p class="i4">Ever toward the ocean rushing,</p> +<p class="i4">As my heart for my love striveth.</p> +<p class="i4">Who now from the goal is farthest,</p> +<p class="i4">Clear green river, thou or I?"</p> +<p class="i4">All this train of thought was broken</p> +<p class="i4">By the stork from the old tower,</p> +<p class="i4">Who, full of a father's pride, had</p> +<p class="i4">Taken his young brood to ramble</p> +<p class="i4">On the Rhine-shore for the first time.</p> +<p class="i4">'Twas amusing to young Werner</p> +<p class="i4">How just then the old stork gravely,</p> +<p class="i4">On the sand with stealthy cunning,</p> +<p class="i4">Closely a poor eel was watching,</p> +<p class="i4">Who of various worms was making</p> +<p class="i4">There a comfortable meal.</p> +<p class="i4">He, however, who was wielding</p> +<p class="i4">O'er the little worms the strand-law,</p> +<p class="i4">Soon himself will serve as breakfast.</p> +<p class="i4">For the greater eats the lesser,</p> +<p class="i4">And the greatest eats the great ones.</p> +<p class="i4">In this simple manner nature</p> +<p class="i4">Solves the knotty social question.</p> +<p class="i4">No more did his smoothness help him,</p> +<p class="i4">No more his sleek body's wriggling,</p> +<p class="i4">No more his spasmodic beating</p> +<p class="i4">With his tail so strong and supple.</p> +<p class="i4">Tightly held in the indented</p> +<p class="i4">Beak of the determined parent,</p> +<p class="i4">He was given to the hopeful</p> +<p class="i4">Stork-brood, now to be divided;</p> +<p class="i4">And they held with noisy clatter</p> +<p class="i4">Solemnly their morning-feast.</p> +<p class="i4">Nearer to observe this, Werner</p> +<p class="i4">Had descended to the Rhine-bank,</p> +<p class="i4">And he seemed in no great hurry</p> +<p class="i4">To commence his composition.</p> +<p class="i4">There he sat himself down gently</p> +<p class="i4">On the insect-covered moss-bank.</p> +<p class="i4">Shaded by a silvery willow,</p> +<p class="i4">And it gave him much amusement</p> +<p class="i4">Thus to be a silent witness</p> +<p class="i4">Of this banquet of the storks.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Pleasures, yet, of all descriptions</p> +<p class="i4">Are but fleeting on our planet.</p> +<p class="i4">Even to the most contented</p> +<p class="i4">Doth it happen that fate often</p> +<p class="i4">Like a meteor bursts upon them.</p> +<p class="i4">Only a short time had Werner</p> +<p class="i4">Viewed this scene when he was startled</p> +<p class="i4">By the tones of his own trumpet,</p> +<p class="i4">Which like keen-edged Pandour daggers</p> +<p class="i4">Deep into his soul were cutting.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"'Tis the gardener's saucy youngster</p> +<p class="i4">Who my trumpet thus is blowing,"</p> +<p class="i4">Said young Werner, in his anger</p> +<p class="i4">Starting from his seat so quickly</p> +<p class="i4">That the storks thereby much frightened,</p> +<p class="i4">Fluttering upward sought the tower;</p> +<p class="i4">And so quickly that they even</p> +<p class="i4">Had no time to take the eel off.</p> +<p class="i4">Like a poor old torso lay he</p> +<p class="i4">On the sand so pitifully;</p> +<p class="i4">And the chronicles are silent</p> +<p class="i4">Whether the old father stork came</p> +<p class="i4">Ever back to take his booty.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Werner meanwhile to the garden</p> +<p class="i4">Climbed up; to the shady arbour</p> +<p class="i4">On the soft green sward he's walking,</p> +<p class="i4">That the pebbly footpath may not</p> +<p class="i4">By the noise betray his coming.</p> +<p class="i4">In the very act of sinning</p> +<p class="i4">Doth he wish to catch the rascal,</p> +<p class="i4">And to beat time to his music</p> +<p class="i4">On his back without relenting.</p> +<p class="i4">Thus he comes up to the arbour,</p> +<p class="i4">With his hand raised high in anger.</p> +<p class="i4">But, as if 'twere struck by lightning,</p> +<p class="i4">To his side it dropped down quickly,</p> +<p class="i4">And the stroke remained, like German</p> +<p class="i4">Unity and other projects,</p> +<p class="i4">Only an ideal dream.</p> +<p class="i4">Then beheld he Margaretta</p> +<p class="i4">Pressing to her lips the trumpet,</p> +<p class="i4">And her rosy cheeks are puffed out</p> +<p class="i4">Like those trumpet-blowing angels'</p> +<p class="i4">In the church of Fridolinus.</p> +<p class="i4">Up she starts now as a thief would</p> +<p class="i4">In the neighbour's yard detected,</p> +<p class="i4">And the trumpet drops abruptly</p> +<p class="i4">From the touch of her soft lips.</p> +<p class="i4">Werner covered her confusion</p> +<p class="i4">Through a clever maze of language;</p> +<p class="i4">And with ardour he commences</p> +<p class="i4">On the spot to teach the maiden</p> +<p class="i4">The first steps in trumpet-blowing</p> +<p class="i4">In strict order, with due method;</p> +<p class="i4">Shows the instrument's construction,</p> +<p class="i4">How to use the lips in blowing,</p> +<p class="i4">That true tones may be forthcoming.</p> +<p class="i4">Margaretta listened docile.</p> +<p class="i4">And before she is aware, new</p> +<p class="i4">Tones she finds she is awaking</p> +<p class="i4">From the trumpet which young Werner</p> +<p class="i4">With low bows had handed to her.</p> +<p class="i4">Easily from him she learneth</p> +<p class="i4">What her father's cuirassiers blew</p> +<p class="i4">As the call to charge in battle;</p> +<p class="i4">Only a few notes and simple,</p> +<p class="i4">But most pithy and inspiring.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Love is, there can be no question,</p> +<p class="i4">Of all teachers the most skilful;</p> +<p class="i4">And what years of earnest study</p> +<p class="i4">Do not conquer, he is winning</p> +<p class="i4">With the charm of an entreaty,</p> +<p class="i4">With the magic of a look.</p> +<p class="i4"><a name="div1Ref_pg151" href="#div1_pg151">E'en a common +Flemish blacksmith</a></p> +<p class="i4">Once became through love's sweet passion</p> +<p class="i4">In advanced age a great painter.</p> +<p class="i4">Happy teacher, happy scholar,</p> +<p class="i4">In the honeysuckle arbour!</p> +<p class="i4">'Twas as if the only safety</p> +<p class="i4">Of the German empire rested</p> +<p class="i4">On this trumpet-call's performance.</p> +<p class="i4">But within their souls was stirring</p> +<p class="i4">Quite a different melody:</p> +<p class="i4">That sweet song, old as creation,</p> +<p class="i4">Of the bliss of youthful lovers;</p> +<p class="i4">True, a song without the words yet,</p> +<p class="i4">But they had divined its meaning,</p> +<p class="i4">And beneath a playful manner</p> +<p class="i4">Hid the blissful consciousness,</p> +<p class="i4">Startled by this trumpet-blowing</p> +<p class="i4">Came the Baron reconnoitring,</p> +<p class="i4">Tried to frown, but soon his anger</p> +<p class="i4">Was converted into pleasure,</p> +<p class="i4">When he heard his child there blowing</p> +<p class="i4">The old fanfar of his horsemen.</p> +<p class="i4">Friendly spoke he to young Werner:</p> +<p class="i4">"You are truly in your office</p> +<p class="i4">A most ardent zeal unfolding.</p> +<p class="i4">If you go on in this manner,</p> +<p class="i4">We shall see most wondrous things yet.</p> +<p class="i4">The old stable-door which harshly</p> +<p class="i4">Creaks and groans upon its hinges,</p> +<p class="i4">Even in the pond the bull-frogs</p> +<p class="i4">May perhaps change for the better,</p> +<p class="i4">Through your trumpet's magic charm."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Werner held, however, henceforth</p> +<p class="i4">His dear trumpet as a jewel,</p> +<p class="i4">Which the richest Basel merchant,</p> +<p class="i4">With the fullest bag of money,</p> +<p class="i4">Could not ever purchase from him;</p> +<p class="i4">For the lips of Margaretta</p> +<p class="i4">Made it sacred by their touch.<p> +</div></div> +<br> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_pt10" href="#div1Ref_pt10">TENTH PART.</a></h2> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<h3>YOUNG WERNER IN <a name="div1Ref_pg152" href="#div1_pg152">THE GNOME'S CAVE</a>.</h3> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">From the Feldberg tears a raging</p> +<p class="i4">Foaming torrent through the forests</p> +<p class="i4">To the Rhine--its name is Wehra.</p> +<p class="i4">In the narrow valley standeth</p> +<p class="i4">'Midst the rocks a single fir-tree;</p> +<p class="i4">In the branches sat the haggard</p> +<p class="i4">Wicked wood-sprite Meysenhartus,</p> +<p class="i4">Who to-day behaved quite badly:</p> +<p class="i4">Showing his sharp teeth and grinning,</p> +<p class="i4">Tore a branch off from the fir-tree,</p> +<p class="i4">And kept gnawing at a pine-cone;</p> +<p class="i4">Clambered often quite indignant</p> +<p class="i4">Up and down just like a squirrel;</p> +<p class="i4">From the wings of a poor night-owl</p> +<p class="i4">Roughly plucked out several feathers;</p> +<p class="i4">And while mocking the old fir-tree</p> +<p class="i4">Rocked himself upon its summit.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"High old fir-tree, green old fir-tree!</p> +<p class="i4">I with thee would ne'er my lot change.</p> +<p class="i4">Firmly rooted must thou stand there,</p> +<p class="i4">And take everything that happens;</p> +<p class="i4">Never canst thou quit thy station.</p> +<p class="i4">And if ever Fate ordaineth.</p> +<p class="i4">Thou to far-off lands shalt wander,</p> +<p class="i4">Men have first to come with axes;</p> +<p class="i4">With hard strokes they hack and cut thee,</p> +<p class="i4">Deep into thy flesh, till falling;</p> +<p class="i4">And then strip unmercifully</p> +<p class="i4">All thy skin from off thy body;</p> +<p class="i4">Throw thee next into the Rhine, and</p> +<p class="i4">Make thee swim as far as Holland.</p> +<p class="i4">And if e'er they pay the honour</p> +<p class="i4">On a frigate to erect thee</p> +<p class="i4">As a proud and stately mast, still</p> +<p class="i4">Thou art but a smooth-skinned fir-tree,</p> +<p class="i4">Without roots there lonely standing;</p> +<p class="i4">And thou yearnest on the ocean</p> +<p class="i4">For thy old home in the forest,</p> +<p class="i4">Till at last a flash of lightning</p> +<p class="i4">Mast and ship and all destroyeth.</p> +<p class="i4">High old fir-tree, green old fir-tree!</p> +<p class="i4">I with thee would ne'er my lot change!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Said the fir-tree: "Everybody</p> +<p class="i4">Must accept the sphere he's born in,</p> +<p class="i4">And fulfil his duties fully.</p> +<p class="i4">So we think here in the forest;</p> +<p class="i4">And 'tis well so, at least better</p> +<p class="i4">Than to hop will-o'-the-wisp like,</p> +<p class="i4">Playing pranks and doing mischief,</p> +<p class="i4">Men and cattle oft misleading,</p> +<p class="i4">And the stupid wanderer's curses</p> +<p class="i4">As reward home with thee taking.</p> +<p class="i4">Anyhow, no one cares for thee.</p> +<p class="i4">For, at best, a peasant sayeth,</p> +<p class="i4">Devil take this Meysenhartus!</p> +<p class="i4">But they're others who write volumes</p> +<p class="i4">Proving thou hast no existence;</p> +<p class="i4">That to lose one's way at night-time</p> +<p class="i4">Comes from fogs and drunken frolics.</p> +<p class="i4">Oh the spirit-shares stand badly!</p> +<p class="i4">On the highway I would rather</p> +<p class="i4">As a paving-stone be lying,</p> +<p class="i4">Than to be a third-class spirit,</p> +<p class="i4">Like the wood-sprite Meysenhartus."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Said the spirit: "Thou knowest nothing</p> +<p class="i4">Of all this, my noble fir-tree.</p> +<p class="i4">Meysenhartus and his brothers</p> +<p class="i4">O'er the globe rule powerfully;</p> +<p class="i4">Everywhere throughout creation</p> +<p class="i4">Are wrong tracks, and also people</p> +<p class="i4">Who upon these same paths wander.</p> +<p class="i4">And whenever, gay or mournful,</p> +<p class="i4">Someone goes upon a wrong track,</p> +<p class="i4">He has been by us deluded.</p> +<p class="i4">Let them doubt if there are spirits;</p> +<p class="i4">Still they are in our dominion.</p> +<p class="i4">And to-day you'll see me leading</p> +<p class="i4">Someone far astray to show him</p> +<p class="i4">That the spirits are in numbers."</p> + +<p class="i6">From the hill came Master Werner.</p> +<p class="i4">Deeply musing o'er his love-dream</p> +<p class="i4">He had wandered through the forest,</p> +<p class="i4">And as far as man is happy</p> +<p class="i4">Here below, he was; and buoyant</p> +<p class="i4">Hope and joy his heart were filling.</p> +<p class="i4">Many burning thoughts were passing</p> +<p class="i4">Through his brain, as if they shortly</p> +<p class="i4">Into love-songs might be growing,</p> +<p class="i4">Just as caterpillars later</p> +<p class="i4">Into butterflies develop.</p> +<p class="i4">Homeward now he would be turning;</p> +<p class="i4">But the wood-sprite Meysenhartus</p> +<p class="i4">Hid with dust the right path from him,</p> +<p class="i4">And young Werner, absent-minded,</p> +<p class="i4">'Stead of river-ward went inland.</p> +<p class="i4">Now again the wood-sprite grinning</p> +<p class="i4">Clambered to the fir-tree's summit,</p> +<p class="i4">Rocking gaily in the branches.</p> +<p class="i4">"He is caught!" so said he, mocking.</p> +<p class="i4">Werner paying no attention,</p> +<p class="i4">Went up through the Hasel valley,</p> +<p class="i4">Till he came to a steep mountain,</p> +<p class="i4">To a corner cool and shady.</p> +<p class="i4">Holly, sloe, and climbing ivy</p> +<p class="i4">Grew around the rocks luxuriant,</p> +<p class="i4">While near by a clear spring rippled.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Through the bushes stepped young Werner</p> +<p class="i4">To refresh himself by drinking.</p> +<p class="i4">Strongly tangled was the brushwood,</p> +<p class="i4">And upon it he trod firmly.</p> +<p class="i4">Then upon his ear broke squeaking</p> +<p class="i4">Wailing tones, as from a mole which</p> +<p class="i4">At his subterranean labour</p> +<p class="i4">Caught in traps and now detected,</p> +<p class="i4">Roughly is jerked up to daylight.</p> +<p class="i4">From the grass rose something crackling;</p> +<p class="i4">Lo, there stood a gray-clad pygmy,</p> +<p class="i4">Hardly three feet high, and hunchbacked;</p> +<p class="i4">But his face was clear and gentle,</p> +<p class="i4">And his odd small eyes looked clever.</p> +<p class="i4">Gracefully he let the long ends</p> +<p class="i4">Of his garment on the ground trail,</p> +<p class="i4">And said, limping: "Sir, you have been</p> +<p class="i4">Treading on my foot most rudely."</p> +<p class="i4">Said young Werner: "I am sorry."</p> +<p class="i4">Now the pygmy: "And what business</p> +<p class="i4">Have you in our vale at all?"</p> +<p class="i4">Said young Werner: "I by no means</p> +<p class="i4">Wish to seek for the acquaintance</p> +<p class="i4">Of such injudicious pygmies,</p> +<p class="i4">Who like grasshoppers are skipping,</p> +<p class="i4">And are asking silly questions."</p> +<p class="i4">Said the pygmy: "Thus ye all speak,</p> +<p class="i4">All ye rude and clumsy mortals;</p> +<p class="i4">Ever with your big feet tramping</p> +<p class="i4">Till the ground beneath you trembles.</p> +<p class="i4">And yet you are only clinging</p> +<p class="i4">To the surface like the chafers</p> +<p class="i4">Which are nestling in the tree-bark;</p> +<p class="i4">Thinking that you rule creation,</p> +<p class="i4">But entirely ignoring</p> +<p class="i4">All those spirits which, though silent,</p> +<p class="i4">On the heights, in depths, are working.</p> +<p class="i4">Oh ye rude and clumsy mortals!</p> +<p class="i4">Shut up proudly in your houses,</p> +<p class="i4">You are groaning with hard labour.</p> +<p class="i4">In the hot-house of your noddles</p> +<p class="i4">Are some plants called art and science,</p> +<p class="i4">And you even brag of such weeds.</p> +<p class="i4">By the lime-spar and rock-crystal!</p> +<p class="i4">You have much to learn, I tell you,</p> +<p class="i4">Ere the truth you will see dawning!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Said young Werner: "It is lucky</p> +<p class="i4">That to-day I feel so peaceful,</p> +<p class="i4">Else I should have taken pleasure</p> +<p class="i4">By your long gray beard to hang you</p> +<p class="i4">On the holly bushes yonder!</p> +<p class="i4">But my heart to-day is glowing</p> +<p class="i4">With the sunshine of my love-dreams,</p> +<p class="i4">Which you with your spars and crystals</p> +<p class="i4">Never can be comprehending.</p> +<p class="i4">Oh, to-day I could embrace all,</p> +<p class="i4">And be kind to everybody.</p> +<p class="i4">Say then who you are, and whether</p> +<p class="i4">I can be of any service."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Then the dwarf said: "This sounds better.</p> +<p class="i4">To your questions I will answer.</p> +<p class="i4">To the race of gnomes belong I,</p> +<p class="i4">Who in crevices are living;</p> +<p class="i4">Down in subterranean caverns,</p> +<p class="i4">Watch there gold and silver treasures,</p> +<p class="i4">Grind and polish bright the crystals,</p> +<p class="i4">Carry coals to the eternal</p> +<p class="i4">Fire in the earth's deep centre;</p> +<p class="i4">And we heat there well. Without us</p> +<p class="i4">You here would have long since frozen.</p> +<p class="i4">From Vesuvius and Mount Etna</p> +<p class="i4">You can see our furnace smoking.</p> +<p class="i4">E'en for you ungrateful mortals,</p> +<p class="i4">Though unseen, we're ever working;</p> +<p class="i4">And sweet lullabies are singing</p> +<p class="i4">In the mountains to your rivers,</p> +<p class="i4">That no harm they may be doing;</p> +<p class="i4">Keep the crumbling rocks from falling,</p> +<p class="i4">Chain the ice up in the glaciers;</p> +<p class="i4">Boil for you the pungent rock-salt,</p> +<p class="i4">Also mix much healing matter</p> +<p class="i4">With the springs from which you're drinking.</p> +<p class="i4">Never ceasing, and enormous</p> +<p class="i4">Is the gray gnomes' daily labour</p> +<p class="i4">In the bowels of the earth.</p> +<p class="i4">Formerly they used to know us;</p> +<p class="i4">Wise and clever men and women,</p> +<p class="i4">Grave old priests descended to us</p> +<p class="i4">In the depths, where to our labour</p> +<p class="i4">They oft listened, and they spoke thus:</p> +<p class="i4">"In the caves the gods are dwelling."</p> +<p class="i4">But you have become estranged since;</p> +<p class="i4">Still, we willingly will open</p> +<p class="i4">To your gaze our hidden treasures;</p> +<p class="i4">And we hold in great affection</p> +<p class="i4">All the travelling German scholars;</p> +<p class="i4">For their hearts are kind and generous,</p> +<p class="i4">And they see much more than others.</p> +<p class="i4">You seem also one, so follow!</p> +<p class="i4">Here my cave is, in this valley;</p> +<p class="i4">If you can but stoop a little,</p> +<p class="i4">I will show you where to enter."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Said young Werner: "I am ready."</p> +<p class="i4">Thereupon the little pygmy</p> +<p class="i4">From the rock pushed back some brushwood,</p> +<p class="i4">When appeared a small low passage.</p> +<p class="i4">"Light is needed here for mortals,"</p> +<p class="i4">Said the gnome, who now was rubbing</p> +<p class="i4">Two hard flints, and soon had lighted</p> +<p class="i4">By the sparks a piece of pine-wood.</p> +<p class="i4">With this torch he went ahead then;</p> +<p class="i4">Werner followed, often stooping,</p> +<p class="i4">Often even well-nigh creeping,</p> +<p class="i4">For the rocks were nearly meeting.</p> +<p class="i4">Soon, however, widely opened</p> +<p class="i4">At the passage end a cavern</p> +<p class="i4">Of gigantic height and grandeur.</p> +<p class="i4">Slender columns there supported</p> +<p class="i4">Lofty arches of the ceiling;</p> +<p class="i4">From the walls the gray stalactites</p> +<p class="i4">Hung in various patterns twining,</p> +<p class="i4">Marvellous, yet graceful textures;</p> +<p class="i4">Some like tears which from the walls dropped,</p> +<p class="i4">Others like the richly twisted</p> +<p class="i4">Branches of gigantic corals.</p> +<p class="i4">An unearthly bluish colour</p> +<p class="i4">All throughout the space was glowing,</p> +<p class="i4">Mingled with the glaring torch-light</p> +<p class="i4">From the sharp-edged stones reflected.</p> +<p class="i4">From the depths a rushing sound rose</p> +<p class="i4">As from distant mountain-streams.</p> +<p class="i4">Werner gazed at all this splendour,</p> +<p class="i4">Felt as in a dream transported</p> +<p class="i4">To some strange and lofty temple,</p> +<p class="i4">And his heart was filled with awe.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"My young friend," now said the pygmy,</p> +<p class="i4">"Tell me, pray, what are you thinking</p> +<p class="i4">Of the gnome's secluded dwelling?</p> +<p class="i4">This is but a place for work-days.</p> +<p class="i4">Fairer ones far in the North lie,</p> +<p class="i4">Also in the Alpine caverns;</p> +<p class="i4">But Italia owns the fairest,</p> +<p class="i4">On the rocky shore of Capri,</p> +<p class="i4">In the Mediterranean Sea.</p> +<p class="i4">O'er the sea's blue waters rise up</p> +<p class="i4">The stalactites' lofty arches,</p> +<p class="i4">And the waves in the dark cavern</p> +<p class="i4">With blue magic light are gleaming,</p> +<p class="i4">And the tide protects the entrance.</p> +<p class="i4">The Italian gnomes there often</p> +<p class="i4">Bathe and frolic with the daughters</p> +<p class="i4">Of old Nereus, the sea-god,</p> +<p class="i4">And the sailor shuns the grotto.</p> +<p class="i4">But perhaps in later ages</p> +<p class="i4">May a sunday-child look in there,</p> +<p class="i4">Like thyself a travelling minstrel,</p> +<p class="i4">Or a merry-hearted artist.</p> +<p class="i4">But now, come, we must go farther!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Downward stepped he with the torch-light</p> +<p class="i4">Ever farther, Werner saw how</p> +<p class="i4">Huge chaotic rocky masses</p> +<p class="i4">Lay in heaps of wild confusion,</p> +<p class="i4">Over which was rushing foaming,</p> +<p class="i4">To the bottomless abyss, a river.</p> +<p class="i4">Over steep and high rocks clambering,</p> +<p class="i4">They now entered a new passage.</p> +<p class="i4">It looked home-like, a large square-room,</p> +<p class="i4">Of high rocky walls constructed,</p> +<p class="i4">Fitted for a hermitage;</p> +<p class="i4">Round about stood slender columns.</p> +<p class="i4">Ever dropping from the ceiling</p> +<p class="i4">And through centuries increasing</p> +<p class="i4">Had stalactites slowly formed them;</p> +<p class="i4">And some others stood half finished</p> +<p class="i4">In the process of formation.</p> +<p class="i4">Now the gnome knocked on the columns,</p> +<p class="i4">And mysterious solemn tones rang</p> +<p class="i4">Out in deep harmonious rhythm.</p> +<p class="i4">"They are tuned," he said, "according</p> +<p class="i4">To the harmony of the spheres."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">In this room a rock was lying.</p> +<p class="i4">Smooth and round, just like a table;</p> +<p class="i4">And there motionless and silent</p> +<p class="i4">Sat a man--looked as if sleeping,</p> +<p class="i4">Leaned his head upon his right hand.</p> +<p class="i4">Stony were his lordly features,</p> +<p class="i4">And the flame of life no longer</p> +<p class="i4">Played o'er them; and doubtless many</p> +<p class="i4">Tears had his sad eyes been shedding.</p> +<p class="i4">Petrified they now were hanging</p> +<p class="i4">In his beard and from his robes.</p> +<p class="i4">Werner gazed at him with terror</p> +<p class="i4">And he asked: "Is this a statue,</p> +<p class="i4">Or a man of flesh and blood?"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Said the gnome: "This is my guest here,</p> +<p class="i4">'Tis the <i>silent man</i>, whom many</p> +<p class="i4">Years I've comfortably sheltered.</p> +<p class="i4">Once he was a proud old mortal,</p> +<p class="i4">And I found him in the valley,</p> +<p class="i4">And I offered then to show him</p> +<p class="i4">Where to find the nearest village.</p> +<p class="i4">But he shook his head and broke out</p> +<p class="i4">In a mocking scornful laughter.</p> +<p class="i4">Marvellously grand his words were,</p> +<p class="i4">Now like prayers devout and pious,</p> +<p class="i4">Like a psalm, such as we gnomes sing</p> +<p class="i4">Often in the earth's vast bowels;</p> +<p class="i4">Then like curses unto heaven.</p> +<p class="i4">Much I could not understand.</p> +<p class="i4">But it woke the recollections</p> +<p class="i4">Of the days of time primeval,</p> +<p class="i4">When the wild ferocious Titans</p> +<p class="i4">Rocks and mountains tore up o'er us</p> +<p class="i4">From their firm and deep foundations,</p> +<p class="i4">And we fled to greater depths.</p> +<p class="i4">For the man I felt great pity,</p> +<p class="i4">And I took him to my cavern;</p> +<p class="i4">And he liked it, when I showed him</p> +<p class="i4">All the gnomes' incessant labours;</p> +<p class="i4">And directly felt at home here.</p> +<p class="i4">Oft together have we listened</p> +<p class="i4">To the growing of stalactites,</p> +<p class="i4">Chatted also many evenings</p> +<p class="i4">Of the things below us hidden;</p> +<p class="i4">Only when my conversation</p> +<p class="i4">Turned to men, he grew quite angry;</p> +<p class="i4">Dark his frowns were, and he broke once</p> +<p class="i4">Seven columns in his fury.</p> +<p class="i4">When I wished to praise the sunlight</p> +<p class="i4">And the skies, he stopped me, saying:</p> +<p class="i4">'Speak not of the sky or sunlight!</p> +<p class="i4">In the sunlight there above us</p> +<p class="i4">Snakes are creeping, and they sting one;</p> +<p class="i4">Men are living and they hate one;</p> +<p class="i4">Up there in the starry heavens</p> +<p class="i4">We see questions which are waiting</p> +<p class="i4">For an answer; who can give it?'</p> +<p class="i4">So he stayed here in the cavern,</p> +<p class="i4">And the grief which overwhelmed him</p> +<p class="i4">Was dissolved in tender sadness.</p> +<p class="i4">Oft I saw him gently weeping;</p> +<p class="i4">Oft, when a melodious wailing</p> +<p class="i4">Through the columns' hollow shafts rang,</p> +<p class="i4">He sat there, his sweet songs singing.</p> +<p class="i4">But he gradually grew silent.</p> +<p class="i4">Did I ask him what he wanted,</p> +<p class="i4">Then he smiling took my hand:</p> +<p class="i4">'Gnome, I many songs can sing thee,</p> +<p class="i4">But the best I have not sung yet.</p> +<p class="i4">Will you know its name? 'Tis silence.</p> +<p class="i4">Silence--silence! oh how well one</p> +<p class="i4">Learns it here in thy deep cavern;</p> +<p class="i4">Depth creates true modesty.</p> +<p class="i4">But the cold is o'er me creeping;</p> +<p class="i4">Gnome! 'tis true, my poor heart freezes.</p> +<p class="i4">Gnome! dost thou know what true love is?</p> +<p class="i4">If for diamonds thou art digging,</p> +<p class="i4">And dost find them, take them with thee,</p> +<p class="i4">Guard them safely in thy cavern.</p> +<p class="i4">Gnome, thy heart will never freeze then!'<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"These the last words he has spoken.</p> +<p class="i4">Now for years he has been silent</p> +<p class="i4">In this spot. He has not died yet</p> +<p class="i4">Nor is living, but his body</p> +<p class="i4">Slowly into stone is changing;</p> +<p class="i4">And I nurse him; heartfelt pity</p> +<p class="i4">For my silent guest I cherish,</p> +<p class="i4">Often try to cheer his spirit</p> +<p class="i4">With the columns' solemn music,</p> +<p class="i4">And I know it pleases him.</p> +<p class="i4">Without taking any freedom,</p> +<p class="i4">I think you too are a minstrel;</p> +<p class="i4">And the service you can do me</p> +<p class="i4">Is to play before my guest here."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Then young Werner took his trumpet</p> +<p class="i4">And began to play; his mournful</p> +<p class="i4">Strains were ringing through the cavern</p> +<p class="i4">As if breathing forth deep pity.</p> +<p class="i4">Then in thinking of his own love,</p> +<p class="i4">Through the sadness now there mingled</p> +<p class="i4">Strains of joy--first faint and distant,</p> +<p class="i4">Then came nearer--fresher, fuller,</p> +<p class="i4">And the last notes sounded like a</p> +<p class="i4">Glorious hymn on Easter morning.</p> +<p class="i4">And the silent man then listened,</p> +<p class="i4">Nodded gently with his head.</p> +<p class="i4">Fare-thee-well, dream on in peace, thou</p> +<p class="i4">Silent man, in thy still cavern,</p> +<p class="i4">Till the fulness comes of knowledge</p> +<p class="i4">And of love, to wake the sleeper.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Through the winding cave young Werner</p> +<p class="i4">With the gnome was now returning.</p> +<p class="i4">As the spacious dome they entered</p> +<p class="i4">A great rock the gnome uplifted.</p> +<p class="i4">Underneath a shrine was hidden,</p> +<p class="i4">And within were sparkling jewels,</p> +<p class="i4">Also writings and old parchments.</p> +<p class="i4">One pale amethyst, and papers</p> +<p class="i4">Which by age had turned quite yellow,</p> +<p class="i4">Gave the gnome now to young Werner,</p> +<p class="i4">Saying: "Take these as mementoes!</p> +<p class="i4">If the world above doth vex thee,</p> +<p class="i4">Here thou e'er wilt find a refuge.</p> +<p class="i4">But when wicked men are saying</p> +<p class="i4">That gnomes' feet are webbed like geese-feet,</p> +<p class="i4">Then, by lime-spar and rock-crystal!</p> +<p class="i4">Say that they are dreadful liars.</p> +<p class="i4">True, our soles are somewhat flattened;</p> +<p class="i4">But 'tis only a rude peasant</p> +<p class="i4">Who so cruelly maligns us.</p> +<p class="i4">Now good-bye, there is the outlet;</p> +<p class="i4">Take the pine-torch, light thyself now,</p> +<p class="i4">I have other things to do."--</p> +<p class="i4">Spoke and crept into a crevice.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Musing through the narrow passage</p> +<p class="i4">Went young Werner, and his head struck</p> +<p class="i4">Oft against the rocky ceiling</p> +<p class="i4">Ere he reached again the daylight.</p> +<p class="i4">Peacefully the evening-bell rang</p> +<p class="i4">Through the vale as he went homeward.<p> +</div></div> +<br> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_pt11" href="#div1Ref_pt11">ELEVENTH PART.</a></h2> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<h3>THE HAUENSTEIN RIOT.</h3> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Through the Schwarzwald spreads a buzzing.</p> +<p class="i4">Buzzing as of bees when swarming,</p> +<p class="i4">As of the approaching storm-wind.</p> +<p class="i4">In the tavern savage fellows</p> +<p class="i4">Meet: their heavy fists are striking</p> +<p class="i4">On the table: "Bring me wine here!</p> +<p class="i4">Better times are now approaching</p> +<p class="i4">For this land of <a name="div1Ref_pg169" href="#div1_pg169"> +Hauenstein</a>."</p> +<p class="i4">From the corn-loft brings the peasant</p> +<p class="i4">His old-fashioned rusty musket,</p> +<p class="i4">Which below the floor was hidden;</p> +<p class="i4">Fetches also the long halberd.</p> +<p class="i4">On the walnut-tree the raven</p> +<p class="i4">Harshly croaks: "Long have I fasted;</p> +<p class="i4">Soon I'll have meat for my dinner,</p> +<p class="i4">I shall relish thee, poor peasant!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Now the people from the mountains.</p> +<p class="i4">Throng at Herrischried the market;</p> +<p class="i4">There the seat is of their union,</p> +<p class="i4">There they hold their union-meeting.</p> +<p class="i4">But to-day the Hauenstein peasants</p> +<p class="i4">Came not in black velvet doublets,</p> +<p class="i4">With red stomachers and white frills,</p> +<p class="i4">As was usually their custom.</p> +<p class="i4">Some had buckled on cuirasses,</p> +<p class="i4">Others wore their leather doublets;</p> +<p class="i4">In the breeze the flag was waving,</p> +<p class="i4">And the morning sun was shining</p> +<p class="i4">On their spears and thick spiked clubs.</p> +<p class="i4">Near the old church in the market</p> +<p class="i4">Stood the village elders, with the</p> +<p class="i4">Union-leader and mace-bearer.</p> +<p class="i4">"Silence, men!" the beadle shouted.</p> +<p class="i4">Silence reigned, and on the church-steps</p> +<p class="i4">Mounted then the peasants' speaker,</p> +<p class="i4">Holding an official paper,</p> +<p class="i4">Stroked his long gray beard, and said:<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Inasmuch as the hard war-time</p> +<p class="i4">Has much injured town and country,</p> +<p class="i4">And the debt is much augmented;</p> +<p class="i4">So to meet increased expenses</p> +<p class="i4">Our most gracious rulers hereby</p> +<p class="i4">Do exact new contributions;</p> +<p class="i4">Seven florins from each household,</p> +<p class="i4">And from all the bachelors two.</p> +<p class="i4">And next week the tax-collector</p> +<p class="i4">Comes to gather these new taxes.</p> +<p class="i4">So 'tis written in this paper."</p> +<p class="i4">--"Death upon the tax-collector!</p> +<p class="i4">May God damn him!" cried the people.--</p> +<p class="i4">"Now as we ourselves have suffered</p> +<p class="i4">Quite enough by this sad war, and</p> +<p class="i4">Many lost their goods and chattels;</p> +<p class="i4">And because 'tis pledged in writing</p> +<p class="i4">As one of our privileges,</p> +<p class="i4">That there shall be no new taxes</p> +<p class="i4">E'er imposed upon this country,</p> +<p class="i4">Many this demand consider</p> +<p class="i4">As a most unjust extortion,</p> +<p class="i4">Think we should stand up most firmly</p> +<p class="i4">For our ancient rights by charter,</p> +<p class="i4">And should never pay a farthing."</p> +<p class="i4">--"Not a farthing!" cried the people.--</p> +<p class="i4">"So we summoned you together</p> +<p class="i4">For your final resolution."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Like the distant surf their voices</p> +<p class="i4">Loudly roared in wild confusion:</p> +<p class="i4">"Come! stand up! speak out! We must now</p> +<p class="i4">Hear the Bergalingen Fridli.</p> +<p class="i4">He knows best--and all we others</p> +<p class="i4">Always are of his opinion."</p> +<p class="i4">Then stepped out the man thus called for,</p> +<p class="i4">And upon a big log mounting,</p> +<p class="i4">Spoke thus with a shrewd expression:<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Do you see at last, dull peasants,</p> +<p class="i4">What the end will be? Your fathers</p> +<p class="i4">Once gave up their little finger;</p> +<p class="i4">Now they want to seize the whole hand.</p> +<p class="i4">Only give it, and you'll soon see,</p> +<p class="i4">How they'll flay your very skin off!</p> +<p class="i4">Who can really thus compel us?</p> +<p class="i4">In his woods free lives the peasant,</p> +<p class="i4">Nothing but the sun above him.</p> +<p class="i4">So it stands in our old records,</p> +<p class="i4">In the statutes of our union:</p> +<p class="i4">Nothing there of rent and socage,</p> +<p class="i4">Nothing of a bondman's service!</p> +<p class="i4">But there's danger we shall have them.</p> +<p class="i4">Do you know what will protect us?</p> +<p class="i4">Yonder there the Swiss can tell you,</p> +<p class="i4">And the valiant Appenzellers.</p> +<p class="i4">This here!"--and he brandished fiercely</p> +<p class="i4">O'er his head his thick spiked club.--</p> +<p class="i4">"On the fir-tree I heard piping</p> +<p class="i4">Lately a white bird at midnight:</p> +<p class="i4">Good old time, that bygone time,</p> +<p class="i4">Peasants, freemen in their forests;</p> +<p class="i4">If with spears and guns you seek it,</p> +<p class="i4">You will see it soon returning.</p> +<p class="i4">Now, Amen! my speech is ended."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Then wild cries rose from the people-</p> +<p class="i4">"He is right" were many saying;</p> +<p class="i4">"To the devil with our rulers!</p> +<p class="i4">Burn these damned taxation-papers!</p> +<p class="i4">All these scribblers may look out soon</p> +<p class="i4">If this flame can be extinguished</p> +<p class="i4">With the fluid in their inkstands."</p> +<p class="i4">Said another: "Thou, oh governor,</p> +<p class="i4">Didst consign me to a dungeon;</p> +<p class="i4">Poor my fare, with only water!</p> +<p class="i4">Thou hast wine within thy cellar,</p> +<p class="i4">And I hope we now shall try it.</p> +<p class="i4">Yes, with thee I'll square accounts soon!"</p> +<p class="i4">Said a third one: "Thee my musket,</p> +<p class="i4">Which has brought down many woodcocks,</p> +<p class="i4">I shall use for nobler sport soon.</p> +<p class="i4">Then hit well! For we'll be shooting</p> +<p class="i4">At the great black double eagle."</p> +<p class="i4">Thus a murmur through the crowd went.</p> +<p class="i4">Just as when the plague is raging,</p> +<p class="i4">Everywhere infection spreadeth,</p> +<p class="i4">So were all the peasants' hearts now</p> +<p class="i4">Filled with passion and blind wrath.</p> +<p class="i4">And in vain spoke the experienced</p> +<p class="i4">Villaringen elder, Balthes:<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"If a horse's tail is bridled,</p> +<p class="i4">Not his mouth, no one can drive him.</p> +<p class="i4">If the peasant seeks for justice</p> +<p class="i4">By revolt, all will go badly;</p> +<p class="i4">In the end he gets a thrashing.</p> +<p class="i4">Hence of old we were commanded</p> +<p class="i4">To obey the ruling powers,</p> +<p class="i4">And--" but now in voluntary</p> +<p class="i4">Was he stopped in his sage counsels:</p> +<p class="i4">"Turn him out, this old fool Balthes!</p> +<p class="i4">May God damn him! He is faithless;</p> +<p class="i4">He's a traitor to his country!"</p> +<p class="i4">Thus they howled out, stones were flying,</p> +<p class="i4">Spears were threatening, and his friends could</p> +<p class="i4">Hardly get him off in safety.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"To be short, what use of speaking?"</p> +<p class="i4">Fridli said, of Bergalingen.</p> +<p class="i4">"Who are faithful to our old rights</p> +<p class="i4">And will go for them to battle,</p> +<p class="i4">Raise their hands high!" And they raised them</p> +<p class="i4">All, while loud hurrahs they shouted.</p> +<p class="i4">Arms are clanking, flags are waving,</p> +<p class="i4">Battle-cries--the drums are beating.</p> +<p class="i4">And that day large bands were marching</p> +<p class="i4">From the hills toward the river</p> +<p class="i4">To attack the forest-cities.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">In the forest from the fir-tree</p> +<p class="i4">Looked the wood-sprite Meysenhartus,</p> +<p class="i4">Mocking at the peasants' army,</p> +<p class="i4">Said: "A lucky journey to you!</p> +<p class="i4">No need I should now mislead you,</p> +<p class="i4">As you choose yourselves the wrong track!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Scouts are riding, watchmen blowing,</p> +<p class="i4">Women wailing, children crying;</p> +<p class="i4">Through the vale rings the alarm-bell.</p> +<p class="i4">Burghers through the streets are running:</p> +<p class="i4">"Close the gates! Defend the town-walls!</p> +<p class="i4">Bring the guns up to the tower!"</p> +<p class="i4">From the terrace saw the Baron</p> +<p class="i4">This commotion in the forest,</p> +<p class="i4">How the mountain-paths were darkened</p> +<p class="i4">By the peasant-bands descending.</p> +<p class="i4">"Am I dreaming," said he, "or have</p> +<p class="i4">All these men indeed forgotten,</p> +<p class="i4">How a hundred and fifty years since</p> +<p class="i4">Such mad peasants' jokes were punished?</p> +<p class="i4">Yes, indeed, the forest glitters</p> +<p class="i4">With their helmets and their halberds.</p> +<p class="i4">Well devised, you cunning peasants!</p> +<p class="i4">While below there on the Danube</p> +<p class="i4">The proud eagle of the emperor</p> +<p class="i4">Lets the Turks feel his sharp talons,</p> +<p class="i4">You think that it will be easy,</p> +<p class="i4">On the Rhine to pluck his feathers!</p> +<p class="i4">Look out well that this your reckoning</p> +<p class="i4">Won't deceive you; and I swear here,</p> +<p class="i4">The old Baron will not fail to</p> +<p class="i4">Greet you with a warm reception."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Turned and went into the castle,</p> +<p class="i4">And he donned his leathern doublet,</p> +<p class="i4">Buckled on the heavy broadsword,</p> +<p class="i4">And gave orders to the household:</p> +<p class="i4">"Quickly get your weapons ready,</p> +<p class="i4">Keep good watch upon the towers,</p> +<p class="i4">Raise the drawbridge, and let no one,</p> +<p class="i4">While I am away, here enter!</p> +<p class="i4">Master Werner, you may order</p> +<p class="i4">All the rest. Protect my castle,</p> +<p class="i4">And my daughter, my chief treasure!</p> +<p class="i4">Have no fear, dear Margaretta;</p> +<p class="i4">Brave must be a soldier's child.</p> +<p class="i4">Only some few coal-black ravens</p> +<p class="i4">Come there flying from the forest,</p> +<p class="i4">Want to get their skulls well battered</p> +<p class="i4">'Gainst the walls of this good city.</p> +<p class="i4">God preserve you! I myself go</p> +<p class="i4">To my post, up to the town-hall."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Margaretta threw herself now</p> +<p class="i4">In the Baron's arms, who kindly</p> +<p class="i4">Pressed upon her brow fond kisses.</p> +<p class="i4">Shaking Werner's hand then warmly</p> +<p class="i4">He walked off unto the square.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">There the ladies of the convent</p> +<p class="i4">Wailing went up to the minster:</p> +<p class="i4">"Show us mercy, Fridolinus!"</p> +<p class="i4">By his door the "Button" landlord</p> +<p class="i4">Asked the Baron: "Is it time now,</p> +<p class="i4">That we put our gold and silver</p> +<p class="i4">In the cellar's deepest places?"</p> +<p class="i4">Said the Baron: "Shame upon you!</p> +<p class="i4">It is time to take your weapons</p> +<p class="i4">And to help defend the city.</p> +<p class="i4">Show the same zeal as when fishing!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">In the town-hall were assembled</p> +<p class="i4">Councillors and burgomaster.</p> +<p class="i4">Many of the city-fathers</p> +<p class="i4">Made wry faces, as though fearing</p> +<p class="i4">The last judgment-day was coming.</p> +<p class="i4">On their hearts their sins were pressing</p> +<p class="i4">Like a hundredweight; they cried out:</p> +<p class="i4">"Save us, God, from this great evil,</p> +<p class="i4">And we'll promise all our lifetime</p> +<p class="i4">Ne'er to take unlawful interest,</p> +<p class="i4">Never to defraud the orphan,</p> +<p class="i4">Ne'er to mix sand with our spices."</p> +<p class="i4">Even one proposed this motion:</p> +<p class="i4">"Let us send out to these peasants</p> +<p class="i4">Meat and wine in great abundance,</p> +<p class="i4">Also of doubloons some dozens,</p> +<p class="i4">That from hence they may depart;</p> +<p class="i4">They in Waldshut may look out then,</p> +<p class="i4">How they drive away these fellows."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Now the Baron came among them:</p> +<p class="i4">"My good sirs! I do believe you</p> +<p class="i4">Hang your heads. To work now bravely!</p> +<p class="i4">When the Swedes the town beleagured,</p> +<p class="i4">Then 'twas grave, but this is only</p> +<p class="i4">Child's play. Surely you have always</p> +<p class="i4">Liked to hear and make good music;</p> +<p class="i4">So the booming guns will please you.</p> +<p class="i4">Let the orchestra strike up now!</p> +<p class="i4">And these fellows, when they hear you,</p> +<p class="i4">Homeward soon will all go dancing,</p> +<p class="i4">E'er the emperor's own detachment</p> +<p class="i4">Plays for them the grand finale."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Thus he spoke. In times of terror</p> +<p class="i4">Oft a brave word at the right time</p> +<p class="i4">Can work wonders; many cowards</p> +<p class="i4">From example drink in courage;</p> +<p class="i4">And one single iron will leads</p> +<p class="i4">Oft along the wavering masses.</p> +<p class="i4">Thus the council looked up strengthened</p> +<p class="i4">To the Baron's gray moustaches.</p> +<p class="i4">"Yes, this is just our opinion,</p> +<p class="i4">We'll defend our city bravely,</p> +<p class="i4">And the Baron shall command us;</p> +<p class="i4">For he knows well how to do it.</p> +<p class="i4">Death to all these cursed peasants!"</p> +<p class="i4">Through the streets th' alarm is sounded</p> +<p class="i4">To the town-gate, where a narrow</p> +<p class="i4">Dam leads on to terra firma,</p> +<p class="i4">Ran well armed the younger people.</p> +<p class="i4">On the bastion stood commanding</p> +<p class="i4">Fludribus, the fresco-painter,</p> +<p class="i4">Who had there assembled round him</p> +<p class="i4">Some young lads who with great effort</p> +<p class="i4">An old gun were hauling up there.</p> +<p class="i4">Smiling looked at them the Baron,</p> +<p class="i4">But great Fludribus said gravely:</p> +<p class="i4">"Devotees of art can boast of</p> +<p class="i4">Stores of universal knowledge.</p> +<p class="i4">Let them have a chance, and they will</p> +<p class="i4">Rule the state as well as armies.</p> +<p class="i4">My keen eye sees well there's danger</p> +<p class="i4">In this spot; and as Cellini</p> +<p class="i4">From the Castle of St Angelo</p> +<p class="i4">Shot the constable of France once.</p> +<p class="i4">So--alas at foes inferior--</p> +<p class="i4">Cannonades here Fludribus."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Only do not kill them all off!"</p> +<p class="i4">Said the Baron; "and be sure first</p> +<p class="i4">To get balls enough and powder;</p> +<p class="i4">For, the gun you there are dragging</p> +<p class="i4">Will not be of use without them!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">To the Rhine-bank came the peasants</p> +<p class="i4">In great crowds, and looked up growling</p> +<p class="i4">At the high walls of the city</p> +<p class="i4">And the well-closed city-gate.</p> +<p class="i4">"In his den the fox is hiding,</p> +<p class="i4">He has barred his hole most firmly,</p> +<p class="i4">But the peasants will unearth him,"</p> +<p class="i4">Fridli said, of Bergalingen.</p> +<p class="i4">"Forward! I will be your leader!"</p> +<p class="i4">Drums were beating the assault now,</p> +<p class="i4">Heavy muskets cracking loudly;</p> +<p class="i4">Through the powder-smoke ran shouting</p> +<p class="i4">All these hordes against the town-gate.</p> +<p class="i4">On the walls to best advantage</p> +<p class="i4">Had the Baron placed his forces;</p> +<p class="i4">And was tranquilly then looking</p> +<p class="i4">At the crowd of wild assaulters.</p> +<p class="i4">"'Tis to be regretted," thought he,</p> +<p class="i4">"That such strength is idly wasted.</p> +<p class="i4">Out of these strong country lubbers</p> +<p class="i4">One might form a splendid regiment."</p> +<p class="i4">His command is heard: "Now fire!"</p> +<p class="i4">The assaulters then were welcomed</p> +<p class="i4">With a well-aimed thundering volley,</p> +<p class="i4">And they fled in all directions;</p> +<p class="i4">Like a swarm of crows dispersing,</p> +<p class="i4">When the hail-shot flies among them.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">And not few of them had fallen.</p> +<p class="i4">'Neath an apple-tree was lying</p> +<p class="i4">By the shore one who spoke feebly</p> +<p class="i4">To a comrade passing by him:</p> +<p class="i4">"Greet from me my poor old mother,</p> +<p class="i4">Also my Verena Frommherz.</p> +<p class="i4">Say, she can with a good conscience</p> +<p class="i4">Marry the tall Uickerhans now.</p> +<p class="i4">For, poor Seppli here is staining</p> +<p class="i4">The white sand with his true heart's blood!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Whilst this happened by the town-gate,</p> +<p class="i4">Some were trying if the city</p> +<p class="i4">Could be entered by a back-way.</p> +<p class="i4">On the Rhine below were lying</p> +<p class="i4">Fishing-boats beside a cabin,</p> +<p class="i4">Where in traps they caught the salmon.</p> +<p class="i4">There another crowd streamed onward.</p> +<p class="i4">An audacious lad from Karsau</p> +<p class="i4">Led them; for, he knew each byway</p> +<p class="i4">Near the river, and had often</p> +<p class="i4">Many fish at night-time stolen</p> +<p class="i4">From the nets of other people.</p> +<p class="i4">In three fishing-boats, well manned, thence</p> +<p class="i4">Were they rowing up the river.</p> +<p class="i4">Willow-trees and heavy brushwood,</p> +<p class="i4">And a bend there in the river</p> +<p class="i4">Saved them from discovery.</p> +<p class="i4">Where the garden of the castle</p> +<p class="i4">On arched walls is far projecting</p> +<p class="i4">O'er the Rhine, they stopped their barges,</p> +<p class="i4">And quite easy was the landing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">On the roof of the pavilion</p> +<p class="i4">Which once Fludribus had painted</p> +<p class="i4">Sat the black cat Hiddigeigei.</p> +<p class="i4">With surprise the worthy cat saw</p> +<p class="i4">Spear-heads far below him glistening;</p> +<p class="i4">Saw a man, too, upward climbing</p> +<p class="i4">On the stone wall, tightly holding</p> +<p class="i4">With his teeth a shining sabre;</p> +<p class="i4">And how others followed after.</p> +<p class="i4">Growling said then Hiddigeigei:</p> +<p class="i4">"Best for a wise cat it would be</p> +<p class="i4">Ever to remain quite neutral</p> +<p class="i4">To man's foolish acts of daring;</p> +<p class="i4">But I hate these boorish peasants,</p> +<p class="i4">Hate the smell of cows and stables.</p> +<p class="i4">If they triumph, woe to Europe;</p> +<p class="i4">For, it would destroy completely</p> +<p class="i4">The fine atmosphere of culture.</p> +<p class="i4">Now look out below, you fellows!</p> +<p class="i4">Since the geese by cries of warning</p> +<p class="i4">Saved the Capitol of Rome once,</p> +<p class="i4">Animals are taking interest</p> +<p class="i4">In the history of the world."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Up he sprang in furious anger,</p> +<p class="i4">Curved his back, his hair all bristling,</p> +<p class="i4">And commenced a caterwauling</p> +<p class="i4">Fit to take away one's hearing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">On the jutting turret standing.</p> +<p class="i4">Faithful Anton heard this wauling,</p> +<p class="i4">And involuntarily looking</p> +<p class="i4">Toward that way: "Good heaven!" said he,</p> +<p class="i4">"In the garden is the enemy."</p> +<p class="i4">Quick his signal-shot brought other</p> +<p class="i4">Men-at-arms, along with Werner,</p> +<p class="i4">Who placed quickly his few fighters:</p> +<p class="i4">"Stand thou here--thou there--don't hurry</p> +<p class="i4">With your fire!" His heart beat wildly:</p> +<p class="i4">"Ha, my sword, maintain thy valour!"</p> +<p class="i4">Shallow was the castle's moat then,</p> +<p class="i4">Well-nigh dry, and 'mid the rushes</p> +<p class="i4">Glisten many swords and spear-heads.</p> +<p class="i4">Daring men are climbing upward</p> +<p class="i4">O'er the tower's crumbling stone-work.</p> +<p class="i4">Muskets cracking, arrows flying.</p> +<p class="i4">Axe-strokes 'gainst the gate are ringing,</p> +<p class="i4">Everywhere attack, and shouting:</p> +<p class="i4">"Castle thou wilt soon be taken!"</p> +<p class="i4">And between, the fall of bodies</p> +<p class="i4">In the moat is heard--much blood flows.</p> +<p class="i4">By the gate cries out young Werner:</p> +<p class="i4">"Well done, Anton! Now take aim at</p> +<p class="i4">That dark fellow on thy left hand;</p> +<p class="i4">I'll attend unto the other.</p> +<p class="i4">Steady now! They are retreating!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Thus the first attack proved fruitless,</p> +<p class="i4">And with bloody heads drew back now</p> +<p class="i4">The assaulters, seeking shelter,</p> +<p class="i4">'Midst the chestnut-trees' dense thicket.</p> +<p class="i4">Scornful words now reach the castle:</p> +<p class="i4">"Coward knights, faint-hearted servants,</p> +<p class="i4">Keep behind the walls, protected.</p> +<p class="i4">Just come out to honest combat</p> +<p class="i4">If you've courage." "Death and Devil!"</p> +<p class="i4">Werner shouted. "Let the bridge down!</p> +<p class="i4">Spears at rest! Now onward!--Mock us?</p> +<p class="i4">In the Rhine with these damned scoundrels!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Down the bridge fell rattling loudly;</p> +<p class="i4">Far ahead went Werner rushing,</p> +<p class="i4">Right into the crowd; ran over</p> +<p class="i4">Just the fellow who did guide them.</p> +<p class="i4">"When the sword gets dull, thou rascal,</p> +<p class="i4">With my fist alone I'll kill thee."</p> +<p class="i4">In the crowd he sees a sturdy</p> +<p class="i4">Soldier, with a weather-beaten</p> +<p class="i4">Face, bold and defiant-looking.</p> +<p class="i4">He had served with Wallenstein once,</p> +<p class="i4">And now fought for these mean peasants</p> +<p class="i4">From mere love of strife and bloodshed.</p> +<p class="i4">"Taste my steel now, gray old warrior,"</p> +<p class="i4">Cried young Werner, as his sword swung</p> +<p class="i4">Whizzing through the air to strike him.</p> +<p class="i4">But the soldier's halberd parried</p> +<p class="i4">Werner's stroke: "Not badly done, lad!</p> +<p class="i4">Here my answer!" Blood was dripping</p> +<p class="i4">From young Werner's locks; his forehead</p> +<p class="i4">Showed a deep wound from the halberd.</p> +<p class="i4">But the one who swung it, never</p> +<p class="i4">Gave a second stroke; his own throat,</p> +<p class="i4">Where by armour not protected,</p> +<p class="i4">Being cut by Werner's weapon.</p> +<p class="i4">Three steps backward then he staggered</p> +<p class="i4">Sinking: "Devil, stir thy fire!</p> +<p class="i4">Hast me now!" Dead lay the soldier.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Werner, thy young life guard well now!</p> +<p class="i4">Raging were the peasants, thronging</p> +<p class="i4">In great crowds around this handful.</p> +<p class="i4">'Gainst a chestnut-tree now leaning</p> +<p class="i4">Weak, but still his life defending,</p> +<p class="i4">Stood young Werner; round him rallied,</p> +<p class="i4">Brave and faithful, all the servants.</p> +<p class="i4">Save him, God! The wound is bleeding,</p> +<p class="i4">From his hand the sword falls slowly,</p> +<p class="i4">Dimmed his eyes are, and the enemy</p> +<p class="i4">At his gory breast is aiming.</p> +<p class="i4">Then--all may go well yet--</p> +<p class="i4">From the castle rings distinctly,</p> +<p class="i4">As if for a charge, the trumpet;</p> +<p class="i4">Then a shot--one falls; a volley</p> +<p class="i4">Follows. "Onward!" so the Baron</p> +<p class="i4">Now commands, and wildly flying</p> +<p class="i4">Tear the peasants to the Rhine.</p> +<p class="i4">Cheer up, Werner, friends are coming,</p> +<p class="i4">And with them comes Margaretta!</p> +<p class="i4">When the fight below was raging,</p> +<p class="i4">To the terrace she ascended,</p> +<p class="i4">And she blew--herself not knowing</p> +<p class="i4">Why she did it--in the anguish</p> +<p class="i4">Of her soul, the battle signal</p> +<p class="i4">Used in the Imperial army.</p> +<p class="i4">Which she'd learned in happy moments</p> +<p class="i4">In the honeysuckle-arbour.</p> +<p class="i4">It was heard by those returning</p> +<p class="i4">With the Baron from the town-gate;</p> +<p class="i4">And the maiden's war-cry made them</p> +<p class="i4">Hurry quickly to the rescue</p> +<p class="i4">Of those fighting in the garden.</p> +<p class="i4">Woman's heart, so gentle, timid,</p> +<p class="i4">What gave thee such courage then?<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"God, he lives!" she bent now softly</p> +<p class="i4">Over him who 'neath the chestnuts</p> +<p class="i4">There on the green sward was lying,</p> +<p class="i4">Stroked the fair locks, lank and bloody,</p> +<p class="i4">From his brow: "Hast fought right bravely!"</p> +<p class="i4">Half unconscious gazed young Werner;</p> +<p class="i4">Did he then behold a vision?</p> +<p class="i4">Closed his eyes, and on two muskets</p> +<p class="i4">To the castle he was borne.<p> +</div></div> +<br> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_pt12" href="#div1Ref_pt12">TWELFTH PART.</a></h2> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<h3>YOUNG WERNER AND MARGARETTA.</h3> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">In the castle's chapel dimly</p> +<p class="i4">Was a flickering lamp-light burning,</p> +<p class="i4">Shining on the altar-picture,</p> +<p class="i4">Whence the Queen of Heaven looked down</p> +<p class="i4">With a gracious pitying smile,</p> +<p class="i4">'Neath the picture hung fresh gathered</p> +<p class="i4">Roses and geranium-garlands.</p> +<p class="i4">Kneeling there prayed Margaretta:</p> +<p class="i6">"Sorely tried one, full of mercy!</p> +<p class="i4">Thou who givest us protection,</p> +<p class="i4">Care for him who badly wounded</p> +<p class="i4">Lies now on a bed of anguish;</p> +<p class="i4">And bestow on me forgiveness</p> +<p class="i4">If thou thinkst it very sinful</p> +<p class="i4">That he fills my thoughts alone."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Hope and trust their light were shedding</p> +<p class="i4">In her heart as thus she prayed.</p> +<p class="i4">And more cheerful Margaretta</p> +<p class="i4">Now ascended up the staircase.</p> +<p class="i4">On the threshold of the sick-room</p> +<p class="i4">Was the gray old doctor standing,</p> +<p class="i4">And he beckoned her to come there.</p> +<p class="i4">Judging what most likely would be</p> +<p class="i4">The first question she would ask him,</p> +<p class="i4">He then said with voice half muffled:</p> +<p class="i4">"Fear no more, my gracious lady;</p> +<p class="i4">Fresh young blood and youthful vigour</p> +<p class="i4">From such wounds not long can suffer,</p> +<p class="i4">And already gentle slumber,</p> +<p class="i4">Messenger of health, doth soothe him.</p> +<p class="i4">He to-day can take an airing."</p> +<p class="i4">Spoke and left; for, his attention</p> +<p class="i4">Many wounded men were craving,</p> +<p class="i4">And he hated useless gossip.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Softly entered Margaretta</p> +<p class="i4">Now the sick-room of young Werner,</p> +<p class="i4">Bashful and yet curious whether</p> +<p class="i4">All was true the doctor told her.</p> +<p class="i4">Gently slumbering lay young Werner,</p> +<p class="i4">Pale in youthful beauty, looking</p> +<p class="i4">Like a statue. As if dreaming,</p> +<p class="i4">He lay holding, o'er his forehead</p> +<p class="i4">And his healing wound, his right hand,</p> +<p class="i4">As one who from glaring sunlight</p> +<p class="i4">Wishes to protect his eyes;</p> +<p class="i4">Round his lips a smile was playing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Long on him gazed Margaretta--</p> +<p class="i4">Long and longer. Thus in old times</p> +<p class="i4">In the forest of Mount Ida</p> +<p class="i4">Gazed the goddess, fair Diana,</p> +<p class="i4">On Endymion the sleeper.</p> +<p class="i4">Pity held her eye a captive;</p> +<p class="i4">Ah, and pity is a fruitful</p> +<p class="i4">Soil for love's sweet plant to grow in.</p> +<p class="i4">From a tiny seed 'tis spreading</p> +<p class="i4">In this ground so rich and fertile,</p> +<p class="i4">Which it permeates completely</p> +<p class="i4">With its thousand fibrous rootlets.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Thrice already Margaretta</p> +<p class="i4">To the door her way had wended,</p> +<p class="i4">But as many times returning</p> +<p class="i4">She at last approached the bedside.</p> +<p class="i4">On the table stood a cooling</p> +<p class="i4">Potion, medicines in bottles;</p> +<p class="i4">But she neither touched the cooling</p> +<p class="i4">Potion nor the other bottles.</p> +<p class="i4">Timidly she bent there o'er him,</p> +<p class="i4">Timidly and hardly breathing,</p> +<p class="i4">Lest her breath might wake the sleeper.</p> +<p class="i4">Long she gazed at his closed eyelids</p> +<p class="i4">And involuntarily stooping,</p> +<p class="i4">With her lips--But who interprets</p> +<p class="i4">All the strange mysterious actions</p> +<p class="i4">Of a first sweet loving passion?</p> +<p class="i4">Well-nigh can my song conjecture</p> +<p class="i4">That she really wished to kiss him;</p> +<p class="i4">But she did not; startled sighing,</p> +<p class="i4">Turned abruptly--like a timid</p> +<p class="i4">Fawn she hurried from the chamber.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Like a man who, long accustomed</p> +<p class="i4">To the gloom and damp of dungeons,</p> +<p class="i4">Seems bewildered when beholding,</p> +<p class="i4">For the first time free fair Nature:</p> +<p class="i4">"Hast thou not, O sun, grown brighter?</p> +<p class="i4">Has the sky not deeper colours?"</p> +<p class="i4">And his eyes are nearly dazzled</p> +<p class="i4">By the light so long denied him:</p> +<p class="i4">Thus returns the convalescent</p> +<p class="i4">Once again to life and vigour.</p> +<p class="i4">Fresher, warmer, rosier visions</p> +<p class="i4">Rise before his raptured glances,</p> +<p class="i4">Which he greets with fond rejoicing.</p> +<p class="i4">"World, how fair thou art!" was also</p> +<p class="i4">Dropping from the lips of Werner,</p> +<p class="i4">As on the broad steps he slowly</p> +<p class="i4">Now descended to the garden.</p> +<p class="i4">Leaning on his staff, he stood long</p> +<p class="i4">Quiet, basking in the sunbeams</p> +<p class="i4">Playing o'er the fragrant flowers,</p> +<p class="i4">Drew a long breath, and then slowly</p> +<p class="i4">Stepped upon the garden-terrace.</p> +<p class="i4">On the stone-seat in the sunshine</p> +<p class="i4">He sat down now. Bees were humming,</p> +<p class="i4">Butterflies were lightly flying</p> +<p class="i4">'Mid the verdant chestnut-branches,</p> +<p class="i4">Out and in, like tavern-goers.</p> +<p class="i4">Green, pellucid, gently rushing,</p> +<p class="i4">Bore the Rhine its waters onward;</p> +<p class="i4">And a pine-raft filled with people,</p> +<p class="i4">Snake-like, swiftly sped toward Basel.</p> +<p class="i4">Near the shore, up to his knees stood</p> +<p class="i4">In the river there a fisher,</p> +<p class="i4">Singing gently to himself thus:<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Peasant comes with spears and muskets,</p> +<p class="i4">Peasant storms the forest-city,</p> +<p class="i4">Peasant will now fight with Austria:</p> +<p class="i4">Peasant! you will find that will</p> +<p class="i4">Make much heavier the bill;</p> +<p class="i4">Take your purse and pay the joke!</p> +<p class="i4">Seven florins seemed too much then,</p> +<p class="i4">One-and-twenty must thou pay now.</p> +<p class="i4">Soldiers quartered are dear guests too;</p> +<p class="i4">Then the plaisters from the surgeons:</p> +<p class="i4">Peasant! you will find that will</p> +<p class="i4">Make much heavier the bill;</p> +<p class="i4">Take your purse and pay the joke!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Gaily gazed young Werner o'er the</p> +<p class="i4">Lovely landscape and the river;</p> +<p class="i4">But he stopped his contemplations.</p> +<p class="i4">On the wall with sunlight flooded</p> +<p class="i4">He beheld a shadow gliding,</p> +<p class="i4">As of curls and flowing garments--</p> +<p class="i4">Well did Werner know this shadow.</p> +<p class="i4">Through the shrubbery came smiling</p> +<p class="i4">Margaretta; she was watching</p> +<p class="i4">Hiddigeigei's graceful gambols,</p> +<p class="i4">Who then in the garden-arbour</p> +<p class="i4">With a wee white mouse was playing.</p> +<p class="i4">With his velvet paws he held it</p> +<p class="i4">Tight, and like a gracious sovereign</p> +<p class="i4">Looked down on his trembling captive.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">From his seat rose up young Werner</p> +<p class="i4">Bowing lowly and with reverence.</p> +<p class="i4">Over Margaretta's cheeks spread</p> +<p class="i4">Ever-changing rosy blushes.</p> +<p class="i4">"Master Werner, may God bless you,</p> +<p class="i4">And how are you? You were silent</p> +<p class="i4">Such a long time, so with pleasure</p> +<p class="i4">Shall I hear your voice once more."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Since my forehead made acquaintance</p> +<p class="i4">Lately with the enemy's halberd,</p> +<p class="i4">Hardly knew I," answered Werner,</p> +<p class="i4">"Where my life and thoughts had flown to.</p> +<p class="i4">O'er me lay thick clouds of darkness;</p> +<p class="i4">But to-day in dreams an angel</p> +<p class="i4">To my side descended, saying:</p> +<p class="i4">Thou art well, arise, be happy</p> +<p class="i4">That thou hast thy health recovered</p> +<p class="i4">And it was so. With a firm step</p> +<p class="i4">Thus far have I come already."</p> +<p class="i4">Now again fair Margaretta's</p> +<p class="i4">Cheeks were like the blush of morning.</p> +<p class="i4">When the dream young Werner mentioned,</p> +<p class="i4">Bashfully she turned her head; then</p> +<p class="i4">Playfully she interrupted:</p> +<p class="i4">"I suppose you are now looking</p> +<p class="i4">At the battle-field; indeed it</p> +<p class="i4">Proved a hot day, and I fancy</p> +<p class="i4">Still I hear the roar of battle:</p> +<p class="i4">Do you still recall, you stood there</p> +<p class="i4">By yon tree, and there a dead man</p> +<p class="i4">Lay beneath those blooming elders?</p> +<p class="i4">Where the gossamer so lightly</p> +<p class="i4">Through the air in threads is flying,</p> +<p class="i4">Spears and halberds then were glittering.</p> +<p class="i4">There, where still you see the traces</p> +<p class="i4">Of fresh plaster on the stone-wall,</p> +<p class="i4">Broke those peasants through when flying.</p> +<p class="i4">And, my good sir, over yonder</p> +<p class="i4">Then my father loudly scolded,</p> +<p class="i4">That a certain person headlong</p> +<p class="i4">Had into such danger plunged."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Death and--but forgive, my lady.</p> +<p class="i4">That well-nigh I swore," said Werner.</p> +<p class="i4">"They were mocking us; and others,</p> +<p class="i4">If they please, may keep their temper.</p> +<p class="i4">When I hear such stinging speeches,</p> +<p class="i4">Then my heart burns, my fist clenches:</p> +<p class="i4">Fight! no other means I know of;</p> +<p class="i4">Fight I must, e'en should the whole world</p> +<p class="i4">Go to atoms with a crash.</p> +<p class="i4">Through my veins there flows no fish-blood;</p> +<p class="i4">And to-day, though somewhat feeble,</p> +<p class="i4">In the same case, I should stand there</p> +<p class="i4">By the chestnut-tree again."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Wicked man," said Margaretta,</p> +<p class="i4">"That a fresh stroke from a halberd</p> +<p class="i4">Should be crossing your old scar, and</p> +<p class="i4">That--but do you know who suffered</p> +<p class="i4">Keenly for your daring conduct?</p> +<p class="i4">Do you know whose tears were flowing?</p> +<p class="i4">Would you once more give the order:</p> +<p class="i4">Lower drawbridge! if I begged you:</p> +<p class="i4">Werner stay and do remember</p> +<p class="i4">The poor suffering Margaretta?</p> +<p class="i4">If I--," but she was not able</p> +<p class="i4">Further to spin out her sentence.</p> +<p class="i4">What the mouth spoke not, the eyes said;</p> +<p class="i4">What the eyes said not, the heart did.</p> +<p class="i4">Dreamily young Werner lifted</p> +<p class="i4">Unto her his raptured gaze:</p> +<p class="i4">"Am I dying, or is doubly</p> +<p class="i4">My young life to me now given?"</p> +<p class="i4">In each other's arms they flew then,</p> +<p class="i4">Sought each other's lips with ardour,</p> +<p class="i4">And transported, pressed upon them</p> +<p class="i4">Love's first kiss, so sweet and blissful.</p> +<p class="i4">Golden-purple streamed the sunlight</p> +<p class="i4">Through the shady trees' high summits,</p> +<p class="i4">Down upon two happy beings--</p> +<p class="i4">On young Werner's pallid features,</p> +<p class="i4">On the lovely blushing maiden.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Love's first kiss so sweet and blissful!</p> +<p class="i4">Thinking of thee, joy and sorrow</p> +<p class="i4">Both steal o'er me; joy, that also</p> +<p class="i4">I have once thy nectar tasted,</p> +<p class="i4">Sorrow, that but once we taste it!</p> +<p class="i4">For thy sake I wished to cull from</p> +<p class="i4">Language, all the fairest flowers,</p> +<p class="i4">For a wreath unto thine honour;</p> +<p class="i4">But, instead of words rose visions</p> +<p class="i4">Clear before me, and they led me</p> +<p class="i4">Far to float o'er time and space.</p> +<p class="i4">First I soared to Eden's garden,</p> +<p class="i4">When the new-born world was lying</p> +<p class="i4">In its pristine youthful freshness,</p> +<p class="i4">When its age by days was reckoned.</p> +<p class="i4">Evening came, a rosy light spread</p> +<p class="i4">O'er the sky, while in the river's</p> +<p class="i4">Waves the sun to rest sank slowly;</p> +<p class="i4">On the shore, in merry frolic,</p> +<p class="i4">Graceful animals were playing.</p> +<p class="i4">Through the shady paths 'neath palm-trees</p> +<p class="i4">The first human couple walked.</p> +<p class="i4">Wide through space they gazed in silence,</p> +<p class="i4">'Mid the holy peace of evening;</p> +<p class="i4">In each other's eyes they looked then,</p> +<p class="i4">And their lips did meet.</p> +<p class="i4">Then I saw before me rising.</p> +<p class="i4">Visions of quite different aspect;</p> +<p class="i4">Dark the sky, rain-storm and lightning,</p> +<p class="i4">Mountains bursting, from the dark depths</p> +<p class="i4">Foaming waters rushing upward.</p> +<p class="i4">Flooded over is the ancient</p> +<p class="i4">Mother Earth, and she is dying.</p> +<p class="i4">To the cliffs the waves are rolling,</p> +<p class="i4">To the old man and his consort,</p> +<p class="i4">To the two last living mortals.</p> +<p class="i4">Now a flash--I saw them smiling,</p> +<p class="i4">Then embracing, without speaking,</p> +<p class="i4">Ever kissing. Night then--roaring,</p> +<p class="i4">Did the flood engulf these beings.</p> +<p class="i4">This I saw, and well I know now,</p> +<p class="i4">That a kiss outweighs all language,</p> +<p class="i4">Is, though mute, love's song of songs.</p> +<p class="i4">And when words fail, then the singer</p> +<p class="i4">Should be silent; therefore silent</p> +<p class="i4">He returns now to the garden.</p> +<p class="i6">On the stone steps of the terrace</p> +<p class="i4">Lay the worthy Hiddigeigei;</p> +<p class="i4">And with great amazement saw he,</p> +<p class="i4">How his mistress and young Werner</p> +<p class="i4">Were each other fondly kissing.</p> +<p class="i4">Grumbling said he to himself then:</p> +<p class="i4">"Often have I meditated</p> +<p class="i4">On great problems hard to settle,</p> +<p class="i4">Which my cat-heart fully fathomed;</p> +<p class="i4">But there's one which yet remaineth</p> +<p class="i4">Quite unsolved, uncomprehended:</p> +<p class="i4">Why do people kiss each other?</p> +<p class="i4">Not from hatred, not from hunger,</p> +<p class="i4">Else they'd bite and eat each other;</p> +<p class="i4">Neither can it be an aimless</p> +<p class="i4">Nonsense, for they are in general</p> +<p class="i4">Wise, and know well what they're doing.</p> +<p class="i4">Why then is it, I ask vainly,</p> +<p class="i4">Why do people kiss each other?</p> +<p class="i4">Why do mostly so the youthful?</p> +<p class="i4">And why mostly so in Spring-time?</p> +<p class="i4">Over all these knotty questions,</p> +<p class="i4">I intend to ponder further,</p> +<p class="i4">On the gable-roof to-morrow."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Margaretta plucked some roses,</p> +<p class="i4">Took then Werner's hat, and gaily</p> +<p class="i4">With the fairest ones adorned it.</p> +<p class="i4">"Poor pale man, till there are blooming</p> +<p class="i4">On your own cheeks just such roses,</p> +<p class="i4">On your hat you'll have to wear them.</p> +<p class="i4">But now tell me, wherefore is it</p> +<p class="i4">That I do so dearly love you?</p> +<p class="i4">Not a word you ere have spoken,</p> +<p class="i4">That could show me that you loved me.</p> +<p class="i4">Sometimes only shy and bashful</p> +<p class="i4">Did you raise at me your glances,</p> +<p class="i4">And sometimes you played before me.</p> +<p class="i4">Is it, then, your country's custom,</p> +<p class="i4">That a woman's love is won there,</p> +<p class="i4">Without words by trumpet-blowing?"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Margaretta, sweetest darling,"</p> +<p class="i4">Said young Werner, "could I venture?</p> +<p class="i4">You appeared to me so saint-like,</p> +<p class="i4">In your flowing, snow-white garments.</p> +<p class="i4">At the feast of Fridolinus.</p> +<p class="i4">'Twas your glance which made me enter</p> +<p class="i4">In your noble father's service;</p> +<p class="i4">And your favour was the sunshine</p> +<p class="i4">Which my daily life illumined.</p> +<p class="i4">Ah! there by the mountain-lake once,</p> +<p class="i4">On my head was placed a garland.</p> +<p class="i4">'Twas love's crown of thorns you gave me,</p> +<p class="i4">And in silence I have worn it.</p> +<p class="i4">Could I speak, O could the homeless</p> +<p class="i4">Trumpeter his yearnings utter</p> +<p class="i4">Boldly to fair Margaretta?</p> +<p class="i4">Unto you as to an angel,</p> +<p class="i4">Who is guarding us poor mortals</p> +<p class="i4">Did I look in silent worship,</p> +<p class="i4">And I wished in your dear service</p> +<p class="i4">Here to die beneath the chestnuts.</p> +<p class="i4">From that fate you have preserved me,</p> +<p class="i4">Unto life and health restored me,</p> +<p class="i4">Made my life now doubly precious,</p> +<p class="i4">As I know your love adorns it.</p> +<p class="i4">Take me then! Since you did give me</p> +<p class="i4">That first burning kiss, I only</p> +<p class="i4">Live through you, belong to you now,</p> +<p class="i4">Margaretta--ever thine!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Thine, yes, thine," said Margaretta;</p> +<p class="i4">"What stiff barriers are erected</p> +<p class="i4">By our words! Belong to you now--</p> +<p class="i4">What a solemn cold expression.</p> +<p class="i4">Ever thine! 'tis thus love speaketh.</p> +<p class="i4">No more you; <i>thou</i>, heart to heart pressed,</p> +<p class="i4">Lips to lips, that is his language;</p> +<p class="i4">Therefore, Werner, let another</p> +<p class="i4">Kiss now seal it"--and their lips met.</p> +<p class="i4">In the sky the moon first shineth,</p> +<p class="i4">Then by countless stars is followed;</p> +<p class="i4">So the first kiss, when once given,</p> +<p class="i4">Is by hosts of others followed.</p> +<p class="i4">But how many were by stealth robbed</p> +<p class="i4">And paid duly back with interest,</p> +<p class="i4">All this doth my song keep secret.</p> +<p class="i4">Poetry and dry statistics</p> +<p class="i4">Are, alas, not on good terms.</p> +<p class="i4">Also Anton came now hurrying</p> +<p class="i4">Through the garden with a message:</p> +<p class="i4">"The three ladies from the convent,</p> +<p class="i4">Who the first of May went with us</p> +<p class="i4">To the fishing, send their greeting</p> +<p class="i4">To your gracious ladyship, and</p> +<p class="i4">Also make most kind inquiries</p> +<p class="i4">For the health of Master Werner,</p> +<p class="i4">Who, they trust, will soon amend."<p> +</div></div> +<br> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_pt13" href="#div1Ref_pt13">THIRTEENTH PART.</a></h2> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<h3>WERNER SUES FOR MARGARETTA.</h3> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Night, how long and full of terror!</p> +<p class="i4">When thou bring'st not to the weary</p> +<p class="i4">With thy shades refreshing slumber,</p> +<p class="i4">And sweet dreams to comfort him.</p> +<p class="i4">Restlessly his thoughts are delving</p> +<p class="i4">In the past's great heaps of rubbish,</p> +<p class="i4">Where they rake up many fragments</p> +<p class="i4">Of his former life, and nowhere</p> +<p class="i4">Can his eyes abide with pleasure;</p> +<p class="i4">Only gloomy spectres rise up,</p> +<p class="i4">Which the sunlight soon would banish.</p> +<p class="i4">Unrefreshed, next to the future</p> +<p class="i4">Roves the mind from which sweet sleep flies;</p> +<p class="i4">Forges plans, takes resolutions,</p> +<p class="i4">Builds up proud and airy castles;</p> +<p class="i4">But like owls and bats are flying</p> +<p class="i4">All around them hosts of doubts which</p> +<p class="i4">Drive away all hope and courage.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">From the tower-clock struck midnight.</p> +<p class="i4">On his couch was lying sleepless</p> +<p class="i4">Werner in the turret-chamber;</p> +<p class="i4">Through the window beaming faintly</p> +<p class="i4">Fell a narrow ray of moonlight,</p> +<p class="i4">While beneath the Rhine did rush.</p> +<p class="i4">And the sleepless brain of Werner</p> +<p class="i4">Is by dream-like visions haunted.</p> +<p class="i4">Once it seemed to him like Sunday;</p> +<p class="i4">Bells are pealing, horses neighing,</p> +<p class="i4">Toward the Schwarzwald goes a wedding,</p> +<p class="i4">He walks at the head as bridegroom,</p> +<p class="i4">By his side is Margaretta;</p> +<p class="i4">And she wears a wreath of myrtle.</p> +<p class="i4">In the village loud rejoicings,</p> +<p class="i4">And the roads and village street are</p> +<p class="i4">All with flowers overstrewn.</p> +<p class="i4">In his priestly robes is standing</p> +<p class="i4">By the church-door the old Pastor</p> +<p class="i4">Blessing, beckoning him to enter--</p> +<p class="i4">But the vision's thread broke off here</p> +<p class="i4">For a new one: He imagined</p> +<p class="i4">At the door there was a knocking;</p> +<p class="i4">And now enters the odd figure</p> +<p class="i4">Of his dear old friend Perkéo,</p> +<p class="i4">With his red nose shining brightly</p> +<p class="i4">In the dimly-lighted chamber;</p> +<p class="i4">And he speaks with husky voice thus:</p> +<p class="i6">"Oh, my lad, with love don't meddle!</p> +<p class="i4">Love's a fire which consumeth</p> +<p class="i4">Him who kindles it, completely;</p> +<p class="i4">And thou art no charcoal-burner!</p> +<p class="i4">Come then home to the clear Neckar,</p> +<p class="i4">Come with me to my old wine-tun,</p> +<p class="i4">Which contains good stuff sufficient</p> +<p class="i4">All thy love-flames to put out."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Next he seems to be transported</p> +<p class="i4">To an Eastern field of battle.</p> +<p class="i4">Cries of Allah, sabres whirring;</p> +<p class="i4">And he soon strikes down a Pashaw</p> +<p class="i4">From his horse, and brings the crescent</p> +<p class="i4">To the general, Prince Eugene,</p> +<p class="i4">Who then claps him on the shoulder:</p> +<p class="i4">"Well done, my Imperial captain!"</p> +<p class="i4">From the battle-field his dreaming</p> +<p class="i4">Flies back to the days of childhood,</p> +<p class="i4">And his nurse sings in the garden:</p> +<p class="i6">"Squirrel climbs up on the blackthorn,</p> +<p class="i4">Squirrel goes up to the tree-top,</p> +<p class="i4">Squirrel falls into his grave.</p> +<p class="i4">Had he not so high ascended,</p> +<p class="i4">Then his fall had been less heavy,</p> +<p class="i4">Had not broken then his leg."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Thus disturbed by all this dreaming,</p> +<p class="i4">Werner sprang up of a sudden,</p> +<p class="i4">With long strides walked through his chamber;</p> +<p class="i4">And his mind was troubled always</p> +<p class="i4">By the same portentous question:</p> +<p class="i4">"Shall I ask the Baron for her?"</p> +<p class="i4">Love well-nigh appeared to him now</p> +<p class="i4">Just like stolen fruit; he felt that,</p> +<p class="i4">Like a thief, before the day broke,</p> +<p class="i4">He had better leave the castle.</p> +<p class="i4">But just then the sun was rising,</p> +<p class="i4">With the beauty of a bridegroom</p> +<p class="i4">In the blush of early morning.</p> +<p class="i4">"Be ashamed, my heart, great coward!</p> +<p class="i4">Yes, I'll ask him," cried young Werner.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">At his breakfast sat the Baron</p> +<p class="i4">Poring deeply o'er a letter</p> +<p class="i4">Which the day before was brought him</p> +<p class="i4">By a messenger from Suabia,</p> +<p class="i4">From the Danube; where through narrow</p> +<p class="i4">Valleys the young stream is flowing,</p> +<p class="i4">And steep limestone rocks are rising</p> +<p class="i4">From the water which reflects them</p> +<p class="i4">With their verdant crowns of beech-trees;</p> +<p class="i4">Thence the man had come on horseback.</p> +<p class="i4">And the letter read as follows:<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Does my comrade still remember</p> +<p class="i4">His old Hans von Wildenstein?</p> +<p class="i4">Down the Rhine and Danube many</p> +<p class="i4">Drops of water have been flowing,</p> +<p class="i4">Since we in that war together</p> +<p class="i4">Lay before the bivouac-fire;</p> +<p class="i4">And I see it by my son's growth,</p> +<p class="i4">Who is now a strapping fellow--</p> +<p class="i4">Four-and-twenty years he reckons.</p> +<p class="i4">First a page unto his highness</p> +<p class="i4">The Grand Duke of Würtemberg;</p> +<p class="i4">Then to Tübingen I sent him.</p> +<p class="i4">If I by his debts can judge well,</p> +<p class="i4">Which I had to pay for him there,</p> +<p class="i4">He must have vast stores of knowledge.</p> +<p class="i4">Now he stays with me at home, at</p> +<p class="i4">Wildenstein; is hunting stags here,</p> +<p class="i4">Hunting foxes, hares and rabbits;</p> +<p class="i4">But sometimes the rascal even</p> +<p class="i4">Hunts the peasants' pretty daughters.</p> +<p class="i4">So 'tis time to think of taming</p> +<p class="i4">Him beneath the yoke of marriage.</p> +<p class="i4">If I err not, you, my friend, have</p> +<p class="i4">Just a daughter suited for him.</p> +<p class="i4">With old comrades 'tis the custom</p> +<p class="i4">Not to beat around the bush, but</p> +<p class="i4">Go straight forward to the business.</p> +<p class="i4">So I ask you, shall my Damian</p> +<p class="i4">Start upon a tour of courtship</p> +<p class="i4">To your castle on the Rhine?</p> +<p class="i4">Answer soon. Receive the greetings</p> +<p class="i4">Of thy Hans von Wildenstein!</p> +<p class="i6">"Postscript: Do you still remember</p> +<p class="i4">That great brawl we had at Augsburg,</p> +<p class="i4">And the rage of wealthy <a name="div1Ref_pg206" href="#div1_pg206"> +Fugger</a>,</p> +<p class="i4">The ill-humour of his ladies,</p> +<p class="i4">Two-and-thirty years ago?"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">With great effort tried the Baron</p> +<p class="i4">His friend's writing to decipher.</p> +<p class="i4">Spent a good half-hour upon it</p> +<p class="i4">Ere he came to its conclusion.</p> +<p class="i4">Smiling said he then: "A Suabian</p> +<p class="i4">Is a devil of a fellow.</p> +<p class="i4">One and all they are unpolished.</p> +<p class="i4">And coarse-grained is their whole nature;</p> +<p class="i4">But within their square-built noddles</p> +<p class="i4">Lie rich stores of clever cunning.</p> +<p class="i4">Many stupid brainless fellows</p> +<p class="i4">Might from them obtain supplies.</p> +<p class="i4">Truly my old Hans now even</p> +<p class="i4">In old age is calculating</p> +<p class="i4">Like the best diplomatist.</p> +<p class="i4">For, his much encumbered, rotten</p> +<p class="i4">Owl's-nest out there on the Danube,</p> +<p class="i4">Would be well propped up and rescued</p> +<p class="i4">By a good rich marriage-portion.</p> +<p class="i4">Still his plan is worth considering;</p> +<p class="i4">For, the name of Wildenstein is</p> +<p class="i4">Well known all throughout the Empire,</p> +<p class="i4">Since they followed as crusaders</p> +<p class="i4">In the train of Barbarossa.</p> +<p class="i4">Let the younker try his chance then!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Werner with most solemn aspect,</p> +<p class="i4">Dressed in black, the room now entered;</p> +<p class="i4">Sadness lay on his pale features.</p> +<p class="i4">In good humour spoke the Baron:</p> +<p class="i4">"I was wishing just to see you,</p> +<p class="i4">For I want you to be ready</p> +<p class="i4">With your pen, and as my faithful</p> +<p class="i4">Secretary write a letter,</p> +<p class="i4">And a letter of importance.</p> +<p class="i4">There's a knight who lives in Suabia</p> +<p class="i4">Questioning me about my daughter;</p> +<p class="i4">Asks her hand from me in marriage</p> +<p class="i4">For his son, the younker Damian.</p> +<p class="i4">Write him then, how Margaretta</p> +<p class="i4">Daily grows in grace and beauty;</p> +<p class="i4">How she--but I need not tell you.</p> +<p class="i4">Think you are an artist--sketch then</p> +<p class="i4">With your pen a life-like, faithful</p> +<p class="i4">Portrait, not a jot forgetting.</p> +<p class="i4">Also write, to his proposal</p> +<p class="i4">I do offer no objection,</p> +<p class="i4">And the younker, if he pleases,</p> +<p class="i4">May come here and try his fortune."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"May come here and try his fortune,"</p> +<p class="i4">Said young Werner, as if dreaming,</p> +<p class="i4">Mumbling to himself--when grimly</p> +<p class="i4">Said the Baron: "What's the matter?</p> +<p class="i4">You have now as long a visage</p> +<p class="i4">As a protestant old preacher</p> +<p class="i4">On Good Friday. Is the fever</p> +<p class="i4">Coming once again to plague you?"</p> +<p class="i4">Gravely answered him young Werner:</p> +<p class="i4">"I, my lord, can't write that letter,</p> +<p class="i4">You must find another penman;</p> +<p class="i4">For, I come myself as suitor,</p> +<p class="i4">Come to ask you for your daughter."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Come--to ask you--for your daughter!"</p> +<p class="i4">In his turn now said the Baron</p> +<p class="i4">To himself--he made a wry mouth</p> +<p class="i4">As one playing on the Jew's-harp,</p> +<p class="i4">And he felt a sudden twitching</p> +<p class="i4">In his foot from his old enemy</p> +<p class="i4">Podagra, and gravely said:</p> +<p class="i4">"My young friend, your brain is truly</p> +<p class="i4">Still affected with the fever.</p> +<p class="i4">Hurry quickly to the garden;</p> +<p class="i4">There stands in the shade a fountain,</p> +<p class="i4">There is flowing clear cool water;</p> +<p class="i4">If you dip your head thrice in it</p> +<p class="i4">Then your fever soon will cool."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Noble lord," now answered Werner,</p> +<p class="i4">"Spare your jokes, for you may better</p> +<p class="i4">Use them, when the noble younker</p> +<p class="i4">Comes here from the land of Suabia.</p> +<p class="i4">Calm and free from any fever</p> +<p class="i4">Have I on this step decided,</p> +<p class="i4">And to Margaretta's father</p> +<p class="i4">I repeat the same petition."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Darkly frowning said the Baron:</p> +<p class="i4">"Do you want to hear from me then</p> +<p class="i4">What your own good sense should tell you?</p> +<p class="i4">Most unwillingly I hurt you</p> +<p class="i4">With harsh words; I've not forgotten</p> +<p class="i4">That the wound upon your forehead,</p> +<p class="i4">Hardly healed yet, you received here</p> +<p class="i4">By your ardour in my service.</p> +<p class="i4">He who ventures as a suitor</p> +<p class="i4">For my daughter first must show me</p> +<p class="i4">That he comes of noble lineage.</p> +<p class="i4">Nature has set up strict barriers</p> +<p class="i4">Round us all with prescient wisdom,</p> +<p class="i4">To us all our sphere assigning,</p> +<p class="i4">Wherein we the best may prosper.</p> +<p class="i4">In the Holy Roman Empire</p> +<p class="i4">Is each rank defined most clearly--</p> +<p class="i4">Nobles, commoners, and peasants.</p> +<p class="i4">If they keep within their circle,</p> +<p class="i4">From themselves their race renewing,</p> +<p class="i4">They'll remain then strong and healthy.</p> +<p class="i4">Each is then just like a column,</p> +<p class="i4">Which supports the whole; but never</p> +<p class="i4">Should these classes mix together.</p> +<p class="i4">Do you know the consequences?</p> +<p class="i4">Our descendants would have something</p> +<p class="i4">Of each class, and yet be nothing--</p> +<p class="i4">Shallow, good-for-nothing mongrels,</p> +<p class="i4">Tossed about, because uprooted</p> +<p class="i4">From the soil of old tradition.</p> +<p class="i4">Firm, exclusive must a man be;</p> +<p class="i4">And his course of life already</p> +<p class="i4">Must be inborn, an inheritance</p> +<p class="i4">Coming down through generations.</p> +<p class="i4">Hence our custom does require</p> +<p class="i4">Equal rank when people marry;</p> +<p class="i4">And I hold as law this custom;</p> +<p class="i4">I shall not allow a stranger</p> +<p class="i4">To o'erleap this solid barrier,</p> +<p class="i4">And no trumpeter shall therefore</p> +<p class="i4">Ever woo a noble lady."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Thus the Baron. With great labour</p> +<p class="i4">Had he put the words together</p> +<p class="i4">Of this solemn and unusual</p> +<p class="i4">Theoretical discourse.</p> +<p class="i4">Meanwhile Hiddigeigei lying</p> +<p class="i4">There, behind the stove, was listening.</p> +<p class="i4">At the end assent he nodded,</p> +<p class="i4">But in thoughtful meditation</p> +<p class="i4">Raised his paw up to his forehead,</p> +<p class="i4">Reasoning to himself as follows:</p> +<p class="i4">"Why do people kiss each other?</p> +<p class="i4">Never shall I solve this question!</p> +<p class="i4">I did think at last I'd solved it,</p> +<p class="i4">Thought that kisses might be useful</p> +<p class="i4">As a means to stop one's talking,</p> +<p class="i4">And prevent one from declaiming</p> +<p class="i4">Bitter stinging words of truth.</p> +<p class="i4">But, alas, now this solution</p> +<p class="i4">Seems, I must confess, erroneous;</p> +<p class="i4">Else young Werner long before this</p> +<p class="i4">Would have kissed my good old master."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">To the Baron said young Werner,</p> +<p class="i4">And his voice was growing hollow:</p> +<p class="i4">"Much I thank you for this lesson.</p> +<p class="i4">'Midst the fir-trees of the mountains,</p> +<p class="i4">By the green waves of the river,</p> +<p class="i4">In the sunlight of the May-time,</p> +<p class="i4">Has my eye been overlooking</p> +<p class="i4">All these barriers of custom.</p> +<p class="i4">Thanks, that you have thus recalled them.</p> +<p class="i4">Also, thanks for all your kindness,</p> +<p class="i4">Shown to me while on the Rhine.</p> +<p class="i4">Now my time is up, the meaning</p> +<p class="i4">Of your words I thus interpret:</p> +<p class="i4">'Right about face!' I go gladly.</p> +<p class="i4">As a suitor fully equal</p> +<p class="i4">I shall here return, or never.</p> +<p class="i4">Be not angry then--farewell!"</p> +<p class="i4">Spoke, and from the room departed,</p> +<p class="i4">And he knew what must be done now.</p> +<p class="i4">At the door with troubled glances</p> +<p class="i4">Still a long while gazed the Baron:</p> +<p class="i4">"I am really sad," he muttered,</p> +<p class="i4">"Wherefore is this brave youth's name not</p> +<p class="i4">Damian von Wildenstein?"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Parting, parting, dismal moment!</p> +<p class="i4">Who first ever did invent it?</p> +<p class="i4">Surely 'twas a wicked man, far</p> +<p class="i4">In the Polar Sea, and freezing</p> +<p class="i4">Round his nose the polar wind blew;</p> +<p class="i4">And his shaggy, jealous consort,</p> +<p class="i4">Plagued him, so he no more relished</p> +<p class="i4">The sweet comfort of the train-oil.</p> +<p class="i4">O'er his head he drew a yellow,</p> +<p class="i4">Furry sealskin, and then waving</p> +<p class="i4">With his fur-protected right hand,</p> +<p class="i4">To his Ylaleyka spoke he</p> +<p class="i4">First this harsh and mournful sentence:</p> +<p class="i4">"Fare-thee-well, from thee I'm parting!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Parting, parting, dismal moment!</p> +<p class="i4">In his turret-chamber Werner,</p> +<p class="i4">Was now tying bag and baggage.</p> +<p class="i4">Fastening up his travelling knapsack:</p> +<p class="i4">Greets the walls of his snug chamber</p> +<p class="i4">For the last time, for they seemed then</p> +<p class="i4">Just like good old friends and comrades.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Only these he took farewell of;</p> +<p class="i4">Margaretta's eyes he could not</p> +<p class="i4">For the world then have encountered.</p> +<p class="i4">To the court-yard he descended,</p> +<p class="i4">Quickly his good horse he saddled.</p> +<p class="i4">Hoofs then clatter; a sad rider</p> +<p class="i4">Rode forth from the castle's precincts.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">In the low ground by the river</p> +<p class="i4">Stood a walnut-tree; once more there</p> +<p class="i4">Now he halted with his horse,</p> +<p class="i4">And once more took up his trumpet;</p> +<p class="i4">From his overburdened soul then</p> +<p class="i4">His farewell rang to the castle--</p> +<p class="i4">Rang out; don't you know the swan's song,</p> +<p class="i4">When with death's foreboding o'er him</p> +<p class="i4">Out into the lake he's swimming?</p> +<p class="i4">Through the rushes, through the snow-white</p> +<p class="i4">Water-lilies, rings his death-song:</p> +<p class="i4">"Lovely world, I now must leave thee;</p> +<p class="i4">Lovely world I die reluctant!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Thus he blew there. Were those tears which</p> +<p class="i4">Glistened brightly on his trumpet,</p> +<p class="i4">Or some rain-drops which had fallen?</p> +<p class="i4">Onward now; the sharp spurs quickly</p> +<p class="i4">In the horse's flanks he presses,</p> +<p class="i4">And is flying at full gallop</p> +<p class="i4">Round the forest's farthest edge.<p> +</div></div> +<br> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_pt14" href="#div1Ref_pt14">FOURTEENTH PART.</a></h2> +<br> + +<h3>THE BOOK OF SONGS.</h3> +<br> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Werner went to distant countries,</p> +<p class="i6">Margaretta's heart was blighted;</p> +<p class="i4">Some few years will now pass over</p> +<p class="i6">Ere the two are reunited.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">But, meanwhile, abrupt transitions</p> +<p class="i8">Are not to my taste, I own;</p> +<p class="i4">So with songs, like wreaths of flowers,</p> +<p class="i6">Shall this gap be overstrewn.<p> +</div></div> +<br> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<h2><a name="div2_werner" href="#div2Ref_werner">YOUNG WERNER'S SONGS</a>.</h2> +<br> +<br> + +<h3>I.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The moment when I saw thee first,</p> +<p class="i6">Struck dumb, I stood there dreaming,</p> +<p class="i4">My thoughts ran into harmonies,</p> +<p class="i6">Which through my heart were streaming.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">So here I stand, poor trumpeter,</p> +<p class="i6">And on the sward am blowing;</p> +<p class="i4">In words I cannot tell my love,</p> +<p class="i6">In music it is flowing.<p> +</div> +<br> + + +<h3>II.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The moment when I saw thee first,</p> +<p class="i6">The sixth of March, like lightning,</p> +<p class="i4">Came quickly from the azure sky</p> +<p class="i6">A flash, my heart igniting.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">It burn'd up all that dwelt therein,</p> +<p class="i6">A dire destruction bringing,</p> +<p class="i4">But from the ruins, ivy-like,</p> +<p class="i6">My loved one's name was springing.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>III.</h3> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Turn not thy timid glance away,</p> +<p class="i6">To hide what there doth glisten;</p> +<p class="i4">Come to the terrace, while I play,</p> +<p class="i6">And to my music listen.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">In vain your efforts to escape,</p> +<p class="i6">I still continue blowing;</p> +<p class="i4">With magic speed my tunes take shape</p> +<p class="i6">Into a ladder growing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">On these sweet tones' melodious rounds</p> +<p class="i6">Love gently is ascending;</p> +<p class="i4">Through bolt and lock still pierce the sounds</p> +<p class="i6">Which I to thee am sending.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Turn not thy timid glance away,</p> +<p class="i6">To hide what there doth glisten;</p> +<p class="i4">Come to the terrace while I play,</p> +<p class="i6">And to my music listen.<p> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<h3>IV.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">A merry piece I blew on the shore,</p> +<p class="i6">How clear my trumpet was pealing!</p> +<p class="i4">Above the storm the tones did soar</p> +<p class="i6">Up to the castle stealing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The water-nymph on her crystal couch</p> +<p class="i6">Hears music through the wild roaring;</p> +<p class="i4">She rises up to listen well</p> +<p class="i6">To a human heart's outpouring.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And when she dives to her home below,</p> +<p class="i6">With laughter the fishes she's telling,</p> +<p class="i4">"O River-children, one doth see</p> +<p class="i6">Strange things where mortals are dwelling.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">"There stands someone on shore, in the storm:</p> +<p class="i6">What do you think he's doing?</p> +<p class="i4">Blows evermore the same old tune--</p> +<p class="i6">The tune of Love's soft wooing."<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>V.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Thou Muse of Music, take my thanks,</p> +<p class="i6">Be praise to thee forever,</p> +<p class="i4">For teaching me thy Art divine,</p> +<p class="i6">That Art which faileth never.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Though language is a noble thing,</p> +<p class="i6">There are limits to what it expresses;</p> +<p class="i4">No speech has uttered yet what lives</p> +<p class="i6">In the soul's most hidden recesses.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">It matters not that there are times,</p> +<p class="i6">When words to us are wanting;</p> +<p class="i4">For then, within, mysterious sounds</p> +<p class="i6">Our spell-bound hearts are haunting.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">It murmurs, hums, it swells and rings,</p> +<p class="i6">Our hearts seem well-nigh breaking,</p> +<p class="i4">Till music's glorious hosts burst forth,</p> +<p class="i6">To forms of life awaking.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Oft I should stand before my love</p> +<p class="i6">A stupid bashful fellow,</p> +<p class="i4">Were not my trumpet there at hand,</p> +<p class="i6">And love-songs sweet and mellow.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Thou Muse of Music, take my thanks,</p> +<p class="i6">Be praise to thee forever,</p> +<p class="i4">For teaching me thy Art divine,</p> +<p class="i6">That Art which faileth never.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>VI.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The skylark and the raven</p> +<p class="i6">Are of a different tribe;</p> +<p class="i4">I feel as if in heaven!</p> +<p class="i6">That I am not a scribe.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The world is not so prosy,</p> +<p class="i6">The woods with mirth o'erflow,</p> +<p class="i4">To me life seems all rosy,</p> +<p class="i6">My trumpet rings hallo.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And merry tunes 'tis sending</p> +<p class="i6">Forth in a constant flow;</p> +<p class="i4">Who finds these sounds offending</p> +<p class="i6">May to the cloister go.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">When ink it shall be raining,</p> +<p class="i6">Sand fall instead of snow,</p> +<p class="i4">Then, from my sin abstaining,</p> +<p class="i6">I nevermore will blow.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>VII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Where 'neath the bridge the waters foam,</p> +<p class="i6">Dame Trout was swimming downward,</p> +<p class="i4">And met her cousin Salmon there:</p> +<p class="i6">"How are you, river-comrade?"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">"I'm well," quoth he, "but thought just now:</p> +<p class="i6">If only lightning flashing,</p> +<p class="i4">Down there, would strike that stripling dead,</p> +<p class="i6">Him and his trumpet smashing!<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The live-long day my fine young sir</p> +<p class="i6">On shore is promenading;</p> +<p class="i4">Rhine up, Rhine down, and never stops</p> +<p class="i6">His hateful serenading."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Dame Trout, then smiling, answered him;</p> +<p class="i6">"Dear cousin, you are spiteful,</p> +<p class="i4">I, on the contrary, do find</p> +<p class="i6">The Trumpeter delightful.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">"If you, like him, could but enjoy</p> +<p class="i6">Fair Margaretta's favour,</p> +<p class="i4">To learn the trumpet even now,</p> +<p class="i6">You would not deem much labour."<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>VIII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">I pray that no fair rose for me,</p> +<p class="i6">By thy dear hands, be broken;</p> +<p class="i4">A slip of holly evergreen,</p> +<p class="i6">Be of our love the token.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The chaplet green with glossy sheen</p> +<p class="i6">O'er the fruit good watch is keeping;</p> +<p class="i4">And all will prick who try to pick</p> +<p class="i6">What's for another's reaping.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The gaudy rose, when Autumn comes,</p> +<p class="i6">Finds that her beauty waneth;</p> +<p class="i4">The holly leaf her modest green</p> +<p class="i6">Through cold and snow retaineth.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>IX.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Her fragrant balm the sweet May night</p> +<p class="i6">O'er hill and vale is breathing,</p> +<p class="i4">When through the shrubs with footsteps light</p> +<p class="i6">To the castle I am stealing.</p> +<p class="i4">In the garden waves the linden-tree,</p> +<p class="i6">I climb to its green bower,</p> +<p class="i4">And from the leafy canopy</p> +<p class="i6">My song soars to the tower:</p> +<p class="i8">"Young Werner is the happiest youth</p> +<p class="i10">In the German Empire dwelling,</p> +<p class="i8"> But who bewitched him thus, forsooth,</p> +<p class="i8"> In words he won't be telling.</p> +<p class="i8"> Hurrah! is all that he will say,</p> +<p class="i8"> How lovely is the month of May,</p> +<p class="i10">Dear love, I send thee greeting!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">With joyous trills the nightingale</p> +<p class="i6">On the topmost bough is singing,</p> +<p class="i4">While far o'er mountain and o'er vale</p> +<p class="i6">The thrilling notes are ringing.</p> +<p class="i4">The birds are looking all about,</p> +<p class="i6">Awaking from their slumber;</p> +<p class="i4">From branch, and bush, and hedge burst out</p> +<p class="i6">Glad voices without number:</p> +<p class="i8">"Young Werner is the happiest youth</p> +<p class="i10">In the German Empire dwelling,</p> +<p class="i8">But who bewitched him thus, forsooth,</p> +<p class="i8">In words he won't be telling.</p> +<p class="i8">Hurrah! is all that he will say,</p> +<p class="i8">How lovely is the month of May,</p> +<p class="i10">Dear love, I send thee greeting!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The sounds are heard, are borne along</p> +<p class="i6">By the river downward flowing;</p> +<p class="i4">And from afar echoes the song,</p> +<p class="i6">Fainter and fainter growing.</p> +<p class="i4">And through the air of rosy morn</p> +<p class="i6">I see two angels winging,</p> +<p class="i4">Like a harp's sweet tones, from Heaven borne,</p> +<p class="i6">I hear their voices singing:</p> +<p class="i8"> "Young Werner is the happiest youth</p> +<p class="i10"> In the German Empire dwelling,</p> +<p class="i8"> But who bewitched him thus, forsooth,</p> +<p class="i10">In words he won't be telling.</p> +<p class="i8"> Hurrah! is all that he will say,</p> +<p class="i8"> How lovely is the month of May,</p> +<p class="i10">Dear love, I send thee greeting!"<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>X.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Who's clattering from the tower</p> +<p class="i6">To me a greeting queer?</p> +<p class="i4">'Tis, in his nest so cosy,</p> +<p class="i6">My friend the stork I hear.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">He's preparing for a journey,</p> +<p class="i6">O'er sea and land will hie;</p> +<p class="i4">The Autumn is coming quickly,</p> +<p class="i6">So now he says good-bye.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Art right, that thou dost travel</p> +<p class="i6">Where warmer skies do smile;</p> +<p class="i4">From me greet fair Italia,</p> +<p class="i6">And also Father Nile.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">There in the south are waiting</p> +<p class="i6">Far better meals for thee,</p> +<p class="i4">Than German frogs and paddocks,</p> +<p class="i6">Poor chafers and ennui!<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Old fellow, God preserve thee,</p> +<p class="i6">My blessing take along;</p> +<p class="i4">For thou, at peaceful night-time,</p> +<p class="i6">Hast often heard my song.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And if perchance thou wert not</p> +<p class="i6">Asleep within thy nest,</p> +<p class="i4">Thou must have seen how often</p> +<p class="i6">With kisses I was blest.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">But be not, pray, a tell-tale,</p> +<p class="i6">Be still, old comrade mine,</p> +<p class="i4">What business have the Moors there</p> +<p class="i6">With lovers on the Rhine?<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>XI.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">A settled life I did despise,</p> +<p class="i6">And so to wandering took;</p> +<p class="i4">When soon I found, to my surprise,</p> +<p class="i6">A comfortable nook.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">But as I lay in rest's soft lap,</p> +<p class="i6">And hoped for long repose,</p> +<p class="i4">There broke o'er me a thunder-clap,</p> +<p class="i6">My stay came to a close.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Each year a different plant I see</p> +<p class="i6">Spring up, with beauty clad;</p> +<p class="i4">A fool's mad dance this world would be,</p> +<p class="i6">If 'twere not quite so sad.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>XII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">To life belongs a most unpleasant feature:</p> +<p class="i6">That not a rose without sharp thorns doth grow,</p> +<p class="i4">Much as love's yearning stirs our human nature,</p> +<p class="i6">Through pangs of parting we at last must go.</p> +<p class="i4">From thy dear eyes, when I my fate was trying,</p> +<p class="i6">A gleam of love and joy streamed forth to me:</p> +<p class="i4">Preserve thee God! my joy seemed then undying,</p> +<p class="i6">Preserve thee God! such joy was not to be.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">I've suffered much from envy, hatred, sorrow,</p> +<p class="i6">A weather-beaten wanderer sad and worn;</p> +<p class="i4">I dreamt of peace and of a happy morrow,</p> +<p class="i6">When I to thee by angel-guides was borne.</p> +<p class="i4">To thy dear arms for comfort I was flying,</p> +<p class="i6">In grateful thanks I vowed my life to thee:</p> +<p class="i4">Preserve thee God! my joy seemed then undying,</p> +<p class="i6">Preserve thee God! such joy was not to be.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The clouds fly fast, the wind the leaves is sweeping,</p> +<p class="i6">A heavy shower falls o'er woods and meads:</p> +<p class="i4">The weather with my parting is in keeping,</p> +<p class="i6">Gray as the sky my path before me leads.</p> +<p class="i4">Whatever may come, joy's smile or bitter sighing,</p> +<p class="i6">Thou lovely maid! I'll think of naught but thee!</p> +<p class="i4">Preserve thee God! my joy seemed once undying,</p> +<p class="i4">Preserve thee God! such joy was not for me.<p> +</div></div> +<br> + +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<h2><a name="div2_cat" href="#div2Ref_cat">SONGS OF THE CAT HIDDIGEIGEI</a>.</h2> +<br> +<br> +<h3>I.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Honest folks are turning lately</p> +<p class="i6">Their attention to the Muses,</p> +<p class="i4">And with ease compose their own songs</p> +<p class="i6">For their daily household uses.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Therefore I shall also try it,</p> +<p class="i6">On light pinions freely winging;</p> +<p class="i4">For, who dares deny our talent,</p> +<p class="i6">Takes from cats the right of singing?<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">If I always run to book-stores</p> +<p class="i6">I shall find it too expensive;</p> +<p class="i4">And their gaudy books contain oft</p> +<p class="i6">Naught but trash, weak and offensive.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>II.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">When through vales and on the mountains</p> +<p class="i6">Roars the storm at midnight drear,</p> +<p class="i4">Clambering over ridge and chimney</p> +<p class="i6">Hiddigeigei doth appear.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Like a spirit he stands up there,</p> +<p class="i6">Never looked he half so fair;</p> +<p class="i4">Fire from his eyes is streaming,</p> +<p class="i6">Fire from his bristling hair.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And he howls in fierce wild measure,</p> +<p class="i6">An old war-cry caterwauling,</p> +<p class="i4">Which is borne off by the storm-wind,</p> +<p class="i6">Like the distant thunder rolling.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Not a soul then ever sees him,</p> +<p class="i6">Each is sleeping in his house;</p> +<p class="i4">But far down, deep in the cellar,</p> +<p class="i6">Listens the poor trembling mouse.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">For his voice she recognises,</p> +<p class="i6">And she knows that, when in rage,</p> +<p class="i4">Most ferocious is the aspect</p> +<p class="i6">Of this valiant feline sage.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>III.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">From the tower's highest summit</p> +<p class="i6">Gaze I at the world below;</p> +<p class="i4">From my lofty seat I'm able</p> +<p class="i6">To observe life's ceaseless flow.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And the cat's green eyes are staring,</p> +<p class="i6">And he laughs within his sleeve,</p> +<p class="i4">That those pygmies there are trying</p> +<p class="i6">Such great follies to achieve.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">What's the use? Up to my level</p> +<p class="i6">Never can I raise mankind.</p> +<p class="i4">Let them follow their devices,</p> +<p class="i6">Small their loss is, to my mind.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">For perverted are men's actions,</p> +<p class="i6">And their work is woe and crash.</p> +<p class="i4">Conscious of his own great value,</p> +<p class="i6">Grins the cat down on this trash!<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>IV.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">O the world does us injustice,</p> +<p class="i6">And for thanks I look quite vainly;</p> +<p class="i4">For the finest chords of feline</p> +<p class="i6">Nature, it mistakes so plainly.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Thus, if some one falls down drunken,</p> +<p class="i6">And a throbbing like a hammer</p> +<p class="i4">Racks his heavy head on waking,</p> +<p class="i6">Germans call it <a name="div1Ref_pg235" href="#div1_pg235"><i> +Katzenjammer</i></a>.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Katzenjammer, oh great insult!</p> +<p class="i6">Gentle is our caterwauling;</p> +<p class="i4">Only men I hear too often</p> +<p class="i6">Through the streets at night-time bawling.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Yes! they do us great injustice,</p> +<p class="i6">Never can be comprehending</p> +<p class="i4">All the deep and morbid sorrow</p> +<p class="i6">Which a poor cat's heart is rending.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>V.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Hiddigeigei often has raved with delight,</p> +<p class="i6">The true, good, and beautiful seeking;</p> +<p class="i4">Hiddigeigei often felt grief's deadly blight,</p> +<p class="i6">And with tender sad yearnings was weeping.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Hiddigeigei once has felt his heart glow,</p> +<p class="i6">When the fairest of cats he was wooing;</p> +<p class="i4">And just as a troubadour's love-songs flow,</p> +<p class="i6">Rang nightly his spirited mewing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Hiddigeigei many a valiant fight,</p> +<p class="i6">Like the Paladin Roland, was waging;</p> +<p class="i4">But men have often belaboured his hide,</p> +<p class="i6">And with dropping hot pitch made him raging.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Hiddigeigei to his sorrow found out,</p> +<p class="i6">That his fair one was false and deceiving</p> +<p class="i4">That from a poor insignificant lout</p> +<p class="i6">She was secretly visits receiving.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Hiddigeigei then did open his eyes,</p> +<p class="i6">Left off his pining and yearning;</p> +<p class="i4">The world henceforth he learned to despise,</p> +<p class="i6">To his inner self earnestly turning.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<h3>VI.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Lovely month of May, how hateful</p> +<p class="i6">To a cat you are, and dreary</p> +<p class="i4">Ne'er I thought such din of music</p> +<p class="i6">Could a cat's heart make so weary.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">From the branches, from the bushes</p> +<p class="i6">Birds their warbling notes are ringing;</p> +<p class="i4">Far and wide, as if for money,</p> +<p class="i6">Men I hear forever singing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">There the cook sings in the kitchen--</p> +<p class="i6">Is love also her head turning?</p> +<p class="i4">In falsetto she now screameth,</p> +<p class="i6">That with rage my soul is burning.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Farther upward will I clamber,</p> +<p class="i6">To the terrace slowly wending.</p> +<p class="i4">Woe to me, for from the garden</p> +<p class="i6">Are my neighbour's songs ascending.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Even next the roof I cannot</p> +<p class="i6">Find the rest for which I'm pining;</p> +<p class="i4">Near me dwells a crazy poet,</p> +<p class="i6">His own verses ever whining.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">When despairing to the cellar</p> +<p class="i6">Down I rush the noise escaping;</p> +<p class="i4">Ah, above me they are dancing,</p> +<p class="i6">To the pipes, and fiddles' scraping.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Harmless tribe! Your lyric madness</p> +<p class="i6">You'll continue, while there yonder,</p> +<p class="i4">In the East, the clouds are gathering,</p> +<p class="i6">Soon to burst in tragic thunder.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>VII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">May has come now. To the thinker,</p> +<p class="i4">Who the causes of phenomena</p> +<p class="i4">Searches, 'tis a natural sequence:</p> +<p class="i4">In the centre of creation</p> +<p class="i4">Are two aged white cats standing,</p> +<p class="i4">Who the world turn on its axis;</p> +<p class="i4">And their labour there produces</p> +<p class="i4">The recurring change of seasons.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">But why is it in the May month</p> +<p class="i4">That my eyes are ever ogling,</p> +<p class="i4">That my heart is so impassioned?</p> +<p class="i4">And why is it that I daily</p> +<p class="i4">Must be leering sixteen hours</p> +<p class="i4">From the terrace, as if nailed there,</p> +<p class="i4">At the fair cat Apollonia,</p> +<p class="i4">At the black-haired Jewess Rachel?<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>VIII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">A strong bulwark 'gainst enticements</p> +<p class="i6">I have built on good foundations;</p> +<p class="i4">But to the most virtuous even</p> +<p class="i6">Sometimes come unsought temptations.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And more ardent than in youth's time,</p> +<p class="i6">The old dream comes o'er me stealing;</p> +<p class="i4">I on memory's pinions soar up,</p> +<p class="i6">Filled with burning amorous feeling.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Oh fair Naples, land of beauty,</p> +<p class="i6">With thy nectar-cup thou cheerest!</p> +<p class="i4">To Sorrento I'd be flying.</p> +<p class="i6">To a roof to me the dearest.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Old Vesuvius and the white sails</p> +<p class="i6">On the bay are greeting bringing,</p> +<p class="i4">And the olive-woods are gladdened</p> +<p class="i6">By the spring-birds' joyous singing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">To the Loggia slinks Carmela,</p> +<p class="i6">Strokes my beard with soft caresses;</p> +<p class="i4">Of all cats by far the fairest,</p> +<p class="i6">Lovingly my paw she presses.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And she looks on me with longing,</p> +<p class="i6">But now hark! there is a howling;</p> +<p class="i4">Is the surf thus loudly roaring?</p> +<p class="i6">Or is old Vesuvius growling?<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">'Tis not old Vesuvius growling,</p> +<p class="i6">For he holds now his vacation.</p> +<p class="i4">In the yard, destruction vowing,</p> +<p class="i6">Barks the worst dog in creation--<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Barks the worst dog in creation--</p> +<p class="i6">Barks Francesco, loudly yelling;</p> +<p class="i4">And my lovely dream's enchantment</p> +<p class="i6">He thus rudely is dispelling.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>IX.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Hiddigeigei strictly shunneth</p> +<p class="i6">What his conscience might be hurting;</p> +<p class="i4">But he oft connives benignly</p> +<p class="i6">At his fellow-cats' gay flirting.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Hiddigeigei with great ardour</p> +<p class="i6">Makes the mice-hunt his chief duty;</p> +<p class="i4">And he frets not if another</p> +<p class="i6">With sweet music worships beauty.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Quoth the wise cat Hiddigeigei:</p> +<p class="i6">Ere it rots, the fruit be plucking;</p> +<p class="i4">So, if years should come of famine,</p> +<p class="i6">Memory's paws remain for sucking.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>X.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Even a God-fearing conduct,</p> +<p class="i6">Cannot keep us from declining;</p> +<p class="i4">With despair I see already</p> +<p class="i6">In my fur some gray hairs shining.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Yes, unpitying Time destroyeth</p> +<p class="i6">All for which we've boldly striven;</p> +<p class="i4">For against the sharp-toothed tyrant</p> +<p class="i6">Nature has no weapons given.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Unadmired and forgotten</p> +<p class="i6">We fall victims to this power.</p> +<p class="i4">Wish I could, with fury raging,</p> +<p class="i6">Eat both clock-hands of the tower.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>XI.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Long past is the time, ere man in his might</p> +<p class="i6">O'er the earth his dominion was spreading;</p> +<p class="i4">When the mammoth roamed in his ancient right</p> +<p class="i6">Through the forests which crashed 'neath his</p> +<p class="i4"> treading.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">In vain may'st thou search now far and near</p> +<p class="i6">For the Lion, the desert's great ruler;</p> +<p class="i4">But we must remember, that we live here</p> +<p class="i6">In a climate decidedly cooler.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">In life and in fiction is given no praise</p> +<p class="i6">To the great and the highly gifted;</p> +<p class="i4">And ever weaker is growing the race</p> +<p class="i6">Till genius to nothing is sifted.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">When cats disappear the mice raise their voice,</p> +<p class="i6">Till they like the others skedaddle;</p> +<p class="i4">At last in mad frolic we hear <i>them</i> rejoice--</p> +<p class="i6">The infusoria rabble.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>XII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Hiddigeigei sees with sorrow</p> +<p class="i6">To a close his days are drawing;</p> +<p class="i4">Death may come at any moment,</p> +<p class="i6">So deep grief his heart is gnawing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">O how gladly I the riches</p> +<p class="i6">Of my wisdom would be preaching,</p> +<p class="i4">That in joy as well as sorrow</p> +<p class="i6">Cats might profit from my teaching.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Ah! the road of life is rugged;</p> +<p class="i6">On it rough sharp stones are lying.</p> +<p class="i4">Stumbling o'er this path so dreary,</p> +<p class="i6">Sprained and bruised we limp on crying.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Life oft useless wounds is giving.</p> +<p class="i6">For 'tis full of brawls and knavery;</p> +<p class="i4">Vainly many cats have fallen</p> +<p class="i6">Victims to an empty bravery.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">But for what this constant fretting?</p> +<p class="i6">The young cats are laughing ever,</p> +<p class="i4">No advice from me accepting--</p> +<p class="i6">Only suffering makes them clever.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Let us see what they'll accomplish;</p> +<p class="i6">History's teachings are derided:</p> +<p class="i4">His sage maxims ne'er to publish,</p> +<p class="i6">Hiddigeigei has decided.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>XIII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Growing weaker, breathing harder,</p> +<p class="i6">Soon I'll feel Death's shadow o'er me:</p> +<p class="i4">Make my grave there in the store-house,</p> +<p class="i6">In my former field of glory.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Valiantly all round me slaying</p> +<p class="i6">Fought I like a raging lion:</p> +<p class="i4">In his armour clad then bury</p> +<p class="i6">Of his race the last brave scion.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Yes the last, because the offspring</p> +<p class="i6">Win their parents equal never!</p> +<p class="i4">They are good but wooden people,</p> +<p class="i6">Not so witty nor as clever.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Wooden are they, thinking solely</p> +<p class="i6">Of the moment, hollow hearted;</p> +<p class="i4">Only few still hold as sacred</p> +<p class="i6">The bequests of the departed.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">But sometime, when years have passed by,</p> +<p class="i6">In my grave I've long been sleeping,</p> +<p class="i4">Then will come the angry cat's howl</p> +<p class="i6">Nightly down upon you sweeping.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Hiddigeigei's solemn warning</p> +<p class="i6">Will you from your slumber waken:</p> +<p class="i4">Ever fear the coils of dulness!</p> +<p class="i6">Save yourselves, ye God-forsaken!</p> +</div></div> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<h2><a name="div2_man" href="#div2Ref_man">SONGS OF THE SILENT MAN</a>.</h2> + + +<h3>FROM THE CAVE OF THE GNOMES.</h3> +<br> +<br> +<h3>I.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Quiet heart! O ponder lonely,</p> +<p class="i6">Valiant, by no fears assailed;</p> +<p class="i4">Only in calm meditation</p> +<p class="i6">Lofty secrets are unveiled.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">While the storms of life are raging,</p> +<p class="i6">While mean souls for trifles fight.</p> +<p class="i4">Thou on wings of song art soaring</p> +<p class="i6">O'er the mob in purer light.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Leave the dusty road to others,</p> +<p class="i6">And thy soul unsullied keep,</p> +<p class="i4">A clear mirror, like the ocean,</p> +<p class="i6">Where the sun has sunk to sleep.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">O'er the world's loud bustle rising,</p> +<p class="i6">Soars the eagle lone on high;</p> +<p class="i4">Cranes and storks, they flock together,</p> +<p class="i6">But close to the earth do fly.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Quiet heart! O ponder lonely,</p> +<p class="i6">Valiant, by no fears assailed;</p> +<p class="i4">Only in calm meditation</p> +<p class="i6">Lofty secrets are unveiled.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>II.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Leave all commonplace forever,</p> +<p class="i6">Digging deeply, upward soaring;</p> +<p class="i4">For rich Nibelungen-treasures</p> +<p class="i6">Lie all ready for exploring.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">From the mountains we see shining</p> +<p class="i6">Distant seas and shores of beauty;</p> +<p class="i4">While beneath we hear the booming</p> +<p class="i6">Of the gnomes hard at their duty.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Manna-like is spread around us</p> +<p class="i6">Spiritual food abundant;</p> +<p class="i4">And before our vision rises</p> +<p class="i6">The old truth with light redundant--<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">As coarse threads and fine together</p> +<p class="i6">In <i>one</i> net are intertwisting,</p> +<p class="i4">So the same laws are forever</p> +<p class="i6">For the small and great existing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">But a point comes,--sad confession?--</p> +<p class="i6">Where to pause, our thoughts restraining;</p> +<p class="i4">At the limit of perception</p> +<p class="i6">Is mysterious silence reigning.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>III.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Past me wander beings pallid,</p> +<p class="i6">Fill the air with words of anguish:</p> +<p class="i4">All our doings are invalid,</p> +<p class="i6">Sick and old, we slowly languish.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Have you ne'er the wondrous story</p> +<p class="i6">Found in ancient books related,</p> +<p class="i4">Of the spring, wherein the hoary</p> +<p class="i6">Plunged, then rose rejuvenated?<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And this fountain is no fiction,</p> +<p class="i6">Within reach of all 'tis flowing;</p> +<p class="i4">But you've lost the true direction,</p> +<p class="i6">Farther from its traces going.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">In the forests' verdant bowers,</p> +<p class="i6">Where deep calm the soul entrances,</p> +<p class="i4">Where on graceful ferns and flowers</p> +<p class="i6">Elves sweep through their nightly dances:<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">There by stones and moss well hidden,</p> +<p class="i6">Rush the waters from the mountain;</p> +<p class="i4">From Earth's bosom springs unbidden,</p> +<p class="i6">Ever fresh, this magic fountain.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">There with peace the soul is ravished;</p> +<p class="i6">There the mind regains its powers;</p> +<p class="i4">And the wealth of Spring is lavished</p> +<p class="i6">O'er old wounds in blossom-showers.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>IV.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Wilt thou know the world more clearly,</p> +<p class="i6">See then what before thee lies;</p> +<p class="i4">How from matter and from forces</p> +<p class="i6">The whole fabric doth arise.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Of the fixed forms of creation</p> +<p class="i6">Thou the moving cause must see;</p> +<p class="i4">In the changes of phenomena</p> +<p class="i6">Find what lasts eternally.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">In presumptuous opinions</p> +<p class="i6">Fresh pure seeds ne'er germinate;</p> +<p class="i4">By deep meditation only</p> +<p class="i6">Human minds explore, create.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>V.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">With the eagle's piercing sight endowed,</p> +<p class="i6">And the heart with hope o'erflowing,</p> +<p class="i4">I found myself with a mounted crowd</p> +<p class="i6">To thought's fierce battle going.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The banners high, the lance in rest,</p> +<p class="i6">The enemy's ranks were broken.</p> +<p class="i4">On their broad backs, O what a jest,</p> +<p class="i6">To mark a nice blue token!<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">We came at last to the end of our course,</p> +<p class="i6">O'er our failure in knowledge repining;</p> +<p class="i4">Then slowly I turned my gallant horse,</p> +<p class="i6">Myself to silence resigning;<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Too proud to believe--my thoughts all free,--</p> +<p class="i6">To the cave as a refuge flying.</p> +<p class="i4">The world is far too shallow for me,</p> +<p class="i6">The core is deeper lying.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">I for my weapons no longer care,</p> +<p class="i6">In the corner there they lie rusting.</p> +<p class="i4">No priggish fool to provoke me shall dare,</p> +<p class="i6">To my valour alone I am trusting.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">These owls and bats a look alone</p> +<p class="i6">Suffices to abolish;</p> +<p class="i4">Still serveth well an ass's bone,</p> +<p class="i6">The Philistines to demolish.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>VI.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Be proud, and thy lot nobly bear,</p> +<p class="i6">From tears and sighs desisting;</p> +<p class="i4">Like thee will many others fare,</p> +<p class="i6">While thinkers are existing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">There are many problems left unsolved</p> +<p class="i6">By former speculations;</p> +<p class="i4">But when thou art to dust resolved,</p> +<p class="i6">Come other generations.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The wrinkles on thy lofty brow</p> +<p class="i6">Let them go on increasing,</p> +<p class="i4">They are the scars which show us how</p> +<p class="i6">Thought's struggle was unceasing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And if no laurel-crown to thee</p> +<p class="i6">To deck thy brow be given;</p> +<p class="i4">Still be thou proud; thy soul so free</p> +<p class="i6">For thought alone has striven.<p> +</div></div> +<br> + +<br> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<h2><a name="div2_margaretta" href="#div2Ref_margaretta">SOME OF MARGARETTA'S +SONGS</a>.</h2> +<br> +<br> +<h3>I.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">How proud he is and stately!</p> +<p class="i6">How noble is his air!</p> +<p class="i4">A trumpeter he's only,</p> +<p class="i6">Yet I for him do care.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And owned he castles seven,</p> +<p class="i6">He could not look more fair.</p> +<p class="i4">O would to him were given</p> +<p class="i6">Another name to bear!<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Ah, were he but a noble,</p> +<p class="i6">A knight of the Golden Fleece!</p> +<p class="i4">Love, thou art full of trouble,</p> +<p class="i6">Love, thou art full of peace.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>II.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Two days now have passed already,</p> +<p class="i6">Since I gave him that first kiss;</p> +<p class="i4">Ever since that fatal hour</p> +<p class="i6">All with me has gone amiss.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">My dear little room, so pretty,</p> +<p class="i6">Where so nice a life I led,</p> +<p class="i4">Is now in such dire confusion.</p> +<p class="i6">That it almost turns my head.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">My sweet roses and carnations,</p> +<p class="i6">Withered now, for care ye pine!</p> +<p class="i4">Oh, I think, instead of water,</p> +<p class="i6">I have deluged you with wine.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">My dear lovely snow-white pigeon</p> +<p class="i6">Has no water and no bread;</p> +<p class="i4">And the goldfinch in his cage there</p> +<p class="i6">Looks as if he were half dead.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">I am putting blue and red yarn</p> +<p class="i6">In my white net as I knit;</p> +<p class="i4">And I work in my embroidery</p> +<p class="i6">White wool where it doth not fit.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Where are <a name="div1Ref_pg255" href="#div1_pg255">Parcival</a> +and Theuerdank?</p> +<p class="i6">If I only, only knew!</p> +<p class="i4">I believe that I those poets</p> +<p class="i6">In the kitchen-pantry threw.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And the kitchen plates are standing</p> +<p class="i6">On the book-case--what a shame!</p> +<p class="i4">Ah, for all these many blunders</p> +<p class="i6">I my love, my love must blame!<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>III.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Away he is gone in the wide wide world;</p> +<p class="i6">No word of farewell has he spoken.</p> +<p class="i4">Thou fresh young player in wood and mead,</p> +<p class="i4">Thou sun whose light is my daily need,</p> +<p class="i6">When wilt thou send me a token?<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">I hardly had time in his eyes to gaze,</p> +<p class="i6">When the dream already had vanished;</p> +<p class="i4">Oh Love, why dost thou two lovers unite,</p> +<p class="i4">With thy burning torch their hearts ignite,</p> +<p class="i6">When their bliss so soon must be banished?<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And where does he go? The world is so large,</p> +<p class="i6">So full of deep snares for a rover.</p> +<p class="i4">He even may go to Italia, where</p> +<p class="i4">The women, I hear, are so false and so fair!</p> +<p class="i6">May Heaven protect my dear lover.<p> +</div></div> +<br> + +<br> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<h2><a name="div2_5yrlater" href="#div2Ref_5yrlater">FIVE YEARS LATER</a>.</h2> +<br> +<h3>WERNER'S SONGS FROM ITALY.</h3> +<br> +<br> +<h3>I.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Too well were all things going,</p> +<p class="i6">Therefore it could not last;</p> +<p class="i4">My cheeks my grief are showing,</p> +<p class="i6">Misfortune came too fast.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The violet and clover,</p> +<p class="i6">The flowers all are gone.</p> +<p class="i4">'Mid frost and snow, a rover</p> +<p class="i6">I wander sad alone.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Good luck will never favour</p> +<p class="i6">The man who nothing dares;</p> +<p class="i4">But he who does not waver</p> +<p class="i6">The smile of fortune shares.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>II.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">A lonely rock juts upward</p> +<p class="i6">Just by the craggy strand;</p> +<p class="i4">The angry foaming waters</p> +<p class="i6">Have torn it from the land.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Now in green waves half sunken</p> +<p class="i6">Defiantly it lies;</p> +<p class="i4">The snow-white gulls are flying</p> +<p class="i6">Around it with shrill cries.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">There on the heaving billows</p> +<p class="i6">Is dancing a light boat;</p> +<p class="i4">The sounds of plaintive singing</p> +<p class="i6">Up to the lone rock float:<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">"O that I to my country,</p> +<p class="i6">And to my love were borne;</p> +<p class="i4">O home in dear old Rhine-land,</p> +<p class="i6">For thee my heart is torn!"<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>III.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Bewitched I am by the summer night,</p> +<p class="i6">In silent thought I am riding;</p> +<p class="i4">Bright glow-worms through the thicket fly</p> +<p class="i4">Like happy dreams, which in times gone by</p> +<p class="i6">My longing heart were delighting.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Bewitched I am by the summer night.</p> +<p class="i6">In silent thought I am riding;</p> +<p class="i4">The golden stars shine so far and bright,</p> +<p class="i4">In the water's fair bosom is mirrored their light,</p> +<p class="i6">As, in Time's deep sea, love abiding.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Bewitched I am by the summer night,</p> +<p class="i6">In silent thought I am riding;</p> +<p class="i4">The nightingale sings from the myrtle tree,</p> +<p class="i4">He warbles so meltingly, tenderly,</p> +<p class="i6">As if Fate his heart had been blighting.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Bewitched I am by the summer night,</p> +<p class="i6">In silent thought I am riding;</p> +<p class="i4">The sea rises high, the waves do frown;</p> +<p class="i4">Wherefore these useless tears which down</p> +<p class="i6">The rider's wan cheeks are gliding?<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>IV.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">'Neath the waves the sun is going,</p> +<p class="i4">With bright hues the sky is glowing,</p> +<p class="i4">Twilight o'er the earth is stealing,</p> +<p class="i4">Far-off evening bells are pealing:</p> +<p class="i8"> Thee I think of, Margaretta.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">On the rocky crag I'm lying,</p> +<p class="i4">Stranger in a strange land sighing;</p> +<p class="i4">Round my feet the waves are dancing,</p> +<p class="i4">Through my soul float dreams entrancing:</p> +<p class="i8">Thee I think of, Margaretta.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>V.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Oh Roman girl, why lookest thou</p> +<p class="i6">At me with burning glances?</p> +<p class="i4">Thine eye, though beautiful it be,</p> +<p class="i6">The stranger ne'er entrances.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Beyond the Alps there is a grave,</p> +<p class="i6">The Rhine watch o'er it keepeth;</p> +<p class="i4">And three wild roses bloom thereon;</p> +<p class="i6">Therein my love-dream sleepeth.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Oh Roman girl, why lookest thou</p> +<p class="i6">At me with burning glances?</p> +<p class="i4">Thine eye, though beautiful it be,</p> +<p class="i6">The stranger ne'er entrances.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>VI.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Outside the gates when walking,</p> +<p class="i6">I see of life no trace;</p> +<p class="i4">There is the wide-spread graveyard</p> +<p class="i6">Of the ancient Roman race.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">They rest from love and hatred,</p> +<p class="i6">From pleasure, strife, and guilt;</p> +<p class="i4">There in the Appian Way are</p> +<p class="i6">Their tombs of marble built<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">A tower greets me, gilded</p> +<p class="i6">By the setting sun's last rays--</p> +<p class="i4">Cæcilia Metella,</p> +<p class="i6">At thy proud tomb I gaze.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">My eyes are turning northward,</p> +<p class="i6">As 'mid this pile I stand;</p> +<p class="i4">My thoughts are swiftly flying</p> +<p class="i6">Far from this southern land,<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">On to another tower,</p> +<p class="i6">With stones of smaller size;</p> +<p class="i4">By the shady vine-clad window</p> +<p class="i6">I see my love's sweet eyes.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>VII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The world lies now encircled</p> +<p class="i6">By the frosty winter night.</p> +<p class="i4">No use that by the hearth-stone</p> +<p class="i6">I think of love's sad flight.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The logs will soon be burnt out,</p> +<p class="i6">To ashes all will fall;</p> +<p class="i4">The embers will cease glowing,</p> +<p class="i6">That is the end of all.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">It is the same old story,</p> +<p class="i6">I think of nothing more</p> +<p class="i4">But silence and forgetting--</p> +<p class="i6">Forget what I adore?<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>VIII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The crowd it frolics, shouts and sings,</p> +<p class="i6">Disturbs Rome's usual quiet;</p> +<p class="i4">Mad folly high her banner swings,</p> +<p class="i6">And thronging masks run riot.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Now up and down the Corso pace</p> +<p class="i6">Gay coaches 'mid wild showers;</p> +<p class="i4">The Carnival's great sport takes place,</p> +<p class="i6">The fight with chalk and flowers.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Confetti and fair roses fly,</p> +<p class="i6">Bouquets are thickly raining.</p> +<p class="i4">That hit--good luck! how glows her eye!</p> +<p class="i6">Thou art the victory gaining.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And thou, my heart, mirth also show,</p> +<p class="i6">Forget what thou hast suffered;</p> +<p class="i4">Let bygone times and bygone woe</p> +<p class="i6">With flowers sweet be covered.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>IX.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">By the clear green Lake of Nemi</p> +<p class="i6">An old maple-tree doth grow;</p> +<p class="i4">Through its lofty leafy summit</p> +<p class="i6">The breezes sadly blow.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">By the clear green Lake of Nemi</p> +<p class="i6">A young musician lies,</p> +<p class="i4">He hums a song, while many</p> +<p class="i6">Tears glisten in his eyes.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">On the clear green Lake of Nemi</p> +<p class="i6">The waves so gently flow;</p> +<p class="i4">The maple and musician</p> +<p class="i6">Their own minds do not know.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">By the clear green Lake of Nemi</p> +<p class="i6">Is the best inn of the land;</p> +<p class="i4">Praiseworthy macaroni,</p> +<p class="i6">And wine of famous brand.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The maple and musician</p> +<p class="i6">Are crazy both, I think;</p> +<p class="i4">Else they would go there yonder,</p> +<p class="i6">Grow sane by honest drink.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>X.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">My heart is filled with rancour,</p> +<p class="i6">The storm howls all around;</p> +<p class="i4">Thou art the man I want now,</p> +<p class="i6">Thou false Italian hound.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Thy dagger's thrust I parried;</p> +<p class="i6">Now, worthy friend, beware</p> +<p class="i4">How from a German sword's stroke</p> +<p class="i6">Thy Italian skull will fare.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The sun's last rays had vanished</p> +<p class="i6">Far from the Vatican;</p> +<p class="i4">It rose to shine next morning</p> +<p class="i6">Upon a lifeless man.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>XI.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Oh Ponte Molle, thou bridge of renown,</p> +<p class="i4">Near thee many draughts have I swallowed down,</p> +<p class="i6">From bottles in wicker-work braided.</p> +<p class="i4">Oh Ponte Molle, what is the cause</p> +<p class="i4">That I between my glasses now pause,</p> +<p class="i6">Can hardly to drink be persuaded?<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Oh Ponte Molle, 'tis strange in truth,</p> +<p class="i4">That the lovely days of my vanished youth</p> +<p class="i6">And love's old dream are recurring.</p> +<p class="i4">Through the land the hot sirocco blows,</p> +<p class="i4">And within my heart the old flame glows,</p> +<p class="i6">Sweet music within me is stirring.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Oh Tiber-stream, oh St. Peter's dome,</p> +<p class="i4">Oh thou all-powerful ancient Rome,</p> +<p class="i6">Naught care I for all thou containest.</p> +<p class="i4">Where'er in my restless wanderings I rove,</p> +<p class="i4">My gentle and lovely Schwarzwald-love,</p> +<p class="i6">The fairest on earth thou remainest!<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Oh Ponte Molle, how lovely was she!</p> +<p class="i4">And if I thousands of girls should see,</p> +<p class="i6">To love but the one I am willing.</p> +<p class="i4">And if ever thy solid pile should bear</p> +<p class="i4">The weight of her footsteps, I will swear,</p> +<p class="i6">Even thy cold frame would be thrilling.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">But useless the longing and useless the woe,</p> +<p class="i4">The sun is too ardent so far to go,</p> +<p class="i6">And flying is not yet invented.</p> +<p class="i4">Padrone, another bottle of wine!</p> +<p class="i4">This Orvieto so pearly and fine</p> +<p class="i6">Makes even a sad heart contented.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Oh Ponte Molle, thou bridge of renown,</p> +<p class="i4">Hast thou on my head called witchcraft down</p> +<p class="i6">For my love-sick and dreamy talking?</p> +<p class="i4">A cloud of dust whirls up to the sky,</p> +<p class="i4">A herd of oxen now passing by</p> +<p class="i6">Blocks up the way I am walking.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>XII.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>Monte testaccio.</i>)<p> + +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">I do not know what the end will be;</p> +<p class="i6">O'er the low ground spreads the gloaming,</p> +<p class="i4">The ominous bat already I see</p> +<p class="i6">As she starts on her nightly roaming.</p> +<p class="i4">On Ponte Molle all is still,</p> +<p class="i4">I think the good old hostess will</p> +<p class="i6">Very soon the inn be closing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">A little owl I hear there screech</p> +<p class="i6">In the cypress grove 'tis hiding;</p> +<p class="i4">Campagna fogs up there now reach,</p> +<p class="i6">Over gate and city gliding.</p> +<p class="i4">They roll and float like ghostly troops</p> +<p class="i6">Round Cestius' Pyramid in groups;</p> +<p class="i4">What are the dead there wanting?<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Now bursts a light around the hill,</p> +<p class="i6">The leaden gray clouds are fast going;</p> +<p class="i4">The full moon's face rises slow and still,</p> +<p class="i6">With envy's yellow hue glowing.</p> +<p class="i4">She shines so pale, she shines so cold,</p> +<p class="i4">Right into the goblet which I hold;</p> +<p class="i6">That cannot be a good omen.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">He who from his sweetheart is torn away,</p> +<p class="i6">Will love her more dearly than ever;</p> +<p class="i4">And who doth long in the night-air stay,</p> +<p class="i6">Will catch most surely a fever.</p> +<p class="i4">And now the hostess the light puts out,</p> +<p class="i4">Felice notte! I back to her shout;</p> +<p class="i6">The bill I'll settle to-morrow.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>XIII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Awaking from my slumber</p> +<p class="i6">I hear the skylark sing;</p> +<p class="i4">The rosy morning greets me,</p> +<p class="i6">The fresh young day of Spring.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">In the garden waves the palm-tree</p> +<p class="i6">Mysteriously its crown,</p> +<p class="i4">And on the distant sea-shore</p> +<p class="i4">The surf rolls up and down;<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And azure-blue the heavens,</p> +<p class="i6">The golden sun so bright;</p> +<p class="i4">My heart, what more is wanting?</p> +<p class="i6">Chime in with all thy might!<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And now pour out thy praises</p> +<p class="i6">To God, who oft gave proof,</p> +<p class="i4">He never would forsake thee--</p> +<p class="i6">'Tis thou who kept aloof.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<br> +<h3>XIV.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">To serve, to serve! an evil ring,</p> +<p class="i6">Has this word so harsh and frigid;</p> +<p class="i4">My love is gone, my life's sweet Spring;</p> +<p class="i6">My heart, become not rigid.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">My trumpet looks so sad to-day,</p> +<p class="i6">With crape around it winding;</p> +<p class="i4">In a cage they put the player gay,</p> +<p class="i6">Lay on him fetters binding.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Deep grief and pain infest his way,</p> +<p class="i6">His heart with arrows stinging;</p> +<p class="i4">For his daily bread he has to play,</p> +<p class="i6">He can no more be singing.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Who on the Rhine sang to his lyre.</p> +<p class="i6">Of all save joy unheeding,</p> +<p class="i4">Is now--sad fate--the Pope's great choir</p> +<p class="i6">In the Sistine Chapel leading.<p> +</div></div> +<br> + +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_pt15" href="#div1Ref_pt15">FIFTEENTH PART.</a></h2> +<div class="poem"> +<h3>THE MEETING IN ROME.</h3> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Scorching lay the heat of summer</p> +<p class="i4">Over Rome, th' Eternal City;</p> +<p class="i4">Sluggishly his yellow waters</p> +<p class="i4">Rolls the Tiber, rolls them seaward,</p> +<p class="i4">Through the sultry air; however,</p> +<p class="i4">Not so much from choice, but rather</p> +<p class="i4">From a sense of duty, knowing</p> +<p class="i4">That it is a river's business.</p> +<p class="i4">Deep down at the river's bottom,</p> +<p class="i4">Sat old Tiber, and he muttered:<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Oh how slowly time is dragging!</p> +<p class="i4">I am weary! Would the end were</p> +<p class="i4">Of this dull monotonous motion!</p> +<p class="i4">Will no storm ere raise a flood-tide,</p> +<p class="i4">To engulf this little country,</p> +<p class="i4">And drag all the brooks and rivers,</p> +<p class="i4">Also me--the river veteran--</p> +<p class="i4">And embrace us all together</p> +<p class="i4">In the ocean's mighty bosom?</p> +<p class="i4">E'en to wash the walls forever</p> +<p class="i4">Of old Rome I find most tedious.</p> +<p class="i4">And what matter that this region</p> +<p class="i4">And myself are held as classic?</p> +<p class="i4">Vanished, turned to dust and ashes,</p> +<p class="i4">Are those genial Roman poets,</p> +<p class="i4">Who, their brows adorned with laurel,</p> +<p class="i4">And their hearts imbued with rhythm,</p> +<p class="i4">Formerly have sung my praises.</p> +<p class="i4">Then came others, long since vanished,</p> +<p class="i4">Others followed in their stead, like</p> +<p class="i4">Pictures in a magic lantern.</p> +<p class="i4">Well! to me 'tis all the same, if</p> +<p class="i4">Only they would not disturb me.</p> +<p class="i4">Oh what have these busy mortals</p> +<p class="i4">Thrown into my quiet waters,</p> +<p class="i4">Quite regardless of my comfort!</p> +<p class="i4">Where my nymphs with sacred rushes</p> +<p class="i4">Had arranged for me a pillow,</p> +<p class="i4">For my usual siesta,</p> +<p class="i4">There now lie great heaps of rubbish,</p> +<p class="i4">Roman helmets, Gaulish weapons,</p> +<p class="i4">Old utensils of Etruria,</p> +<p class="i4">And the lovely marble statues</p> +<p class="i4">Which once from the tomb of Hadrian</p> +<p class="i4">Down upon thick-headed Goths fell;</p> +<p class="i4">And the bones all mixed together</p> +<p class="i4">Of defenders and aggressors;</p> +<p class="i4">Just as if my river-bed were</p> +<p class="i4">An historic lumber chamber.</p> +<p class="i4">Oh how sick I am and weary!</p> +<p class="i4">Worn-out world, when wilt thou die?"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Whilst now thus the worthy Tiber</p> +<p class="i4">Gave full vent unto his anger</p> +<p class="i4">By this discontented grumbling,</p> +<p class="i4">There above gay life was surging,</p> +<p class="i4">And arrayed in festal garments</p> +<p class="i4">Crowds went toward the Vatican.</p> +<p class="i4">On St. Angelo's Bridge was hardly</p> +<p class="i4">Room enough for all the passers.</p> +<p class="i4">Crowding came in Spanish mantles,</p> +<p class="i4">Wigs and swords, the grand Signori;</p> +<p class="i4">Then some black Franciscan friars,</p> +<p class="i4">Also Capuchins, and common</p> +<p class="i4">Roman burghers. Here and there a</p> +<p class="i4">Sun-burnt and wild-looking shepherd</p> +<p class="i4">Of the near Campagna wore with</p> +<p class="i4">Classic grace his tattered garment;</p> +<p class="i4">And among them, with light footsteps,</p> +<p class="i4">Walked the lovely Roman maidens,</p> +<p class="i4">With black veils, although this covering</p> +<p class="i4">Did not hide their fervent glances.</p> +<p class="i4">(O how can the glowing sunshine,</p> +<p class="i4">Even when its rays are gathered</p> +<p class="i4">By adepts in their reflectors,</p> +<p class="i4">E'er compare with Roman glances?</p> +<p class="i4">Heart which felt their flames, be silent!)<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">From the castle of St. Angelo</p> +<p class="i4">Flutter gaily many banners,</p> +<p class="i4">Bearing all the Pope's insignia,</p> +<p class="i4">Both the mitre and the crossed keys,</p> +<p class="i4">Giving notice of the feast-day</p> +<p class="i4">Kept in honour of St. Peter.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">There before the proud cathedral</p> +<p class="i4">Were the sparkling fountains playing;</p> +<p class="i4">Through the spray the vivid rainbow</p> +<p class="i4">Glitters o'er the granite basins.</p> +<p class="i4">And the obelisk gigantic</p> +<p class="i4">Of Rameses, King of Egypt,</p> +<p class="i4">Looked upon the crowd of people,</p> +<p class="i4">In his native tongue lamenting:</p> +<p class="i6">"Most perplexing are these Romans!</p> +<p class="i4">In the time of Nero hardly</p> +<p class="i4">Did I comprehend their doings;</p> +<p class="i4">Now still less I understand them.</p> +<p class="i4">But this much I have discovered,</p> +<p class="i4">That the climate here is chilly.</p> +<p class="i4">Amun-Rè, thou god of sunlight,</p> +<p class="i4">Take me home to my old friends there,</p> +<p class="i4">To the Sphinx, and let me once more</p> +<p class="i4">Hear the prayer of Memnon's column</p> +<p class="i4">Through the glowing desert ringing!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">On the broad steps of the Vatican</p> +<p class="i4">And beneath the marble columns</p> +<p class="i4">Tall Swiss halberdiers are walking</p> +<p class="i4">To and fro in keeping watch there.</p> +<p class="i4">Clanging through the hall the echo</p> +<p class="i4">Of their heavy tread is ringing.</p> +<p class="i4">To the gray old corporal turning</p> +<p class="i4">Speaks a youthful soldier sadly:</p> +<p class="i6">"Fine, indeed, and proud we Swiss are,</p> +<p class="i4">And I see no other soldiers</p> +<p class="i4">In the streets of Rome as jaunty</p> +<p class="i4">As we look with our cuirasses,</p> +<p class="i4">In the black, red, yellow doublet.</p> +<p class="i4">Many burning glances shyly</p> +<p class="i4">From the windows fall upon us;</p> +<p class="i4">But the heart is wildly yearning</p> +<p class="i4">Homeward, homeward for the mountains,</p> +<p class="i4"><a name="div1Ref_pg277" href="#div1_pg277">As at Strasburg on +the bulwarks</a></p> +<p class="i4">When the Alpine horn was blowing.</p> +<p class="i4">Willingly would I give up all,</p> +<p class="i4">Earnest money, silver scudi,</p> +<p class="i4">E'en the Holy Father's blessing,</p> +<p class="i4">E'en the wine of Orvieto</p> +<p class="i4">Which pearls sweetly in the goblet,</p> +<p class="i4">Could I once again be chasing</p> +<p class="i4">Boldly on their tracks the chamois</p> +<p class="i4">O'er the rocks, near avalanches,</p> +<p class="i4">On the craggy steep Pilatus;</p> +<p class="i4">Or steal gently in the moonlight</p> +<p class="i4">Over fragrant Alpine meadows</p> +<p class="i4">To the faintly-lighted cottage,</p> +<p class="i4">To the dairy-maid, the light-haired</p> +<p class="i4">Kunigund of Appenzell;</p> +<p class="i4">And then greet the golden sunrise</p> +<p class="i4">With a joyful heartfelt jodel.</p> +<p class="i4">Oh Saint Peter, thy fine music</p> +<p class="i4">I should miss without regretting,</p> +<p class="i4">Could I hear again the well-known</p> +<p class="i4">Sharp shrill whistle of the marmot</p> +<p class="i4">In its lonely Alpine cave!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">On the steps of the cathedral</p> +<p class="i4">Stood in crowds close packed together</p> +<p class="i4">Elegant and idle dandies,</p> +<p class="i4">Holding muster over all the</p> +<p class="i4">Carriages and great state coaches</p> +<p class="i4">Which came quickly driving up there.</p> +<p class="i6">"Do you see the Eminenza</p> +<p class="i4">With that round face like the full moon,</p> +<p class="i4">With the double chin, he's leaning</p> +<p class="i4">On the servant in rich livery?</p> +<p class="i4">'Tis the <a name="div1Ref_pg278" href="#div1_pg278">Cardinal +Borghese</a>.</p> +<p class="i4">He would rather now be sitting</p> +<p class="i4">Quiet in the Sabine mountains</p> +<p class="i4">In the airy villa by the</p> +<p class="i4">Rural beauty Donna Baldi.</p> +<p class="i4">He's a man of taste, a scholar,</p> +<p class="i4">Loves the classics, and especially</p> +<p class="i4">Doth he love the true Bucolic."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Who is that?" now asked another,</p> +<p class="i4">"That imposing-looking person?</p> +<p class="i4">Don't you see there what a splendid</p> +<p class="i4">Chain of honour he is wearing;</p> +<p class="i4">How he shakes his periwig now</p> +<p class="i4">Like th' Olympian Jupiter?"</p> +<p class="i4">"What, you do not known him?" answered</p> +<p class="i4">Then loquaciously another,</p> +<p class="i4">"Him, the Chevalier Bernini?</p> +<p class="i4">Who has just restored the Pantheon,</p> +<p class="i4">Who upon St. Peter's also</p> +<p class="i4">Has bestowed such rich adornments,</p> +<p class="i4">And the golden tabernacle</p> +<p class="i4">Built o'er Peter's grave, which cost more</p> +<p class="i4">Than a hundred thousand scudi.</p> +<p class="i4">Take your hat off! Since the world was,</p> +<p class="i4">Has she seen no greater master,</p> +<p class="i4">Nor--" He was then interrupted</p> +<p class="i4">By a man with gray moustaches,</p> +<p class="i4">Who his shoulder tapped and scornful</p> +<p class="i4">Said: "You are mistaken; never</p> +<p class="i4">Saw the world a greater bungler!</p> +<p class="i4">I say this, Salvator Rosa."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Coaches come, in front postilions;</p> +<p class="i4">Splendid uniforms are glittering</p> +<p class="i4">And with retinue attended</p> +<p class="i4">Steps an aged lady onward</p> +<p class="i4">To the portal of the Dome.</p> +<p class="i6">"How she's fading," said then someone,</p> +<p class="i4">"The illustrious Queen of Sweden!</p> +<p class="i4">Do you still recall her lovely</p> +<p class="i4">Looks when first she made her entrance?</p> +<p class="i4">Then the Gate del Popolo looked</p> +<p class="i4">Just as if built out of flowers;</p> +<p class="i4">And as far as Ponte Molle</p> +<p class="i4">Came the Romans out to greet her.</p> +<p class="i4">Down the long street of the Corso</p> +<p class="i4">Unto the Venetian Palace</p> +<p class="i4">Were the shouts of joy unending.</p> +<p class="i4">Do you see that little hunchback</p> +<p class="i4">Standing there, who now is sneezing?</p> +<p class="i4">He stands high in grace and favour</p> +<p class="i4">As one of the queen's attendants.</p> +<p class="i4">He's a scholar of deep learning,</p> +<p class="i4">The philologist Naudaeus.</p> +<p class="i4">He knows everything that happened,</p> +<p class="i4">And sometime ago he even,</p> +<p class="i4">Over there at Prince Corsini's,</p> +<p class="i4">Danced an ancient Saltarello</p> +<p class="i4">To instruct the royal party,</p> +<p class="i4">Whose loud laughter was heard plainly</p> +<p class="i4">Even far off by the Tiber."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">In the throng now quite unnoticed</p> +<p class="i4">Came a heavy lumbering carriage;</p> +<p class="i4">In it were two black-robed ladies;</p> +<p class="i4">On the box sat worthy Anton</p> +<p class="i4">As their coachman, calling loudly:</p> +<p class="i4">"Room ye people for the gracious</p> +<p class="i4">Lady Abbess and my mistress!"</p> +<p class="i4">Called in German, which roused laughter.</p> +<p class="i4">With bewildered eyes he looked round</p> +<p class="i4">At the foreign scene, and just then</p> +<p class="i4">Passing by the queen's attendants,</p> +<p class="i4">He beheld a gray old coachman,</p> +<p class="i4">And he muttered from his coach-box:</p> +<p class="i4">"Don't I know thee, Swedish rascal?</p> +<p class="i4">Didst thou not belong once to the</p> +<p class="i4">Regiment of Sudermanland?</p> +<p class="i4">Do you now expect my thanks here</p> +<p class="i4">For the cut you had the kindness</p> +<p class="i4">To bestow upon my arm once</p> +<p class="i4">In the fight at Nuremberg?</p> +<p class="i4">A most marvellous place is truly</p> +<p class="i4">This old Rome, for long-forgotten</p> +<p class="i4">Friends and foes meet here again!"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">On the classic soil of Italy</p> +<p class="i4">Now my song greets Margaretta.</p> +<p class="i4">Gladly would it strew its fairest</p> +<p class="i4">Blossoms on the path to welcome</p> +<p class="i4">And to cheer this pallid maiden,</p> +<p class="i4">So that smiles might light her features;</p> +<p class="i4">For, since Werner left the castle,</p> +<p class="i4">Pleasure had become a stranger.</p> +<p class="i4">Only once they saw her laughing,</p> +<p class="i4">When the Suabian younker came there;</p> +<p class="i4">But it was a bitter laughter,</p> +<p class="i4">Harsh, discordant as a string sounds</p> +<p class="i4">On a mandolin when snapping;</p> +<p class="i4">And the younker then returned thence</p> +<p class="i4">Single, as from home he started.</p> +<p class="i4">Silently the maiden sorrowed</p> +<p class="i4">As the months and years sped onward;</p> +<p class="i4">Till at last the Princess Abbess,</p> +<p class="i4">Filled with pity, told the Baron:</p> +<p class="i4">"On our soil your child no longer</p> +<p class="i4">Thrives as heretofore, but slowly</p> +<p class="i4">Her poor heart from grief is withering.</p> +<p class="i4">Change of air oft worketh wonders.</p> +<p class="i4">Let me take then Margaretta</p> +<p class="i4">With me to the Holy City,</p> +<p class="i4">Where in spite of age I'm going;</p> +<p class="i4">For, in Chur the wicked bishop</p> +<p class="i4">Threatens to deprive our convent</p> +<p class="i4">Of our fairest Swiss possessions,</p> +<p class="i4">And I shall complain of him there,</p> +<p class="i4">Saying to the Holy Father:</p> +<p class="i4">'Show me mercy, justly punish</p> +<p class="i4">The harsh bishop of the Grisons.'"</p> +<p class="i4">Said the Baron: "Take her with you;</p> +<p class="i4">And may Heaven grant its blessing,</p> +<p class="i4">That you may bring back my daughter</p> +<p class="i4">Rosy-cheeked and happy-hearted."</p> +<p class="i4">Thus to Italy they travelled</p> +<p class="i4">With old Anton as their coachman.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Now the carriage-door he opened,</p> +<p class="i4">And alighting, the old Abbess,</p> +<p class="i4">Followed by fair Margaretta,</p> +<p class="i4">Walked up to the church and entered.</p> +<p class="i4">Margaretta gazed in wonder</p> +<p class="i4">At the vastness of the building,</p> +<p class="i4">Where man seems reduced to nothing;</p> +<p class="i4">At the giant marble columns,</p> +<p class="i4">And the dome with gold overladen.</p> +<p class="i4">In the niche of the great nave stands</p> +<p class="i4">The bronze statue of St. Peter,</p> +<p class="i4">Which this day in papal vestments</p> +<p class="i4">Was arrayed, the gold brocade robe</p> +<p class="i4">Hanging stiffly on the statue;</p> +<p class="i4">On the head the Bishop's mitre.</p> +<p class="i4">And they saw how many people</p> +<p class="i4">Kissed the foot of this bronze statue.</p> +<p class="i4">Then a papal chamberlain led</p> +<p class="i4">Both the German ladies forward</p> +<p class="i4">To a seat close by the altar,</p> +<p class="i4">Place of honour kept for strangers.</p> +<p class="i6">Now was heard the sound of music;</p> +<p class="i4">And the Holy Father coming</p> +<p class="i4">Through the side-door from the Vatican</p> +<p class="i4">Made his entrance to St. Peter's.</p> +<p class="i4">Stout Swiss halberdiers were marching</p> +<p class="i4">At the head of the procession,</p> +<p class="i4">Followed by the celebrated</p> +<p class="i4">Singers of the papal choir.</p> +<p class="i4">Heavy music-books were carried</p> +<p class="i4">By the choristers, some hardly</p> +<p class="i4">Strong enough to bear the folios.</p> +<p class="i4">Then there came in motley order</p> +<p class="i4">Monsignori robed in violet;</p> +<p class="i4">Abbots followed then and prelates,</p> +<p class="i4">And the canons of St. Peter's,</p> +<p class="i4">Heavy looking, their fat figures</p> +<p class="i4">Corresponding to their livings.</p> +<p class="i4">Leaning on his staff the General</p> +<p class="i4">Of the Capuchins walked slowly</p> +<p class="i4">For a load of more than ninety</p> +<p class="i4">Years was resting on his shoulders;</p> +<p class="i4">But his brain was working out still</p> +<p class="i4">Many plans with youthful vigour.</p> +<p class="i4">With Franciscans from the cloister</p> +<p class="i4">Ara c[oe]li also came the</p> +<p class="i4">Prior of Pallazuola.</p> +<p class="i4">By the shores of Lake Albano,</p> +<p class="i4">'Neath the shade of Monte Cavo,</p> +<p class="i4">Stands his little monastery,</p> +<p class="i4">Peaceful spot for idle dreamers.</p> +<p class="i4">On he walked in deep thought buried;</p> +<p class="i4">And who knows wherefore his mutterings</p> +<p class="i4">Did not sound like prayer, but more like</p> +<p class="i4">"Fare-thee-well, Amalia."</p> +<p class="i4">After them the choicest portion,</p> +<p class="i4">All the cardinals, were walking,</p> +<p class="i4">Their long robes of scarlet colour</p> +<p class="i4">On the marble pavement trailing.</p> +<p class="i4">"Heart, be patient," so was thinking</p> +<p class="i4"><a name="div1Ref_pg285" href="#div1_pg285">Cardinal di +Ottoboni</a>;</p> +<p class="i4">"Now I'm second to the Pope yet,</p> +<p class="i4">But in seven years most likely</p> +<p class="i4">I shall mount St Peter's chair."</p> +<p class="i4">Then a train of cavaliers came</p> +<p class="i4">With their shining swords, and followed</p> +<p class="i4">In strict military order;</p> +<p class="i4">'Twas the Pope's own guard of honour.</p> +<p class="i4">And at last the Holy Father</p> +<p class="i4">Made his entrance, being carried</p> +<p class="i4">On a throne by eight strong bearers.</p> +<p class="i4">O'er his head were held by pages</p> +<p class="i4">The great fans of peacock-feathers.</p> +<p class="i4">Snow-white were his festal garments;</p> +<p class="i4">And his right hand, raised in blessing,</p> +<p class="i4">Wore the signet-ring of Peter.</p> +<p class="i4">Low the crowd knelt down in silence.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">At the foot of the High Altar</p> +<p class="i4">The procession had arrived now,</p> +<p class="i4">And the Pope held solemn service</p> +<p class="i4">Over the Apostle's grave.</p> +<p class="i4">Solemnly and gravely sounded</p> +<p class="i4">The peculiar choral measures</p> +<p class="i4">Which old Master Palestrina</p> +<p class="i4">Had in his strict style composed.</p> +<p class="i4">And the aged Lady Abbess</p> +<p class="i4">Prayed with fervent deep devotion.</p> +<p class="i4">But fair Margaretta's glances</p> +<p class="i4">Were directed up to heaven,</p> +<p class="i4">Whence these solemn strains of music</p> +<p class="i4">Seemed to her to be descending.</p> +<p class="i4">But her eye was then attracted</p> +<p class="i4">To the singers' box--she trembled:</p> +<p class="i4">For, amid the group of singers,</p> +<p class="i4">Though half hidden by a column,</p> +<p class="i4">Stood a stately light-haired figure.</p> +<p class="i4">And again she looked now upward;</p> +<p class="i4">From her sight the Pope had vanished,</p> +<p class="i4">All the Cardinals had vanished,</p> +<p class="i4">Likewise all the nine-and-eighty</p> +<p class="i4">Burning lamps o'er Peter's grave.</p> +<p class="i4">"My old dream, dost thou return then?</p> +<p class="i4">My old dream, why dost thou haunt me</p> +<p class="i4">Even in these sacred precincts?"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">The last notes had died out softly,</p> +<p class="i4">And the Holy Mass was ended.</p> +<p class="i4">"Oh how pale you look, dear lady!"</p> +<p class="i4">Said the aged Lady Abbess.</p> +<p class="i4">"Take my vial, it will help you,</p> +<p class="i4">It contains the finest essence</p> +<p class="i4">Which I bought myself in Florence</p> +<p class="i4">At the cloister of San Marco."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">The procession of the singers</p> +<p class="i4">Passed just then before the ladies.</p> +<p class="i4">"God in heaven! oh have mercy!</p> +<p class="i4">Yes, 'tis he! I know the scar there</p> +<p class="i4">On his brow--it is my Werner!"</p> +<p class="i4">Dark before her eyes it grew now,</p> +<p class="i4">And her heart was beating wildly.</p> +<p class="i4">No more could her feet support her,</p> +<p class="i4">And the maiden sank down fainting</p> +<p class="i4">On the hard cold floor of marble.<p> +</div></div> +<br> + +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_pt16" href="#div1Ref_pt16">SIXTEENTH PART.</a></h2> +<div class="poem"> +<h3>SOLUTION AND END.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + +<p class="i4">Innocentius the Eleventh</p> +<p class="i4">Was kind-hearted; and his dinner</p> +<p class="i4">He had just now greatly relished.</p> +<p class="i4">At dessert he still was sitting,</p> +<p class="i4">And while luscious fruit enjoying,</p> +<p class="i4">Said to Cardinal Albani:</p> +<p class="i6">"Who was that young pallid lady,</p> +<p class="i4">Who this morning in St. Peter's</p> +<p class="i4">Fell upon the floor and fainted?"</p> +<p class="i4">Answered Cardinal Albani:</p> +<p class="i4">"On this subject just at present</p> +<p class="i4">I can give no information;</p> +<p class="i4">But the Monsignor Venusto</p> +<p class="i4">I will ask, for he knows always</p> +<p class="i4">What in Rome is daily happening;</p> +<p class="i4">Knows what in salons is gossiped,</p> +<p class="i4">What the senators are doing,</p> +<p class="i4">What is drunk by Flemish artists,</p> +<p class="i4">What is sung by Prima Donnas,</p> +<p class="i4">Even what the puppet-show is</p> +<p class="i4">Playing on the Square Navona.</p> +<p class="i4">There is naught the Monsignore</p> +<p class="i4">Can't unravel and discover."</p> +<p class="i4">E'en before was served the coffee</p> +<p class="i4">(At that time this was a novel</p> +<p class="i4">Beverage and rarely taken,</p> +<p class="i4">Only on the highest feast-days)</p> +<p class="i4">Had the Cardinal already</p> +<p class="i4">Learnt the facts. He thus related:</p> +<p class="i6">"This pale maiden is a noble</p> +<p class="i4">Lady, who has travelled hither</p> +<p class="i4">With that German Princess Abbess;</p> +<p class="i4">And she saw--most marvellously--</p> +<p class="i4">In the church a man this morning,</p> +<p class="i4">Whom she once had lost her heart with,</p> +<p class="i4">And whom, still more marvellously,</p> +<p class="i4">She unto this day is loving,</p> +<p class="i4">Notwithstanding and in spite of</p> +<p class="i4">Want of noble birth and titles,</p> +<p class="i4">And her father's stem refusal.</p> +<p class="i4">And the cause of this her fainting</p> +<p class="i4">Is, again most marvellously,</p> +<p class="i4">No one else but Signor Werner,</p> +<p class="i4">Chapel-master to your Holiness.</p> +<p class="i4">This the Monsignor Venusto</p> +<p class="i4">Heard to-day, when on a visit</p> +<p class="i4">To the Abbess who related</p> +<p class="i4">Confidentially these facts."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Then the Pope said: "This is truly</p> +<p class="i4">A most strange and touching meeting.</p> +<p class="i4">Were the subject not too modern,</p> +<p class="i4">And the actors of the drama</p> +<p class="i4">Not such semi-barbarous Germans,</p> +<p class="i4">Then some poet might win laurels</p> +<p class="i4">In the sweet groves of Arcadia,</p> +<p class="i4">Should he sing this wondrous meeting.</p> +<p class="i4">But I truly take an interest</p> +<p class="i4">In the grave young Signor Werner.</p> +<p class="i4">Greatly has improved the singing</p> +<p class="i4">Of my choir, since he leads it,</p> +<p class="i4">And the taste for solemn music;</p> +<p class="i4">While my own Italian singers</p> +<p class="i4">Care too much for operatic</p> +<p class="i4">Tunes of lighter character.</p> +<p class="i4">Quietly he does his duty,</p> +<p class="i4">Of his own accord ne'er speaking;</p> +<p class="i4">Never begs of me a favour;</p> +<p class="i4">Never was his hand extended</p> +<p class="i4">To receive the gifts of bribery.</p> +<p class="i4">Yet examples of corruption</p> +<p class="i4">Are more frequent with us, surely,</p> +<p class="i4">Than the fleas in sultry summer.</p> +<p class="i4">Monsignor Venusto knows this!</p> +<p class="i4">Seems to me that this grave German</p> +<p class="i4">Is consumed by secret sorrow.</p> +<p class="i4">I should really like to know now,</p> +<p class="i4">If he's thinking of his love yet?"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Said the Cardinal Albani:</p> +<p class="i4">"I well-nigh may answer for this.</p> +<p class="i4">In the books kept on the conduct</p> +<p class="i4">Of all high and low officials</p> +<p class="i4">In the State and Church departments,</p> +<p class="i4">It is mentioned as a wonder</p> +<p class="i4">That he strictly shuns all women.</p> +<p class="i4">First we nourished a suspicion</p> +<p class="i4">That his heart had fallen victim</p> +<p class="i4">To the charms of the fair hostess</p> +<p class="i4">Of the inn near Vale Egeria.</p> +<p class="i4">He was seen each evening strolling</p> +<p class="i4">Through the Porta Sebastiano,</p> +<p class="i4">And outside there is no dwelling</p> +<p class="i4">But the tavern just now mentioned.</p> +<p class="i4">Thus such nightly promenading</p> +<p class="i4">Of one yet in early manhood</p> +<p class="i4">Could not but arouse suspicion.</p> +<p class="i4">Therefore we once sent two persons</p> +<p class="i4">Carefully to track his footsteps,</p> +<p class="i4">But they found him 'mid the ruined</p> +<p class="i4">Tombs along the Appian Way.</p> +<p class="i6">There had once a great patrician</p> +<p class="i4">Built a tomb to his freed woman,</p> +<p class="i4">Whom he'd brought as a remembrance</p> +<p class="i4">From Judæa, at the time of</p> +<p class="i4">The destruction of the Temple.</p> +<p class="i4">She was called Zatcha Achyba.</p> +<p class="i4">There he sat, the spies related;</p> +<p class="i4">'Twas a subject for an artist:</p> +<p class="i4">The Campagna's sombre landscape;</p> +<p class="i4">Moonlight on the marble tombstone;</p> +<p class="i4">He his mantle wrapped around him;</p> +<p class="i4">Mournfully he blew his trumpet</p> +<p class="i4">Through the gloomy lonely silence.</p> +<p class="i4">This had brought upon him later</p> +<p class="i4">Many mocking jeers like this one:</p> +<p class="i6">'Signor Werner is composing</p> +<p class="i4">For the Jewess there a requiem.'"<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">At this smiled the Holy Father,</p> +<p class="i4">And the Cardinals did likewise;</p> +<p class="i4">Following these high examples,</p> +<p class="i4">All the chamberlains smiled also;</p> +<p class="i4">Even Carlo Dolci's features</p> +<p class="i4">Now relaxed their gloomy sadness.</p> +<p class="i4">And the Pope said: "We must all have</p> +<p class="i4">Great respect for this young German.</p> +<p class="i4">It were well if many others</p> +<p class="i4">Who at night away are stealing,</p> +<p class="i4">To the Appian Way were going.</p> +<p class="i4">Signor Werner, I assure you,</p> +<p class="i4">Stands most high in my good graces,</p> +<p class="i4">And to-morrow he shall see it;</p> +<p class="i4">For, I recollect, I've granted</p> +<p class="i4">Then an audience to the Abbess."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">On the first day of July in</p> +<p class="i4">Sixteen hundred seventy-nine, there</p> +<p class="i4">Rose the sun with special glory.</p> +<p class="i4">Cooling blew the tramontana</p> +<p class="i4">Through the cypresses and myrtles</p> +<p class="i4">In the Vatican's fair garden;</p> +<p class="i4">And the half-parched flowers gladly</p> +<p class="i4">Raised their heads, breathed out fresh fragrance,</p> +<p class="i4">O'er the bronze gigantic pine-cone,--</p> +<p class="i4">Which once Hadrian's museum</p> +<p class="i4">Had adorned, and now was living</p> +<p class="i4">'Mid the jessamines and roses,</p> +<p class="i4">As a pensioner contented,--</p> +<p class="i4">Lively lizards swiftly glided,</p> +<p class="i4">Snapping at the tiny insects</p> +<p class="i4">Ever dancing in the sunshine.</p> +<p class="i4">Fountains played, and birds were singing;</p> +<p class="i4">E'en the pale old marble statues</p> +<p class="i4">With warm life became imbued.</p> +<p class="i4">And the satyr, with his reed flute,</p> +<p class="i4">Raised his foot as if intending</p> +<p class="i4">To go dancing round the garden;</p> +<p class="i4">But Apollo's hand waved warning:</p> +<p class="i4">"Friend, those times have passed forever;</p> +<p class="i4">Thou wouldst only raise a scandal."</p> +<p class="i4">Bathed in sunlight, Rome looks smiling</p> +<p class="i4">O'er the river at the Vatican;</p> +<p class="i4">From the sea of houses, churches,</p> +<p class="i4">And fair palaces, the Quirinal</p> +<p class="i4">Proudly rises; in the distance</p> +<p class="i4">Towers up the Capitolium</p> +<p class="i4">In the violet autumn haze.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Through the Boscareccio's verdant</p> +<p class="i4">Alleys swept the shining white robe</p> +<p class="i4">Of His Holiness, who kindly</p> +<p class="i4">To the Abbess and the maiden</p> +<p class="i4">Here had granted audience.</p> +<p class="i4">And the Abbess gained assurance,</p> +<p class="i4">That her lawsuit would be taken</p> +<p class="i4">Into prompt consideration.</p> +<p class="i4">Then to Margaretta turning.</p> +<p class="i4">Said the Pope: "None of the pilgrims</p> +<p class="i4">Ever leave Rome without comfort;</p> +<p class="i4">So I, as the soul's physician,</p> +<p class="i4">Must prevent another fainting."</p> +<p class="i4">And he whispered to a servant:</p> +<p class="i4">"Go and fetch the chapel-master."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Werner came: to stately manhood</p> +<p class="i4">In this southern clime he'd ripened</p> +<p class="i4">Since he left, a hopeless suitor,</p> +<p class="i4">The old castle in the Rhine-land.</p> +<p class="i4">Life's wild whirlpool, since that morning,</p> +<p class="i4">Had well tossed him hither thither.</p> +<p class="i4">Willingly I would relate here,</p> +<p class="i4">How he went to many countries;</p> +<p class="i4">How o'er land and sea he travelled;</p> +<p class="i4">How he with the Knights of Malta</p> +<p class="i4">Cruised against the Turkish corsairs;</p> +<p class="i4">Till at last a fate mysterious</p> +<p class="i4">Unto Rome had duly brought him.</p> +<p class="i4">But my song becomes impatient;</p> +<p class="i4">Like a driver who is snapping</p> +<p class="i4">At the door his whip, 'tis calling:</p> +<p class="i4">"Onward! On to the conclusion!"</p> +<p class="i4">Werner came; bewildered gazed he</p> +<p class="i4">Twice, yes thrice, at Margaretta,</p> +<p class="i4">Gazed at her in utter silence;</p> +<p class="i4">But his glances did express more</p> +<p class="i4">Than a printed folio volume.</p> +<p class="i4">'Twas the glance with which Ulysses</p> +<p class="i4">Sitting by the suitors' corpses</p> +<p class="i4">Gazed upon his consort, from whom</p> +<p class="i4">He by twenty years of wandering</p> +<p class="i4">And of suffering had been parted.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Innocentius the Eleventh</p> +<p class="i4">Was kind-hearted, a discerner</p> +<p class="i4">Of men's hearts. Most kindly said he:</p> +<p class="i6">"Those whom Providence united</p> +<p class="i4">In His goodness and His wisdom,</p> +<p class="i4">Shall no more be separated.</p> +<p class="i4">Yesterday when in St. Peter's,</p> +<p class="i4">And to-day here in the garden,</p> +<p class="i4">I have come to the conviction,</p> +<p class="i4">That there is a case here waiting</p> +<p class="i4">For my papal interference.</p> +<p class="i6">"'Tis indeed a mighty power</p> +<p class="i4">Love, a power all subduing;</p> +<p class="i4">Than light even more ethereal,</p> +<p class="i4">Doth it penetrate all barriers,</p> +<p class="i4">And the chair of Peter also</p> +<p class="i4">Is not safe from its invasion</p> +<p class="i4">When it asks us for our help.</p> +<p class="i6">"But it is a pleasant duty</p> +<p class="i4">Of the head of Christendom,</p> +<p class="i4">To make smooth the path of lovers,</p> +<p class="i4">Every obstacle removing,</p> +<p class="i4">That true love may be victorious.</p> +<p class="i4">And of all the various nations,</p> +<p class="i4">'Tis the Germans who beyond all</p> +<p class="i4">Keep us busy with such matters.</p> +<p class="i4">So the Count of Gleichen brought here</p> +<p class="i4">With him a fair Turkish consort</p> +<p class="i4">From the Holy Land, though knowing</p> +<p class="i4">His own consort still was living.</p> +<p class="i4">And our annals make full mention</p> +<p class="i4">Of our predecessor's troubles</p> +<p class="i4">Brought about by this wild action.</p> +<p class="i4">So likewise the most unhappy</p> +<p class="i4">Of all knights came here, Tannhauser:</p> +<p class="i6">"'Pope Urbano, Pope Urbano,</p> +<p class="i4">Heal the sick man held as captive</p> +<p class="i4">Seven years within the mountain</p> +<p class="i4">Of the wicked goddess Venus!'</p> +<p class="i4">But to-day the case is different</p> +<p class="i4">And more pleasing; there is nothing</p> +<p class="i4">Which conflicts with any canon.</p> +<p class="i4">There is only a slight scruple--</p> +<p class="i4">If I've heard right--with the Baron.</p> +<p class="i4">You, my Werner, have been faithful,</p> +<p class="i4">But I read 'neath all this quiet</p> +<p class="i4">Resignation to your duty,</p> +<p class="i4">That reluctantly you sang here,</p> +<p class="i4">As a caged-up bird is singing.</p> +<p class="i4">Oft you've asked for your dismission,</p> +<p class="i4">Which I ever did deny you,</p> +<p class="i4">And to-day would never grant you,</p> +<p class="i4">If it only were the custom,</p> +<p class="i4">That the papal chapel-master</p> +<p class="i4">Could like other mortals marry.</p> +<p class="i4">But in Rome we must keep always,</p> +<p class="i4">As you know, traditions sacred;</p> +<p class="i4">Palestrina for this reason</p> +<p class="i4">Went himself to foreign lands.</p> +<p class="i6">"Therefore go with my full favour;</p> +<p class="i4">And because the lady's father</p> +<p class="i4">Thinks the name of Werner Kirchhof</p> +<p class="i4">Much too simple, so I grant you</p> +<p class="i4">Knighthood by my sovereign power.</p> +<p class="i4">You, I know, care naught about it;</p> +<p class="i4">For you by your art ennobled</p> +<p class="i4">Think such titles of no moment.</p> +<p class="i4">But perhaps the gracious lady</p> +<p class="i4">May consider it more proper,</p> +<p class="i4">To bestow her hand in marriage</p> +<p class="i4">On the Marquis Camposanto</p> +<p class="i4">Rather than on Master Werner.</p> +<p class="i4">And because I hold the power</p> +<p class="i4">Both to bind as well as loosen,</p> +<p class="i4">I now solemnly betroth you.</p> +<p class="i4">E'en this loveless age rejoices</p> +<p class="i4">At examples of devotion.</p> +<p class="i4">You have shown one--be then happy,</p> +<p class="i4">And receive my papal blessing."<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">This he spoke with much emotion.</p> +<p class="i4">And overwhelmed with grateful feelings</p> +<p class="i4">Werner knelt with Margaretta</p> +<p class="i4">Down before the Holy Father;</p> +<p class="i4">And the Abbess wept so freely</p> +<p class="i4">That the grass thought it was raining.</p> +<p class="i4">With the tears of the good Abbess</p> +<p class="i4">Closes now the touching story</p> +<p class="i4">Of the young musician Werner</p> +<p class="i4">And the lovely Margaretta.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">But who's wandering late at night-time</p> +<p class="i4">Through the Corso, who is stealing</p> +<p class="i4">Through that dark and narrow side-street?</p> +<p class="i4">'Tis the faithful coachman Anton;</p> +<p class="i4">Filled with joy is his whole being.</p> +<p class="i4">To give vent unto this feeling</p> +<p class="i4">He is going to the wine-house,</p> +<p class="i4">To the tavern del Fachino.</p> +<p class="i4">And to-night he is not drinking</p> +<p class="i4">Country wine in fogliette;</p> +<p class="i4">He has ordered a straw-covered</p> +<p class="i4">Bottle of good Orvieto</p> +<p class="i4">And of Monte Porzio.</p> +<p class="i4">Panes are crashing, fragments flying;</p> +<p class="i4">For he throws each empty bottle</p> +<p class="i4">In his rapture through the window.</p> +<p class="i4">Though indignant at the oil-drops</p> +<p class="i4">Which upon the wine are floating,</p> +<p class="i4">Just like comets in the ether,</p> +<p class="i4">Still he drinks and drinks with ardour;</p> +<p class="i4">Only while the tavern-keeper</p> +<p class="i4">Went to fetch him the sixth bottle</p> +<p class="i4">From the cellar, thus he spoke out:</p> +<p class="i6">"Thou, oh heart of an old coachman,</p> +<p class="i4">Now rejoice, for soon thou'lt harness</p> +<p class="i4">Thy good horses and drive homeward.</p> +<p class="i4">From the standpoint of a coachman</p> +<p class="i4">Italy is but a mournful</p> +<p class="i4">Land, behind in every comfort.</p> +<p class="i4">Horrid roads, and frequent toll-gates,</p> +<p class="i4">Musty stalls, and oats quite meagre,</p> +<p class="i4">Coaches rough! I feel insulted</p> +<p class="i4">Every time I see those waggons</p> +<p class="i4">Drawn by oxen yoked together.</p> +<p class="i4">The first element is wanting</p> +<p class="i4">Of a coachman's daily comfort,</p> +<p class="i4">'Tis the handy German hostler.</p> +<p class="i4">Oh how much I miss those worthies!</p> +<p class="i4">Oh how gladly I will welcome</p> +<p class="i4">One in pointed cap and apron!</p> +<p class="i4">In my joy again to see him</p> +<p class="i4">I will hug and even kiss him.</p> +<p class="i4">And at home what great surprises</p> +<p class="i4">Are in store! Oh never was I</p> +<p class="i4">So impressed with the grave duties</p> +<p class="i4">Of a coachman as at present</p> +<p class="i4">At a proud trot, such as never</p> +<p class="i4">Has been seen in this whole country,</p> +<p class="i4">Shall I drive my lord and ladies</p> +<p class="i4">Home through Florence and Milan.<p> +</div> +<br> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"At Schaffhausen, the last station</p> +<p class="i4">For our night's rest, I must promptly</p> +<p class="i4">Send a messenger on horseback,</p> +<p class="i4">And he must alarm the city:</p> +<p class="i4">'Put up quickly all your banners,</p> +<p class="i4">Load your cannons for saluting,</p> +<p class="i4">And erect an arch of honour!'</p> +<p class="i4">Then we enter the next evening</p> +<p class="i4">Through the ancient gate in triumph,</p> +<p class="i4">And my whip I'll crack so loudly</p> +<p class="i4">That the town-house windows rattle.</p> +<p class="i4">Then I hear the aged Baron</p> +<p class="i4">Asking sharply: 'What's the meaning</p> +<p class="i4">Of these banners and this uproar?'</p> +<p class="i4">From afar I shout already:</p> +<p class="i4">'Heaven's blessing rests upon us;</p> +<p class="i4">Here a bridal pair are coming,</p> +<p class="i4">And, my lord, they are your children.'</p> +<p class="i4">This day ne'er shall be forgotten!</p> +<p class="i4">In remembrance shall the tom-cat</p> +<p class="i4">Hiddigeigei have a genuine</p> +<p class="i4">Whole well-smoked Italian sausage.</p> +<p class="i4">For the sake of after ages</p> +<p class="i4">Must the good schoolmaster make me</p> +<p class="i4">A fine poem on this subject;</p> +<p class="i4">I don't care, e'en should it cost me</p> +<p class="i4">The amount of two whole thalers,</p> +<p class="i4">And it must conclude as follows:</p> +<p class="i6">'From true love and trumpet-blowing</p> +<p class="i4">Many useful things are springing;</p> +<p class="i4">For true love and trumpet-blowing</p> +<p class="i4">E'en a noble wife are winning.</p> +<p class="i4">May true love and trumpet-blowing</p> +<p class="i4">Each one find good fortune bringing,</p> +<p class="i4">As our trumpeter young Werner,</p> +<p class="i4">On the Rhine at old Säkkingen.'"</p> +</div></div> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h3>THE END.</h3> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_notes" href="#div1Ref_notes">NOTES.</a></h2> +<p class="normal">The town of Säkkingen, where the scene of this poem is laid, +is situated amid beautiful scenery on the outskirts of the Schwarzwald (Black +Forest), on the right bank of the Rhine, and on the road from Basel to +Constance, about 30 miles above the former place. The town owes its origin to +the settlement of St. Fridolinus (as related in the Third Part of the poem), who +came here from Ireland in the 6th century, and founded a monastery, afterwards +converted into a convent for noble ladies. The settlement was made on an island +in the Rhine. In the poem the town is still considered as lying on an island, +but according to the legend, St. Fridolinus altered the course of the Rhine, +leading its waters entirely to the west side of the island.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal">The castle of Schoenau, on the site of the old castle of the +Baron, the father of the heroine of the story, stands close to the Rhine, and is +now the seat of Mr. Theodore Bally, the well-known wealthy and benevolent +proprietor of large silk manufactories. He has caused the old tower of the +castle to be restored, and intends to adorn its walls with frescoes, +representing scenes from the poem.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 1.--<a name="div1_pg1" href="#div1Ref_pg1">Michele +Pagano</a>, a very popular hotel-keeper in Capri, whose hotel was mostly +frequented by German artists. He died only very recently, universally regretted.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 3.--The cat <a name="div1_pg3" href="#div1Ref_pg3"> +Hiddigeigei</a>, the old Baron's cat, with which the reader will become better +acquainted as a philosophising cat in the course of the poem.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 5.--<a name="div1_pg5" href="#div1Ref_pg5">Amaranth</a>, +a poem by Oscar von Redwitz, published a few years before "The Trumpeter of +Säkkingen," and at that time very popular, especially with certain classes in +Germany.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 13.--<a name="div1_pg13a" href="#div1Ref_pg13a">The +Boezberg</a>, a mountain in the Jura, over which the old road from Basel to +Zürich led. Now the railroad between the two places pierces it with a tunnel.<p> + +<br> + +<p class="normal">--<a name="div1_pg13b" href="#div1Ref_pg13b">The Hozzenwald</a>, +the Hauenstein mountains. See note to page 15.<p> + +<br> + +<p class="normal">--<a name="div1_pg13c" href="#div1Ref_pg13c">The Gallus Tower</a>, +an old tower at the upper extremity of Säkkingen, properly called after St. +Gallus, now used as a house of refuge for homeless people.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 14.--<a name="div1_pg14" href="#div1Ref_pg14">The +graveyard of Säkkingen</a> contains still the tombstone of the hero and heroine +of the poem. Their names, as given there, are Franz Werner Kirchhofer and Marie +Ursula von Schoenau. The first died in May, 1690, the latter in March of the +following year.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 15.--<a name="div1_pg16" href="#div1Ref_pg16">The +Eggberg</a> is one of the mountains in the Hauenstein country, to the north of +Säkkingen. The inhabitants of this country were formerly remarkable for their +quaint costumes coming down from the 15th century. The men wore shirts with +large frills around the neck, red stomachers, long black jackets, and wide +trousers reaching below the knee, and called hozen. Hence the land was called +Hozzenland. The dress of the women was also very peculiar, and of many bright +colours. These old costumes are now rarely seen.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 17.--"<a name="div1_pg17" href="#div1Ref_pg17">The +silvery lake</a>," a romantic small lake, half an hour N.W. from Säkkingen. It +lies in a hollow on the hills, surrounded by rocks and splendid fir-woods. The +lake, which is known by the name of Berg See (mountain lake), is now also called +Scheffel See. It is a favourite spot for excursions from far and near, and +abounds in fish.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 19.--<a name="div1_pg19" href="#div1Ref_pg19">The +Feldberg</a>, the highest point of the Schwarzwald.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 20.--<a name="div1_pg20" href="#div1Ref_pg20">St. +Blasien</a>, formerly a very ancient monastery of Benedictine monks, called thus +after St. Blasius, Bishop of Sebaste, whose relics were brought here by one of +the early abbots.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 21.--"<a name="div1_pg21" href="#div1Ref_pg21">Then +appeared as Death and Devil.</a>" This is the subject of one of Albrecht Dürer's +most celebrated engravings, called Ritter, Tod, and Teufel (the Knight, Death, +and the Devil), where the knight rides quietly and unmoved through a gloomy +mountain glen, smiling at Death, who holds up an hourglass before him, and +taking no notice at all of the droll Devil, who tries to grasp him from behind. +The knight is evidently an embodiment of the freer spirit which began to reign +then in Germany. The engraving is of the year 1513.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 26.--"<a name="div1_pg26" href="#div1Ref_pg26">Far +off on the island glisten.</a>" The town of Säkkingen with its minster.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 30.--<a name="div1_pg30" href="#div1Ref_pg30">Rheinfeld</a>, +or rather Rheinfelden, a town on the left bank of the Rhine, about halfway +between Säkkingen and Basel, where, during the Thirty Years' War, in the year +1638 several actions took place.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 32.--<a name="div1_pg32" href="#div1Ref_pg32">Wehr</a>, +a village about six miles from Säkkingen, on the road to Schopfheim, in the +neighbourhood of a stalactite cave (Hasler Hoehle) mentioned in the Tenth Part.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 38.--<a name="div1_pg38" href="#div1Ref_pg38">Cujacius</a> +(Jacques de Cujas), a very distinguished jurist and professor of law in the +university of Bourges (†. 1590). His only daughter, Susanna, became known by her +profligate life. But the stories told of her by Catherinot cannot have happened +during her father's lifetime, as he died when she was only three years old.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 43--<a name="div1_pg43" href="#div1Ref_pg43">Palsgrave +Frederic</a> married the Princess Elizabeth, daughter of James the First of +England, in 1613. He was afterwards made king of Bohemia by the Protestant +princes of Germany, and moved to Prague in 1619. In the year following his army +was routed near Prague by the forces of the Catholic League, and he had to fly +with his family.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 46.--"<a name="div1_pg46" href="#div1Ref_pg46">Of +a young and handsome carpenter</a>." The pastor refers here to a popular German +song, still often sung by students:<p> + +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<p class="i4">War einst ein jung, jung Zimmergesell,</p> +<p class="i4">Der hatte zu bauen ein Schloss, etc.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<p class="continue">It is the story of a young carpenter who built a castle for +a Margrave. During the absence of the latter the Margravine falls in love with +the carpenter. The lovers are afterwards surprised by the Margrave, who has a +gallows built on which the carpenter is hung.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 49.--<a name="div1_pg49" href="#div1Ref_pg49">Clovis</a> +(465-511), king of the Franks, was married, while he was still a heathen, to +Clotilde, a Christian princess of Burgundy. During the battle at Tolbiac +(Zülpich), near Cologne, when sorely pressed by the enemy, the Allemanni, he +vowed to become a Christian, if he should gain the victory. After routing and +subjugating the Allemanni, the king and many thousands of his people were +baptised by the Bishop of Rheims, on the 23rd of December of the same year +(496).</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 50.--"<a name="div1_pg50" href="#div1Ref_pg50">Augusta +Rauracorum</a>," Colonia Raurica, afterwards called Augusta Rauracorum, a Roman +colony founded in the year 44 B.C., by L. Munatius Plancus. On the site of the +Roman town are now two villages, Basel-Augst and Kaiser-Augst, the latter a +station on the railroad from Basel to Zurich. Near Basel-Augst the remains of a +Roman amphitheatre and of a temple can still be seen.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 56.--<a name="div1_pg56" href="#div1Ref_pg56">Count +Ursus of Glarus</a> had been converted to Christianity by St. Fridolinus, and, +with the consent of his brother Landolph, donated, a short time before his +death, all his estates to the new cloister at Säkkingen. When Landolph, after +the death of his brother refused to acknowledge his will, Fridolinus was obliged +to go to law in order to make good his claim, and after a long litigation was at +last notified by the government of Glarus that he would not be able to have his +claims settled, unless he could bring the dead Count Ursus himself in court as a +witness. Then, the legend says, Fridolinus went, on the day appointed for the +court, to Glarus, raised Ursus from his grave, and walked with him to Rankweil +(the seat of the court, ten hours from Glarus), where the count gave testimony +in regard to his donation. Landolph then not only gave up his brother's estates, +but added also a large portion of his own. After that Fridolinus walked back to +Glarus with Count Ursus, and committed him again to his grave. The saint, on +account of this miracle, is visually portrayed in company with the skeleton of +Count Ursus.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 58.--<a name="div1_pg58" href="#div1Ref_pg58">Laufenburg</a>, +a town six miles above Säkkingen, and situated on the beautiful rapids of the +Rhine. A tower of the old strong castle on the Swiss side is still standing.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 59.--<a name="div1_pg59" href="#div1Ref_pg59">Beuggen</a>, +a town on the Rhine below Säkkingen. The ancient building of the Teutonic order +is still standing, and is used now by the Moravians as an institute for +children.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 71.--The <a name="div1_pg71" href="#div1Ref_pg71"> +Wiese</a>, a river coming from the Feldberg and flowing into the Rhine a little +below Basel. The beautiful valley of the clear rapid river is now much visited, +as there is a railroad as far as the town of Zell. This region has become +classic through the poet Hebel, who wrote in the Allemannic idiom, still +generally spoken in this whole region. At Hausen, the station before Zell, where +he was born, a monument has been erected to him. There is also at Schopfheim, +the station below Hausen, on a hill called Hebelshoehe, a bust of the poet The +women of this region are remarkable for their large singular-looking caps, to +which Scheffel alludes.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 76.--This gravel bank, called <a name="div1_pg76" href="#div1Ref_pg76"> +Field of Fridolinus</a>, is still seen in the Rhine, opposite the castle +Schoenau.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 80.--<a name="div1_pg80a" href="#div1Ref_pg80a">Hallau</a>, +a village not far from the railroad station Neuhausen, the stopping-place for +visiting the falls of the Rhine. The red wine grown there is still very +celebrated.<p> + +<br> + +<p class="normal">--<a name="div1_pg80b" href="#div1Ref_pg80b">The Hohe-Randen</a>, +a mountain to the north of Schapfhausen.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 85.--<a name="div1_pg85" href="#div1Ref_pg85">Theuerdank</a>, +a German poem of the beginning of the 16th century, written by Melchior +Pfinzing, the secretary of the Emperor Maximilian, who had planned and sketched +the poem himself.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 101.--<a name="div1_pg101" href="#div1Ref_pg101">Grenzach</a>, +the first German village going from Basel, on the railroad to Säkkingen and +Constanz. It is celebrated for the wine grown there.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 104.--The <a name="div1_pg104" href="#div1Ref_pg104"> +Frickthal</a>, in the Swiss canton Aargau, nearly south of Säkkingen.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 105.--<a name="div1_pg105" href="#div1Ref_pg105">Schinznach</a>, +a village in the canton Aargau, much visited on account of its hot sulphur +springs. In the neighbourhood are the ruins of the castle of Hapsburg, the +cradle of the imperial house of Austria.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 109.--<a name="div1_pg109" href="#div1Ref_pg109">The +mountain lake</a>. See note to page 17.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 120.--<a name="div1_pg120" href="#div1Ref_pg120">May +drink</a>, or May wine, a favourite drink in Germany for the spring-time, made +by steeping the leaves of woodroof in the light white wine of the country, and +sweetening it with sugar. It is an old custom prevailing already in the 16th +century, when the woodroof was added to the wine not only to cheer the heart +with its fine aroma, but also for medicinal purposes, as acting on the liver.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 135.--<a name="div1_pg135" href="#div1Ref_pg135">Albbruck</a>, +a place above Laufenburg on the Rhine, at the mouth of the little river Alb, the +valley of which is the most beautiful in the Schwarzwald. Formerly there were +here quite important ironworks.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 151.--<a name="div1_pg151" href="#div1Ref_pg151">"E'en +a common Flemish blacksmith.</a>" Quentin Massys (1466-1530), a celebrated +Flemish painter, said to have been originally a blacksmith. While such, he fell +in love, and in order to gain the maiden's consent as well as her father's (who +was an artist) he forsook his trade, devoted himself to painting, and became a +great master in his art. On the tombstone which his admirers placed on his grave +a hundred years after his death, stands the Latin hexameter:<p> + + +<p class="center">Connubialis amor ex mulcibre fecit Apellem!</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 152.--<a name="div1_pg152" href="#div1Ref_pg152">The +Gnome's cave</a> (Die Erdmannshöhle), a stalactite cave near the village of +Hasel (whence the cave is called also Haselhöhle), between Wehr and Schopfheim. +It can be reached from the former by a walk of half an hour, and is often +visited with guides. The first cave, which one reaches through a low passage, is +13 feet high, the next contains a small lake. There is also a little river +rushing along under steps, over which one walks. The cave contains, like all +caves of this kind, most fantastic stalactite structures, which popular fancy +has called the organ, the chancel, the skeleton, &c. Some columns when struck +give out tones which sound as thirds. The most interesting part of the cave is +called Die Fürstengruft (The Prince's Sepulchre), a large room, 16 feet high, +with a stalactite structure resembling a large coffin. Popular superstition has +from times immemorial made this cave the haunt of gnomes.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 169.--The ancient county of <a name="div1_pg169" href="#div1Ref_pg169"> +Hauenstein</a> lies between two spurs of the Feldberg, the eastern one coming +down to the town of Waldshut on the Rhine, the western one to Säkkingen. It is +also called Hozzenland (see note to page 15). The early history of the country +is somewhat obscure until the time of the Emperor Rudolph of Hapsburg, when it +acknowledged the sovereignty of Austria. In the times of the fight for the +German throne between Albrecht of Austria and Adolphe of Nassau, and between +Frederick the Beautiful and Ludwig of Bavaria, when Suabia was without a duke +and Germany without an emperor, the different villages of the country founded a +union (Einung) for their protection. There is still in existence such a union +document drawn up in the year 1433. The entire union was divided into eight +smaller ones, each of which stood under an elected leader (Einungsmeister). All +these eight leaders elected one of their body as speaker (Redmann), who held the +leadership of the entire union. By this the Hauenstein peasants were greatly +protected in their ancient rights; still the oppression of the Austrian +governors (Waldvoegte) often incited revolutions, the most important of which +occurred during the Peasants' War in 1525. Others lasted from 1589 to 1614, +arising from an impost laid on wine. The poet introduces such a rising here in +the course of his story.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 206.--<a name="div1_pg206" href="#div1Ref_pg206">The +Fuggers are an Augsburg family</a>, who, by their linen-trade and weaving, and +afterwards by the purchase of mines in Austria, amassed an enormous fortune, and +were raised to the rank of nobles by the Emperor Maximilian. The family attained +their greatest splendour under the Emperor Charles the Fifth, who, at the time +of the Diet at Augsburg, raised the two brothers then living to the rank of +counts.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 235.--<a name="div1_pg235" href="#div1Ref_pg235">Katzenjammer</a>, +literally translated, cats' misery, the vulgar German expression for the +indisposition after a drunken debauch.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 255.--<a name="div1_pg255" href="#div1Ref_pg255">Parcival</a>, +written by Wolfram von Eschenbach about the year 1200. Theuerdank, a German poem +of the 16th century. See note to page 85.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 277.--"<a name="div1_pg277" href="#div1Ref_pg277">As +at Strasburg on the bulwarks</a>." The Swiss soldier refers here to a popular +song:<p> + +<br> +<div style="margin-left:20%"> +<p class="continue">Zu Strasburg auf der Schanz,<br> +Da ging mein Trauern an, etc.<p> +</div> +<br> + +<p class="continue">The simple but touching story of a soldier who stands guard +on the bulwarks of Strasburg and hears the Alpine horn blown on the other side +of the Rhine. Seized with home sickness he swims across the Rhine, but is taken +afterwards and shot as a deserter.</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 278.--The villa of the <a name="div1_pg278" href="#div1Ref_pg278"> +Cardinal Borghese</a>, Casa Baldi, near Olevano, in the Sabine country, is still +in existence, and is now an inn much frequented by artists. It has become +celebrated by Scheffel's humorous song, "Abschied von Olevano" (Farewell to +Olevano), which he wrote on the spot when leaving there after a long sojourn. It +is published in Scheffers collection of songs, "Gaudeamus."</p> +<br> +<p class="normal"><i>Page</i> 285.--<a name="div1_pg285" href="#div1Ref_pg285">Cardinal +Pietro Ottoboni</a> of Venice, who in 1689 became the successor of Innocent XI. +as Alexander VIII.<p> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr class="W20"> +<h4>CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS, CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS.</h4> + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Trumpeter of Säkkingen, by +Joseph Victor von Scheffel + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRUMPETER OF SÄKKINGEN *** + +***** This file should be named 31314-h.htm or 31314-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/3/1/31314/ + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from scans obtained from The +Internet Archive. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Trumpeter of Saekkingen + A Song from the Upper Rhine. + +Author: Joseph Victor von Scheffel + +Translator: Francis Bruennow + +Release Date: February 18, 2010 [EBook #31314] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRUMPETER OF SAeKKINGEN *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from scans obtained from The +Internet Archive. + + + + + +Transcriber's notes: +1. This book is derived from the Web Archive, +http://www.archive.org/details/trumpeterskking00schegoog. + +2. The oe diphthong is represented by [oe]. + + + + THE TRUMPETER OF SAeKKINGEN. + + + + + + THE + + THE TRUMPETER OF SAeKKINGEN + + + + A Song from the Upper Rhine. + + + + + BY + + JOSEPH VICTOR VON SCHEFFEL. + + + + + TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY + + MRS. FRANCIS BRUeNNOW. + + + + + _Translation authorised by the Poet._ + + + + + London: + CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. + NEW YORK: SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG, & CO. + 1877. + + + + + + + CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS. + CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS. + + + + + + + + O Song, at home well known to fame, + That German hearts hath deeply stirred + And long hath made of Scheffel's name + A dear and honoured household word, + + Go forth in thy first foreign dress, + Go forth to Albion's noble land! + Will she not greetings kind express, + And warmly clasp the stranger's hand? + + The Emerald Isle will surely give + A welcome neither cold nor faint; + For on thy pages still doth live + The name of Erin's ancient Saint. + + Across the sea my country's shores + As Hope's bright star before me rise; + Will she not open wide her doors + To one who on her heart relies? + + Farewell, oh work of vanished hours; + When suffering rent my weary heart, + Thy breath of fragrant woodland flowers + Did life renew, fresh strength impart. + + Oh Scheffel! may thy years be long! + And may'st thou live to see the time, + When this thy genial Schwarzwald song + Will find a home in every clime. + + +_Basel_, _June_, 1877. + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + DEDICATION + + PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION + + PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION + + PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION + + PREFACE TO THE FIFTIETH EDITION + + + FIRST PART. + + HOW YOUNG WERNER RODE INTO THE SCHWARZWALD + + + SECOND PART. + + YOUNG WERNER WITH THE SCHWARZWALD PASTOR + + + THIRD PART. + + ST. FRIDOLIN'S DAY + + + FOURTH PART. + + YOUNG WERNER'S ADVENTURES ON THE RHINE + + + FIFTH PART. + + THE BARON AND HIS DAUGHTER + + + SIXTH PART. + + HOW YOUNG WERNER BECAME THE BARON'S TRUMPETER + + + SEVENTH PART. + + THE EXCURSION TO THE MOUNTAIN LAKE + + + EIGHTH PART. + + THE CONCERT IN THE GARDEN PAVILION + + + NINTH PART. + + TEACHING AND LEARNING + + + TENTH PART. + + YOUNG WERNER IN THE GNOME'S CAVE + + + ELEVENTH PART. + + THE HAUENSTEIN RIOT + + + TWELFTH PART. + + YOUNG WERNER AND MARGARETTA + + + THIRTEENTH PART. + + WERNER SUES FOR MARGARETTA + + + FOURTEENTH PART. + + THE BOOK OF SONGS + + YOUNG WERNER'S SONGS + + SONGS OF THE CAT HIDDIGEIGEI + + SONGS OF THE SILENT MAN + + SOME OF MARGARETTA'S SONGS + + WERNER'S SONGS. FIVE YEARS LATER + + + FIFTEENTH PART. + + THE MEETING IN ROME + + + SIXTEENTH PART. + + SOLUTION AND END + + + NOTES. + + + + + DEDICATION. + + + "Who is yonder light-haired stranger + Who there like a cat is roaming + O'er the roof of Don Pagano?"-- + Thus asked many honest burghers, + Dwellers on the Isle of Capri, + When they from the market turning + Looked up at the palm-tree and the + Low-arched roof of moorish fashion. + + And the worthy Don Pagano + Said: "That is a strange queer fellow, + And most strange his occupation. + Came here with but little luggage, + Lives here quite alone but happy, + Clambers up the steepest mountains, + Over cliffs, through surf is strolling, + Loves to steal along the sea-shore. + Also lately 'mid the ruins + Of the villa of Tiberius + With the hermits there caroused. + What's his business?--He's a German, + And who knows what they are doing? + But I saw upon his table + Heaps of paper written over, + Leaving very wasteful margins; + I believe he is half crazy, + I believe he's making verses." + + Thus he spoke.--And I myself was + This queer stranger. Solitary + I had on this rocky island + Sung this song of my dear Schwarzwald. + I went as a wand'ring scholar + To far countries, to Italia; + With much art became acquainted, + Also with bad vetturinos, + And with many burning flea-bites; + But the sweet fruit of the lotus, + Which doth banish love of country + And the longing to return there, + I have never found here growing. + + 'Twas in Rome. Hard lay the winter + On th' eternal sev'n-hilled city: + Hard? for even Marcus Brutus + Would have caught a bad catarrh then; + And the rain seemed never-ending. + Like a dream then rose the vision + Of the Schwarzwald, and the story + Of the young musician Werner + And the lovely Margaretta. + In my youth I have stood often + By their graves close to the Rhine shore; + Many things which lie there buried + Are, however, long forgotten. + But like one to whom a sudden + Ringing in his ears betokens + That at home of him they're thinking, + So I heard young Werner's trumpet + Through the Roman Winter, through the + Carnival's gay flower-show-- + Heard it from afar, then nearer, + Like the crystal which of vap'rous + Fine materials is condensing + And increases radiating; + So the figures of this song grew-- + Even followed me to Naples. + In the halls of the Museum + Who should meet me but the Baron + Shaking his big cane and smiling, + And before Pompeii's gate sat + The black tom-cat Hiddigeigei. + Purring, quoth he: "Leave all study; + What is all this ancient rubbish, + E'en that dog there in mosaic + In the tragic Poet's dwelling, + In comparison with me--the + Epic type of all cat-nature?" + + This I could no longer stand, so + Now began this ghost to banish. + From the brother of the lovely + Luisella, from the crooked + Cunning druggist of Sorrento + Quantities of ink I ordered, + And sailed o'er the bay to Capri. + Here began my exorcisms. + Many pale-gold coloured sea-fish, + Many lobsters, many oysters, + I ate up without compassion; + Drank the red wine like Tiberius, + Without mercy poetising; + On the roof went up and down till + All resounded metrically, + And the charm was then accomplished: + Chained up in four-measured trochees + Lay those figures which so long now + From my couch sweet sleep had banished. + + 'Twas high time, too; Spring already + Now gave signal of his coming-- + Buds were sprouting on the fig-trees; + Shots were cracking, for with guns and + Nets they were the quails pursuing, + Who towards home their flight were taking; + And the minstrel was in peril + Then of seeing feathered colleagues + Set upon the table roasted. + This dread o'er him, pen and inkstand + Flew against the wall together. + Ready now and newly soled were + My strong boots which old Vesuvius + Had much damaged with his sulphur. + Farther now I journey onward. + Up, my good old Marinaro! + Off from land! the waves with pleasure + Bear light hearts and weightless freightage. + + But the song, which with such happy + Spring-born feelings from my heart welled, + Bears my greetings to my country + And to you, my honoured parents. + Many faults are in it, truly: + Tragic pathos may be wanting, + And a racy tendance; also, + As in Amaranth, the fragrant + Incense of a pious soul, its + Sober but pretentious colouring. + Take him, as he is, this ruddy. + Rough, uncouth son of the mountains, + With a pine branch on his straw hat. + What he's wanting in, pray, cover + With the veil of kind indulgence. + Take him not as thanks, for always + In your Book of Love I'm debtor, + But as greeting and as witness, + That a man whom worldly fortune + Has not placed 'mid smiling verdure, + Yet can, happy as a lark pour + Out his song on leafless branches. + + + Capri, _May 1st_, 1853. + + + + + PREFACE + + + TO THE SECOND EDITION. + + + Five years, my merry song, have now rolled by + Since thou didst venture thy first course to run, + A simple strolling minstrel's chance to try, + But no great laurels so far hast thou won. + In circles of prosaic breathing mortals + No praise was given thee of any kind-- + Where formal stiffness bars life's glowing portals, + Thou and thy kindred can no quarter find. + And in the coteries of hoops and laces + Few were the readers, fewer still the praises. + + Not everything suits everyone: the hill + Grows different flowers than the vale and lea: + But here and there in German homes there will + Be found some hearts who fondly turn to thee; + Where merry fellows are their wine enjoying + With cheerful songs, thy praises will resound; + Near landscape-painters' easels thou art lying, + And in a huntsman's bag thou oft art found, + And e'en of pastors it has been reported + To thee as to their prayer-books they've resorted. + + + And many who have taken a young bride + To spend the honeymoon 'midst rural scenes, + Do like to read thee, sitting side by side; + Of happy hours thou often art the means. + Then Saekkingen, the fair Black Forest's treasure, + Which found at first in thee not much delight, + Has by degrees derived from thee great pleasure, + And to her heart with love has pressed thee tight. + Upon the whole, success outweighs detraction, + And thou canst view thy fate with satisfaction. + + + Now that thou wilt a second course begin, + I should for thee a better dress prepare, + With finer threads the verses' measure spin, + Here lengthen out, there shorten with more care, + I know it well, right often have I faltered, + Some of thy trochees sound a little lame; + But the old humour now, alas! is altered, + The mood which gave thee birth is not the same. + O rosy dreams of youth, when joy abounded, + Wherefore so soon by gloomy clouds surrounded! + + + Once more in my dear Schwarzwald I now rest, + And near me rush the healing waters out, + On high a bird of prey soars o'er his nest, + And in the brook are sporting tiny trout. + From charcoal kilns the smoke clouds are ascending, + With iris-coloured hues the sun embrace, + And stately giant pines in rows unending, + Like wreaths of evergreens, the mountains grace. + A spicy hay-scent rises from the meadow, + And honest folk dwell 'neath their thatched roof's + shadow. + + + And yet--should I now try new songs to sing, + The old accustomed tone I could not find; + Too often grief my soul with pangs doth wring, + Instead of mirth, scorn filleth now my mind. + The world serves idols now, the good ignoring, + And truth is silent, beauty hides her face; + What is unnatural men are adoring, + God is forgotten. Mammon takes his place! + The Poet, now, should be a prophet warning, + Like those of old, reproving, praying, mourning! + + + 'Tis not _my_ sphere; a mighty stirring song + Requires another man, a different art; + But though so much prevails that's sad and wrong. + One may not quite disdain a merry heart. + Go forth, my song, then, as thou didst before, + A cheerful memory of life's fresh spring; + Cheer up those hearts, which grief made sad and sore, + And to friends far and near my greeting bring. + Whenever men to nobler aims aspire, + Then higher too will ring the poet's lyre. + + +Rippoldsau, September, 1858. + + + + + PREFACE + + TO THE THIRD EDITION. + + + Hiddigeigei, his opinion: + "Strange, perverse, are all mankind, + Who, when discord holds dominion, + In such ditties pleasure find.... + Questions which the world are shaking, + Now the thinker's mind assail, + And no light as yet is breaking, + Which solution shall prevail. + + + "Yet our song unto perdition + Has not been condemned, I hear-- + What a marvel!--an edition + For the third time will appear. + Which in new dress, not inferior + (Of the old nought has been spared), + And, with quite unchanged interior, + For its third trip is prepared. + + + "I regret that I'm declining, + And I fear I have the mange; + And I show now, by my whining, + When the wind and weather change. + Coming storms, when brewing, ever + My keen senses do betray; + And the atmosphere was never + Sultry as it is to-day. + + + "Doubly thus I feel this parting, + But thy course must onward lead; + Take my blessing, song, on starting, + And the cat's well-meant good speed! + The green Rhine, the Schwarzwald breezes, + Bring with them health, peace, and rest; + Such a merry fellow pleases, + And is hailed a welcome guest. + + + "Golden Spring, thee still I'm praising; + When the trumpet-notes rang out, + Then my bristling fur seemed blazing, + And bright sparks flew all about; + And the trumpet with my growling + Then defied Fate's evil doom; + Gentle is to-day my howling + O'er the hidden future's gloom." + +_Summer_, 1862. + + + + + PREFACE + + TO THE FOURTH EDITION. + + + The Boezberg for the Rhine I have been leaving, + A home-sick longing stirred my heart within, + Once more that fragrant air I would be breathing + Again would see the town of Fridolin, + As if at my return with joy elated, + She lay there basking in the autumn sun, + Her minster's towers lately renovated, + Reflected in the river, brightly shone; + Far to the North, through bluish vapour breaking, + The Hozzenwald, a stately background making. + + + From the Gallus-Thurm on the Roman wall erected, + To where the ancient convent buildings lie, + The well-known gable roofs I all detected, + Where often my light skiff had glided by; + And where the shore by gravel banks is bounded, + A sunny garden's blooming face doth smile; + Half hidden by the chestnuts which surround it + Lies cosily the castle's graceful pile. + To it my hat in greeting I am tossing, + As o'er the ancient covered bridge I'm crossing. + + + Unto the dead my steps at first were tending, + Unto the graveyard where the Rhine flows by, + For many had been called to rest unending, + Who once with me enjoyed this balmy sky. + The old stone wall I neared with deep emotion, + Inscribed with Werner Kirchhof s name and arms, + And of his wife a record of devotion, + Which, though long past, e'en now attracts and charms. + And Heaven's blessing on the pair alighted. + By death the same year they were re-united. + + + To the market then I turned. "Are ghosts here wandering. + Or is it you yourself who meets mine eyes?" + So said the mayor by the court-house standing, + Who slowly did the stranger recognise.... + Long years have passed since friends were often going + To hear my judgments in the dusky court; + But though now many heads gray locks are showing, + Their hearts are fresh, their memory is not short; + And as we never shunned good cheer and drinking, + From foaming bumpers we'll not now be shrinking. + + + 'Tis true the Button landlord has been moving + Out of his cosy tavern on the Square, + But still retains his former skill in brewing, + And in his new inn keeps the same good fare. + And as around the table we sat cheering + Our hearts with kindly memories of old, + From many lips I these glad news was hearing, + Which please the Poet more than heaps of gold: + The Trumpeter, whose story I'd been singing, + To young and old more joy was daily bringing. + + + As a vignette the weekly paper gracing + He's blowing politics instead of music now; + And even more, somebody has been placing + My hero on the stage--but ask not how. + Could I but see the walls of the new tower, + Which now is rising in the old one's place, + Embellished by an artist of great power-- + The figures of my song devised with grace! + Thus might an artist's hand make expiation + For the abuse by stage-representation. + + + However, let that go, I am not fearing + Whatever purpose thou mayst serve my song; + Now that a new edition is appearing, + I send my greeting home with it along. + On thy fourth tour thou Schwarzwald-child be hieing, + Where truth and goodness dwell, there enter in, + And preach to those who with _ennui_ are sighing, + How innocent amusement they may win. + As often as there comes a new edition, + "Preserve thee, God!" be ever my petition. + + +Seon in the Aargau, _November_, 1864. + + + + + PREFACE + + TO THE FIFTIETH EDITION. + + + The Trumpeter now, all alive and refreshed, + To the Jubilee loudly is blowing; + The present year has both of us blessed, + Great favour and lustre bestowing. + I have my fiftieth year attained, + Through joy and through sorrow surviving, + And his editions--such fame has he gained-- + At the fiftieth are now arriving. + + + It may be that I a part of my youth + And joy with him have been leaving; + But still from these scenes--to tell the truth-- + Great pleasure I now am receiving. + To the Eggberg I climbed, where on high are seen + The homes of the Hauenstein peasant; + Their straw-thatched roofs with mosses still green, + But no more quaint costumes at present. + + + Through gaps in the forest I see shining bright + The snow-peaks of Switzerland's Giants, + The steep Finsteraarhorn's towering height + The Jungfrau dazzling with diamonds; + And as to the west I turn my gaze, + Blue ridge above ridge is unfolding: + And, in the evening's golden haze, + I'm the Vosges' great Belchen beholding. + + + When now to Saekkingen downward I hie, + Through the dark green forest is gleaming + The silvery lake, like the earth's clear eye, + Looking upward, invitingly beaming. + Gneiss rocks high o'er the grassy shore rise; + And placed so as best to show it, + Inscribed on a rock this meets mine eyes: + "Saekkingen, the town, to her Poet!" + + + And now, as by Bally's castle I stand, + There my Trumpeter also stands blowing, + Cast finely in bronze by a master's hand. + That they know us well here all are showing; + For, when I was going to pay at the inn, + The kind hostess refused quite indignant. + 'Tis clear, in the town of St. Fridolin, + O'er us a bright star shines benignant. + + + The Trumpeter bravely has blown his way + Through much that his patience was tasking; + And the publisher also his joy doth betray: + For the author's likeness he's asking. + Accept then this book, my friends, as before, + With kind and growing affection; + When the Schwarzwald's Poet shall be no more, + Still hold him in fond recollection. + +Carlsruhe, _October_, 1876. + + + + + + + THE + + TRUMPETER OF SAeKKINGEN. + + + + + FIRST PART. + + HOW YOUNG WERNER RODE INTO THE SCHWARZWALD. + + + To the Schwarzwald soars my song, up + To the Feldberg, where the last small + Cluster of its comrade mountains + Toward the south are boldly looking, + And, all mailed in fir-tree armour, + Keep good watch there on the Rhine. + + + Be thou greeted, peaceful forest! + Be ye greeted, ancient pine-trees, + Ye, who oft beneath your shadow + Me, the weary one, have sheltered. + Oddly twisted, spread your roots down + Deep within the earth's vast bowels, + Strength from out those depths imbibing, + While to us is closed the entrance. + And you envy not a transient + Human being's transient doings. + Only smile;--his feast at Christmas + You adorn with your young scions. + In your sturdy trunks lives also + Conscious life-sustaining power. + Resin through your veins is coursing; + And your dreamy thoughts are surging + Slow and heavy, upward, downward. + Oft I saw the clear and gummy + Tears which from your bark were oozing, + When a woodman's wanton axe-stroke + Rudely felled some loved companion. + Oft I heard your topmost summits + Spirit-like together whisper. + Then there breathed throughout my soul a + Sweet mysterious solemn dreaming. + Don't find fault then, if my song now + Soars within the forest shades. + + + 'Twas in March: still played the Winter + Masquerade; the branches, laden + With fantastical ice-crystals, + To the ground were lowly drooping; + Here and there, out of Earth's bosom + Tender plants their heads were thrusting-- + Wood-anemones and cowslips. + As the patriarch, old Noah, + At the time of the great Deluge, + Sent the dove to reconnoitre: + So with winter's ice sore burdened, + With impatience sends the Earth forth + These first flowers with a question, + Asking, whether the oppressor + Has not come to his last gasp yet. + Blustering from the Feldberg's summit + Now old Master Storm is rushing, + And rejoices, through the dark dense + Forest he again is blowing; + Says: "I greet you, ancient comrades; + Why I come, you know the reason-- + They believe, poor mortal children, + When they see me tearing, snatching + Roughly some old hat away, + I am only there to frighten. + That would be a pretty business, + Breaking chimneys, smashing windows, + Scattering through the air some thatchings, + Tearing some old woman's clothing + Till she signs the cross in praying! + But you fir-trees know me better, + Me, the fair Spring's thorough cleaner, + Who what's mouldy sweeps afar off-- + Who what's rotten blows to pieces-- + Who the earth's domain well cleanses, + That his radiant Lord and Master + Worthily may make his entrance. + And you, noble forest comrades, + Who so oft, with bronze-like foreheads, + Bravely have withstood my rudeness, + Ye whose trunks I have to thank for + Many knocks against my skull-bone, + Ye alone shall hear my secret: + Soon the Spring himself he cometh, + And then, when the buds are bursting, + Lark and blackbird sing their carols, + And with fervent heat the Spring sun + Brightly on your heads is shining, + Then remember me, the Storm-wind, + Who to-day, with boisterous fury + As his harbinger swept past." + + + Speaking thus, he shook the tree-tops + With great roughness; boughs are snapping, + Branches falling, and a thick, fine + Rain of pine-leaves crackles downward. + But the fir-trees, quite indignant, + Took small notice of this homage. + From their summits rang the answer, + Rather scolding, I should call it: + "You unmannerly rude fellow! + We will have no business with you, + And regret much that the finest + Lords have oft the rudest servants. + To the Alps begone directly, + There is sport fit for your humour; + There stand walls of rock all barren; + Entertain yourself with them there." + + + Now, while thus the storm and fir-trees + Held such converse with each other, + Could be heard a horse's footfall. + Toiling through the snow-piled wood-path + Seeks his way a weary horseman; + Gaily flutters in the storm-wind, + To and fro, his long gray mantle, + His fair curling locks are waving, + And, from out the cocked-up hat there + Boldly nods a heron's feather. + On his lips was just appearing + Such a downy beard as ladies + Much admire, because it showeth + That its bearer is a man, still + One whose kisses will not wound them. + But not many pretty lips had + Felt the soft touch of this beard yet. + Which, as if for fun and mischief, + Snow and ice now decked with crystals. + In his clear blue eyes were glowing + Warmth and mildness, earnest meaning, + And you could not doubt his fist would + Strike a valiant blow, when needed, + With the heavy basket-hilted + Sword, which, worn suspended by a + Black belt from his shoulder, well-nigh + Grazed the ground as he was riding. + Wound around his riding-doublet + Was a sash, to which was tied the + Richly-gilded shining trumpet, + Which he often with his mantle + Sheltered from the falling snow-flakes; + But, whene'er the wind pierced through it, + Bringing forth tones shrill and wailing; + Then around his mouth there played a + Sweet strange smile of melancholy. + + + Silent through the forest's thicket + On he rode, while often roving + Were his glances--as the case is, + When a wanderer for the first time + Over unknown roads is travelling. + Rough the path--the poor horse often + In the snow was nearly sinking, + And o'er gnarl'd and tangled branches + Of the knotted pine-roots stumbling. + And the rider, in ill-humour, + Said: "Sometimes it is quite tedious, + Through the world alone to travel. + There are times, 'mid gloomy forests, + When one longeth for companions. + Since I bade farewell this morning + To the good monks of St. Blasien, + Lonely was the road and dreary. + Scattered here and there, a peasant, + Through the snow-storm running swiftly, + Hardly did my greeting notice. + Then a pair of coal-black ravens, + Who with hoarse discordant croakings, + O'er a dead mole fiercely quarrelled; + For the past two hours, however, + I not once have had the honour + To behold one living being. + And in this lone forest district, + Where the lofty snow-clad pine-trees + Look as if in shrouds enveloped, + I should like to have some comrades. + Were they even rogues or gipsies, + Or those two suspicious fellows + Who escorted the old knight once + Through the forest's gloom and thicket; + Then appeared as Death and Devil, + Grinning in his face with scorn! + I should rather ride with them now-- + Rather fight them, or play lively + Dances for them, than so lonely + Thus to trot through this dense forest." + + + All comes to an end, however, + Even riding through the forests. + Round the trunks it grew much lighter, + Storm and snow-clouds were receding, + And the blue sky smiled benignant + Through the dense shade of the pine-woods. + Thus the miner, looking upward. + Sees, far at the pit's mouth shining. + Like a star, the distant daylight, + Which he greets with joyful shouting. + Likewise such a cheerful feeling + Brightens up our riders face. + So he reached the forest's border, + And his eyes, so long restricted + By dark woods to narrow prospects, + Gladly swept the wide horizon. + + + O how lovely woods and fields lay! + Green meads in the narrow valley, + Straw-thatched huts, low-roofed and mossy. + And the modest village steeple; + Deep below, where dusky forests + Stretch along unto the lowlands, + Like a long bright streak of silver, + Takes the Rhine his westward course. + Far off from the island glisten + Battlements and lofty houses, + And the minster's two tall spires; + While beyond, in misty distance + Shining, rise up unto Heaven + Snowy peaks of giant mountains, + Guardians of Helvetia's soil. + As the pallid ardent thinker's + Eye doth glow and cheek doth redden, + When a thought, new and creative, + Through his brain has flashed like lightning, + So the golden light of evening + Glows upon the Alpine Giants. + (Do they dream of throes of labour + Which their mother-earth of old felt, + When they from her womb were bursting?) + + + From the horse got off our rider, + To a pine-tree stump he bound it, + Gazed in wonder at the landscape, + Spoke no word, but shouting tossed up + In the air his pointed cocked hat, + And began to blow a cheering + Joyous tune upon his trumpet. + To the Rhine it bore a greeting, + Over toward the Alps it floated, + Merry now, then full of feeling, + Like a prayer devout and solemn, + Then again quite roguish, joyful. + Now trari-trara resounded, + Echo's voice her plaudits sending + From the bosom of the forest. + Fair it was o'er hill and valley, + But fair also to behold him, + As he in the deep snow standing + Lightly on his horse was leaning; + Now and then a golden sunbeam + Glory shed on man and trumpet, + In the background gloomy fir-trees, + Farther down among the meadows + Rang his tunes out not unheeded! + There was walking then the worthy + Pastor of the neighbouring village, + Who the snow-drifts was examining, + Which, fast melting with the surging + Waters rising o'er the meadows, + Threatened to destroy the grass there. + Plunged in thought, he deeply pondered + How to ward off this great danger. + Round him bounded, loudly barking, + His two white and shaggy dogs. + + + You who live in smoky cities, + And are separated wholly + From the simple life of nature, + Shrug your shoulders! for my muse will + Joyfully now sing the praises + Of a pastor in the country. + Simple is his life, and narrow: + Where the village ends, end also + All his labours and endeavours. + While men slaughtered one another, + In the bloody Thirty Years' War, + For God's honour, the calm grandeur + Of the Schwarzwald's solemn pine-woods + Breathed its peace into his soul. + Spider-webs spread o'er his book-shelves; + And, 'mid all the theologians' + Squabbles, he most likely never + Had read one polemic treatise. + With dogmatics altogether, + Science in her heavy armour, + He possessed but slight acquaintance. + But, whenever 'mongst his people + Could some discord be adjusted-- + When the spiteful neighbours quarrelled; + When the demon of dissension + Marriage marred and children's duty; + When the daily load of sorrow + Heavily weighed down some poor man, + And the needy longing soul looked + Eagerly for consolation-- + Then, as messenger from Heaven, + To his flock the old man hastened; + From the depths of his heart's treasure + Gave to each advice and comfort. + And if, in a distant village, + Someone lay upon a sick-bed, + With grim Death hard battle waging, + Then--at midnight--at each hour, + When a knock came at his hall-door-- + E'en if snow the pathway covered-- + Undismayed he went to comfort + And bestow the sacred blessing. + Solitary was his own life, + For his nearest friends were only + His two noble dogs (St. Bernards). + His reward: a little child oft + Bashfully approached him, kissing + His old hand with timid reverence; + Also oft a grateful smile played + O'er the features of the dying, + Which was meant for the old priest. + + + Unperceived the old man came now + By the border of the forest, + To the Trumpeter whose last notes + Rang resounding in the distance, + Tapped him friendly on the shoulder: + "My young master, may God bless you, + 'Twas a fine tune you were playing! + Since the horsemen of the emperor + Buried here their serjeant-major, + Whom a Swedish cannon-ball had + Wounded mortally at Rhinefeld, + And they blew as a farewell then + The Reveille for their dead comrade-- + Though 'tis long since it has happened, + I have never heard such sounds here. + Only on the organ plays my + Organist, and that quite poorly; + Therefore I am struck with wonder + To encounter such an Orpheus. + Will you treat to such fine music + The wild beasts here of our forest, + Stag and doe, and fox and badger? + Or, perhaps, was it a signal, + Like the call of the lost huntsman? + I can see that you are strange here, + By your long sword and your doublet; + It is far still to the town there, + And the road impracticable. + Look, the Rhine-fog mounts already + High up towards these upland forests, + And it seems to me but prudent + That with me you take your lodging; + In the vale there stands my glebe-house, + Plain, 'tis true, yet horse and rider + Find sufficient shelter there." + + + Then the horseman quickly answered: + "Yes, I'm strange in a strange country, + And I have not much reflected + Where to-night shall be my lodging. + To be sure, in these free forests + A free heart can sleep if need be; + But your courteous invitation + I most gratefully accept." + + + Then unfastened he his horse and + Led it gently by the bridle, + And the Pastor and the rider + Like old friends walked to the village + In the twilight of the evening. + By the window of the glebe-house + The old cook stood, looking serious; + Mournfully her hands she lifted, + Took a pinch of snuff and cried out: + "Good St. Agnes! good St. Agnes! + Stand by me in this my trouble! + Thoughtlessly my kind old master + Brings again a guest to stay here; + What a thorough devastation + Will he make in my good larder! + Now farewell, you lovely brook-trout, + Which I had reserved for Sunday, + When the Dean of Wehr will dine here. + Now farewell, thou hough of bacon! + The old clucking hen, I fear much, + Also now must fall a victim, + And the stranger's hungry horse will + Revel in our store of oats." + + + + + SECOND PART. + + YOUNG WERNER WITH THE SCHWARZWALD PASTOR. + + + Snugly in the well-warmed chamber, + Now before the supper table, + Sat the Trumpeter and Pastor, + On the dish, right hot and steaming + Had a roasted fowl paraded, + But it had completely vanished; + Only now a spicy fragrance + Floated gently through the chamber, + Like the songs by which the minstrel + Still lives on through after ages; + And the empty plates bore witness + That a great and healthy hunger + Lately here had been appeased. + + + Now the Pastor raised a brimming + Jug of wine, then filled the glasses + And began, his guest accosting: + "After supper 'tis the duty + Of the host, his guest to question: + Who he is, from whence he cometh? + Where his country and his parents? + In old Homer I have read oft + That the King of the Phaeacians + Thus the noble hero questioned; + And I hope you can relate me + Just as many strange adventures + As Ulysses. Take your comfort, + Seat yourself in that warm corner, + Yonder by the stove, which is a + Hatching nest of solid thinking; + 'Tis according to our custom + The narrator's seat of honour. + And I'll listen with attention. + Still the old man hears with pleasure + Of the storms of youth's wild passions." + + + Then the young man: "I am sorry + Not to be a proven hero, + Neither have I conquered Ilium, + Nor have blinded Polyphemus, + Neither have I ever thus far + Met with any Royal Princess, + Who when spreading out the linen + Felt for me a soft compassion. + But with pleasure I obey you." + On the bench he took his seat now + By the stove all covered over + With glazed tiles much ornamented. + From the stove streamed out warm comfort, + And the Pastor kindly told him + To stretch out his weary legs there. + He, however, would not do so; + Took a swallow of the red wine, + And began to tell his story: + + + "Know, my name is Werner Kirchhof; + I was born and grew to manhood, + In the Pfalz, at Heidelberg." + + + Old Heidelberg, thou beauty. + With many honours crowned; + Along the Rhine and Neckar, + No town like thee is found. + + + Thou town of merry fellows, + Of wisdom full and wine, + Clear flows thy placid river, + Blue eyes therein do shine. + + + When from the south is spreading + Spring's smile o'er hill and lea, + He out of blossoms weaveth + A bridal robe for thee. + + + Thee as a bride I fondly + Enshrine within my heart; + Like early love's sweet echoes, + Thy name doth joy impart. + + + Become life's cares too burning, + And all abroad looks bare, + I'll spur my good horse homeward + To the Neckar vale so fair. + + + "On the borders of the Neckar + I have dreamt sweet dreams of childhood, + Also have a school attended, + Greek and Latin there have studied; + And a thirsty old musician + Taught me how to blow the trumpet. + When I reached my eighteenth birthday, + Said my guardian: 'You, young Werner, + With a clever head are gifted, + And are somewhat of a genius, + And cut out of right material; + You must now become a lawyer. + That brings office and great honours, + Gathers also golden ducats. + And already I do see you + As the well-appointed bailiff + Of His Grace the Grand Elector; + And I then must pay you homage. + I will venture the prediction, + If you act quite circumspectly, + Then a seat may yet await you + In th' Imperial Court at Wetzlar.' + Thus I then became a lawyer; + Bought myself a great big inkstand, + Also bought a huge portfolio, + And a heavy Corpus Juris, + And the lecture-room frequented, + Where, with yellow mummy visage, + Samuel Brunnquell, the professor, + Roman law to us expounded. + Roman law, when I recall it, + On my heart it lies like nightmare, + Like a millstone on my stomach, + And my head feels dull and stupid. + To much nonsense did I listen, + How they in the Roman Forum + Snarling, quarrelled with each other; + How Sir Gaius stuck to his point, + And to his Sir Ulpianus; + How then later comers dabbled. + Till the Emperor Justinianus, + He of all the greatest dabbler, + Sent them home about their business. + And I often asked the question: + 'Must it really be our fate then + These dry bones to gnaw forever, + Which were flung to us as remnants + From their banquets by the Romans? + Why should not, from soil Germanic, + Spring the flower of her own law, + Simple, full of forest fragrance-- + No luxuriant southern climber? + Sad fate of the late-born races! + Must read till their brows are sweating, + And must try to disentangle + Knotty twisted skeins forever. + Can't we have a sword to cut them?' + + + "Often, nightly, by the lamp-light + I sat poring o'er the Codex, + Read the Glossary and Cujacius + Till my weary brain was racking; + But this zeal brought me no blessing. + Merrily would then my thoughts fly + From my studies to that time when + Old Cujacius' lovely daughter + Mounted in her father's rostrum, + With her voice sweet and melodious, + Read for him his written lectures + To the lucky youth of Paris. + Usucaption and inheritance, + And Novella hundred and eighteen, + Changed into a dark-haired maiden + Peeping from the Corpus Juris. + From my trembling hands the pen fell, + Overturned were sand and inkstand, + And I caught hold of the trumpet: + Usucaption and inheritance, + And Novella hundred and eighteen, + Wailing in adagio tempo. + Flew forth from the study window + Far into the starry night. + + + "Yes, this zeal brought me no blessing. + I one day went from my lodging, + 'Neath my arm the Corpus Juris + ('Twas the Elzevir edition, + Which at Rotterdam was published) + To the Heugass', to the pawn-house, + Where the Jew, Levi Ben Machol, + With his squinting eyes rapacious, + Took it in his arms paternal, + Paid me then two golden ducats-- + Someone else may now redeem it! + I became a saucy fellow, + Wandered much o'er hill and valley + Clinking spurs and serenading. + If I ever caught one sneering, + Quickly grasped my hand the rapier: + 'Fight a duel! draw your weapons! + Now advance!' That whistled nicely + Through the air; on many smooth cheeks + Wrote my sword so sharp and steady + A memento everlasting. + I, however, must confess here, + That I did not choose the finest + Company to wander round with. + What I liked, was to sit drinking + Up in the Elector's Castle, + By our age's greatest marvel + Which the German mind has wrought out, + By the tun of Heidelberg. + A most worthy hermit dwelt there, + Who was the Elector's court fool, + Was my dear old friend Perkeo; + Who had out of life's wild whirlpool + Peacefully withdrawn himself where + He could meditate while drinking, + And the cellar was his refuge. + Here he lived, his care dividing + 'Twixt himself and the big wine-tun; + And he loved it--truer friendship + Never has the world yet witnessed; + 'Twas as if it were his bride. + With a broom he swept it shining, + Chased away the ugly spiders, + And whenever came a feast-day, + Hung it o'er with wreaths of ivy; + Sang to it the morning greeting, + Also sang the song of evening, + And he carved in wood the image + Of himself as his best offering. + But when sipping his reward then + From the big tun's mouth with kisses, + Forth he launched in flights of fancy. + Often at his feet I listened + To his odd and comic speeches: + 'There above, they call me foolish, + Let them gossip, my dear fellow, + Gossip never doth annoy me. + Oh, the world has grown quite stupid! + How they grope, and how they stumble, + Over paths, to find what Truth is; + Still in fog they are enveloped. + To the first cause of all being + We must needs go back, and bring the + Last result of our researches + In a concrete form together. + Thus we comprehend the world well; + For this purpose I am drinking + Truly cosmogonically. + Mundane space to me is nothing + But a roomy vaulted cellar, + Where as first and central wine-tun, + Firmly stands the sun erected! + Next to him the rank and file of + Smaller casks, fixed stars and planets. + As the divers casks are holding + Wines of various sorts and flavours, + So comprise the heavenly bodies + Various spiritual natures. + Land-wine this--that Ruedesheimer; + But the earth-cask holds a mixture; + Fermentation has half clouded + And half volatilised the spirit + The antagony of matter + And of spirit is, by thinking, + Blended into higher union. + Thus soars my creative genius + Far on high, while I am drinking. + And when through my brain are rushing + Revelations from the wine-fumes, + And when then my feeble body + Tottering sinks down by the wine-tun, + 'Tis the triumph of the spirit, + 'Tis the act of self-deliverance + From the narrow bounds of being. + Thus my solitude doth teach me + Nature's everlasting system. + With mankind it would be better, + Had the great Germanic race but + Understood their high vocation, + And throughout the world had carried + High the standard of the wine-cask, + Made of drinking a devotion-- + As the Persians worship fire!' + O Perkeo! better were it + Now with me, if to thy wisdom + I had never, never listened! + 'Twas a sharp cold winter morning, + When down in the cosy cellar + We were taking a potation, + Talking philosophically; + But when I stepped out at midday, + The whole world and everybody + Looked most strangely queer and funny. + Rosy hues lit up all Nature, + Angel-voices I heard plainly. + On the balcony of the castle + Stood surrounded by her ladies, + Full of grace, of all the fairest, + The Electress Leonora, + Up to her start my bold glances, + Up to her my daring longing; + Clouded was my understanding. + Quickly I approached the terrace + And began to sing the wild air + Which the Palsgrave Frederic once sang, + As a love-sick serenader, + To his lovely English bride." + + + I kneel to thee as thy faithful true knight, + Fair Princess, of women the pearl! + Command, and I fight the Emperor's host, + Command, and I hold the most dangerous post, + To atoms the world I will hurl. + + + I'll fetch thee from Heaven the sun and the moon. + Fair Princess, of women the crown! + I'll fetch countless stars from yon azure height, + Spit them like frogs on my spear sharp and bright, + And low at your feet lay them down. + + + Command, I will even become a fool, + Fair Princess, of women the prize! + Indeed, I am one already I see, + The light is far too dazzling for me, + Which streams from thy sunny blue eyes. + + * * * * * * * + + "Do you hear the trumpets blowing? + Do you hear the cannon roaring? + There, near Prague, at Weissenberg, now + For Bohemia's throne they're fighting. + Palsgrave, 'twas a short sad winter! + Palsgrave, thou wast sore defeated! + Spur thy horse and seek a refuge! + + + "O thou fairest of all women, + From my dream what an awaking! + For there came to me the Beadle, + Summoned me before the Rector. + Grimly wrinkled he his forehead, + Wild with rage his locks were shaking; + Sternly he pronounced my sentence-- + His Magnificence the Rector: + 'For your unpermitted blowing, + For your unpermitted sing-song + In the Castle's sacred precincts, + You must quit the town and college + In three days; by special favour + Of our gracious sovereign princess, + Further punishment is spared.' + + + "Leave the town now--was I dreaming? + No, it was a fact well founded. + But before I left the city, + All my debts I fully settled, + In such cases quite unusual; + And I rode on the third morning + Out of Heidelberg; the fourth day + Out of the Elector's country + Unoffended; though my home had + Thrust me out--the bolts drawn on me-- + Yet I will not cease to love her. + And the trumpet, cause of mischief, + I hung gaily on my shoulder. + And I augur it shall yet peal + Joyful tunes to help me onward. + I don't know now to what haven + Horse and tempest may yet bear me, + Still I look not backward more. + Cheerful heart and courage daring + Knows no sorrow, nor despairing, + Fortune has good luck in store. + Thus I came into the Schwarzwald.-- + My kind host, pray tell me frankly + Whether my long tale has made you + Feel a heavy sleep approaching. + But if not, I'll be most grateful + If you'll give me some advice." + + + Smiling rang the good old Pastor + Glass to glass, and smiling said he: + "Your tale has a lucky ending. + I remember quite another, + Of a young and handsome carpenter, + And a Margravine's allurements. + But it ended on the gallows. + In this case, I am much puzzled + How to give you good advice. + In my code it is not written + How to counsel such a person, + Who with songs insults fair ladies, + Leaves his law books in the pawn-house, + With his trumpet loudly bloweth + To himself a rosy future. + But when human knowledge faileth, + Heaven graciously doth help us. + Way down in the forest-city, + There in Saekkingen is a worthy + Patron saint of all young people, + Is the holy Fridolinus, + And to-morrow is his feast-day. + Never has he yet forsaken + Him who prays for help in trouble; + Therefore ask Saint Fridolinus." + + + + + THIRD PART. + + ST. FRIDOLIN'S DAY. + + + Lo! a ship comes o'er the ocean, + Near Franconia's coast approaching, + Foreign sails and foreign pendant. + At the rudder sits a pale man, + Clad in black and monkish robes. + Hollow, like a mournful wailing, + Sounds the strange speech of the pilgrims, + Sound their prayers, and cries of sailors. + 'Tis the ancient Celtic language + From the Emerald Isle of Erin; + And the vessel bears the pious + Missionary Fridolinus. + "Cease thy grieving, dearest mother; + Not with sword nor with the war-axe + Shall thy son gain fame and honour: + Other ages, other weapons-- + Faith and Love are my sole armour. + For the love I bear my Saviour + I go forth unto the heathen; + Celtic blood impels me onward. + And in dreams I've seen a vision-- + A strange land and pine-clad mountains, + A clear stream with a green island, + Most as fair as my own country; + Thither points the Lord His finger, + Thither sails now Fridolinus." + + + With a few choice Irish comrades, + Filled with earnest, calm devotion, + Fridolin sailed o'er the ocean; + Came into the Frankish Empire, + Where at Paris reigned King Clovis. + Smiling spake he to the pilgrims: + "I had never great affection + For the saints and monkish orders; + Since, however, the accursed + Allemanic lances whistled + Nearer me than I thought pleasant + On the battlefield of Zulpich, + I have changed my mind entirely-- + Even kings will pray in danger. + Where you wander I'll protect you. + And unto your special notice + Recommend the Allemanni: + They are stubborn and thick-headed, + They are still most dogged heathen; + Try to make them good and pious." + Farther on the little band went, + To the land of the Helvetians; + There began their serious labour, + And the holy cross was planted + At the foot of snow-clad Saentis, + Planted by the Bodensee. + When descending from the Jura + Fridolinus saw the ruins + Of Augusta Rauracorum-- + Roman walls--there still projected + From the rubbish mighty columns + Of the Temple of Serapis. + But the Altar and the Cella + Were o'ergrown with tangled brambles; + And the ox-head of Serapis + Had been built in o'er the stable + By an Allemanic peasant, + Whose forefathers had most likely + Killed the last priest of Serapis. + + + Seeing this then, Fridolinus + Crossed himself and travelled onward, + By the green banks of the river. + Evening came, and far already + Had the pious man now wandered. + There beheld he, how the river + Flowed in two divided branches; + And in the green waters smiling + Rose before him a small island, + Sack like lying in the river. + (Hence the peasants, who are never + Over squeamish in comparing, + Called the isle Sacconium.) + Evening came; the larks were singing + Fish sprang snapping from the water; + Through the heart of Fridolinus + Thrilled a thankful pious gladness. + On his knees he sank down praying, + For he recognised the island + As the vision of his dreaming-- + And he praised the Lord in Heaven. + + + Oft, 'tis true, have many of us + Mortals in these modern ages + Also dreamt of tranquil islands, + Where we happily might nestle, + And the weary heart refresh with + Forest calm and Sabbath quiet. + Many also go with ardent + Longing on the journey, but when + Nearing as they hope their island, + Suddenly it fades before them, + As in southern climes the airy + Image of the fay Morgana. + + + Full of wonder, a wild native + Sculled the stranger to the island, + On a raft made of rough pine logs. + Wild the island: limes and alders + In low marshes here were growing; + On the shore with pebbles covered, + Also stood huge ancient willows; + And some scattered huts with thatched roofs. + Here in summer, when the salmon + Are migrating up the river, + Eager fishermen stand waiting + With their long sharp pikes to spear them. + Unremitting to his labour + Went the saint--soon stood his log-house + On the solid ground erected; + Near the house the cross he planted. + When the bell at dusk of evening + Rang out far, Ave Maria! + And he prayed devoutly kneeling; + From the Rhine vale, many people + Timidly looked at the island. + + + Fierce and stubborn were these Almains. + Once the Roman gods they hated; + Now Franconia's God they hated, + Who at Zulpich, like a tempest, + Had o'erthrown their mighty host. + When the lazy master idly + Took his rest on winter evenings, + And, with eager zest, the women + Set their tongues in busy motion, + And of this and that they gossiped-- + How the jug of milk had curdled, + How the hut was struck by lightning, + How a youth was badly injured + By a boar's sharp tusk when hunting-- + Then in warning spoke the crafty + Aged Allemanic grandam: + "No one else have we to blame but + Him who dwells on yonder island-- + That old pallid, praying stranger. + Trust ye not, I pray, the new God + Of the Franks, nor false King Clovis!" + And they feared the pious stranger. + Once, upon the summer solstice, + They all came unto his island, + Drank there--after ancient custom-- + Mead from their enormous tankards; + And they tried to seize the stranger, + But he had gone down the river. + "We will leave this pallid man, then, + Tokens that we've held our feast here!" + Soon some lighted brands were flying + In the hut of Fridolinus; + And they sprang rejoicing through the + Flames in singing, "Praised be Woden!" + From the distance gazed with pleasure + The old grandam, and her face shone + Ghastly in the lurid light. + + + Fridolinus, when returning, + Saw his hut laid waste in ashes; + And he said, then smiling sadly: + "Lord, I thank thee for these trials, + As they but increase my courage." + Then he built anew his dwelling, + And soon found an entrance open + To the rough hearts of his neighbours. + First the children, then the women, + Listened to his gentle language; + And some of the stubborn fellows + Looked approval, when he showed them + How in Erin, his own country, + They could spear the salmon better; + When he sang them ancient legends-- + How, upon the Caledonian + Cliffs, had raged a mighty battle + With the Romans; and how Fingal + Overthrew young Caracalla. + Then they said: "A strong and mighty + God has sent this man here to us; + And a good God, for this stranger + Bringeth blessing on our fishing." + And in vain the grandam warned them: + "Trust ye not, I pray, the new God + Of the Franks and false King Clovis!" + + + Yes, he touched these hearts so rugged + Taught to them the Christian doctrine; + And they understood that giving + Is more blessed than receiving; + That it was the Son of God who + On the cross for men did suffer. + Hardly had a year passed over-- + 'Twas Palm-Sunday--when descended, + From the slopes of all the mountains, + A great throng, who then rowed over + To the isle of Fridolinus. + Peacefully there on the island, + Sword, and shield, and axe they laid down; + And the children gaily gathered + For themselves the willow blossoms + And sweet violets by the river. + From his hut came Fridolinus, + Fully robed in priestly vestments; + By his side walked his companions + Who had come from distant places: + Gallas from Helvetia; also + From the Bodensee Columban. + And they led down to the shore then + The great throng of the converted, + And baptised them in the name of + Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. + + + She alone did not come with them + To the isle of Fridolinus, + She the old and stubborn grandam; + And she said: "No new gods need I, + As my life is fast declining. + I'm contented with the old ones, + Who to me are kind and gracious, + Who once gave me my dear husband-- + My good, noble Siegebert. + When'er Death from here should take me, + I could never hope to find him; + And for him my heart is yearning. + In the woods I must be buried, + Where the mandrake grows 'neath fir-trees + Which with mistletoe are covered. + I don't wish a cross on my grave, + Shall not envy it to others." + On that very day, however, + Fridolin laid the foundations + Of the cloister and the city; + And his work waxed ever greater, + And afar throughout the country + Was the holy man revered. + When again he paid a visit + To King Clovis' court, in Paris, + On his right the king did place him, + And then solemnly donated + The whole island to his cloister, + And, besides, large tracts of country; + Even a great saint became he. + Have ye never heard the legend + Of the court-day, and Count Ursus, + Which the statues o'er the church door + Have preserved e'en to the present? + A great saint, indeed, became he, + And is still the Rhineland's patron. + To this day prevails the custom + That the peasants have their first-born + By the name of Fridli christened. + + * * * * + + On the sixth of March young Werner + Gaily parted from the glebe-house; + Gratefully he shook the hand of + The good pastor, who sincerely + Wished him a most pleasant journey. + And the old cook was completely + Reconciled unto the stranger; + Bashfully she cast her eyes down + To the ground, while deeply blushing, + When young Werner, out of mischief, + Kissed his hand to her, when leaving. + Barking ran the two St. Bernards + A long distance with our rider. + + + Bright and warm the sun was shining + On the town of Fridolinus; + Solemn peals afar resounded, + From the organ of the minster, + As young Werner through the gate rode. + Quickly found he first good shelter + For his horse, and then he walked on + To the crowded lively market, + Went up to the old Cathedral, + And he stood with head uncovered + By the portal, where was passing + Then the festive long procession. + + + Through the war the precious relics + Of the Saint had been well hidden + In old Laufenburg's strong castle. + They had often in the city + Missed their presence with much sorrow. + Now that peace once more was settled, + They were striving with fresh ardour + To do honour to their saint. + At the head of the procession + Came gay troops of merry children. + But when they too loudly prattled, + Then their old and gray-haired teacher + Pulled them by the ear and scolded: + "Keep quite still, my little people! + Take great care, for Fridolinus + May be listening to your gabbling. + He, a Saint severe and holy, + Will complain of you in Heaven." + Twelve young men came next, who bore the + Coffin, rich with gold and silver, + Which enclosed the Saint's remains. + Bearing it they chanted softly: + + + Thou who dwellest high in Heaven, + Bless thy people and thy city, + Stretch o'er us thy arms of mercy, + Fridolinus, Fridolinus! + Grant us further thy protection; + From all danger mayst thou guard us, + War and pestilence keep from us, + Fridolinus, Fridolinus! + + + Then the Dean and all the Chaplains + Followed after--bearing tapers + Came the youthful Burgomaster, + Came the town's wise Corporation + And the other dignitaries: + Bailiff, Revenue-receiver, + Syndic, Notary, Attorney, + And the old Chief Ranger also. + (He came only for decorum, + For with Mother Church and Saints' Days + He was not upon good footing, + Prayed much rather in the forest.) + E'en the Messenger and Sergeant + Did not then, as was their custom, + Take a morning draught together, + But joined gravely the procession. + Then in dusky Spanish mantles, + Ornamented with white crosses, + Came the great Teutonic Order, + All the Knights and their Commander. + Down the river stood in Beuggen + The Teutonic Order's Castle + Whence at early dawn of morning + All these knights had come on horseback. + + + Then came black-robed, grave and aged, + Noble ladies of the Convent, + And in front by the blue standard + Walked the aged Lady Abbess, + And her thoughts were: "Fridolinus, + Though thou art so full of kindness, + One thing thou canst ne'er restore me, + 'Tis my youth, so fair and golden. + It was charming fifty years since, + When my cheeks were red like roses, + And when many knights were captured + In the meshes of my glances! + Long have I done penance for this, + And I hope it is forgiven. + Deeply wrinkled is my forehead, + While the cheeks and lips are faded. + And the sunken mouth is toothless." + + + Next the train of noble ladies + Came the burghers' comely housewives, + At the end the elder matrons. + Only one in work-day garments + Kept aloof from the procession, + 'Twas the hostess from the ancient + Tavern of the "Golden Button;" + So demanded ancient custom. + There--so learn we from the legend-- + Stood once in those heathen ages + An old tavern; Fridolinus, + When he first upon the island + Set his foot, had there sought shelter; + But the landlord, a rude heathen, + Spoke unto the holy man thus: + "All you priests are good for nothing, + But to vilify our old gods; + And you seldom carry even + One red farthing in your pocket. + So begone from off my threshold!" + Now the purse of Fridolinus + Had indeed but little in it, + And he had to take his night's rest + Underneath the shady lindens + In the meadow. But the angels + Cared well for him, and he found out, + On awaking, that his purse was + Filled with golden Roman pieces. + Then again the Saint did visit + The inhospitable tavern, + Took a meal, and paid in shining + Money what the host demanded; + And to shame him left moreover + Seven gold coins as a present. + Thus for an eternal warning + To all landlords void of pity, + Although ages had elapsed since, + No one from the "Golden Button" + Could join in the Saint's procession. + + + As the flowers in the mown field + Gaily bloom 'mid dried up stubble, + So close by the elder matrons + Walked the lovely group of maidens, + Clad in snow-white festive garments. + Many old men, as they saw them + Passing by in youthful beauty, + Thought: "Upon our guard we must be, + For these maidens are as dangerous + As a Swedish regiment." + In the front they bore a statue + Of Our Lady, dress'd most richly, + In a purple velvet garment, + Which they had presented to her, + As a grateful holy offering, + When the weary war was ended. + In that lovely file the fourth one + Was a slender, light-haired maiden; + On her curls, a wreath of violets, + Over which the white veil floated, + And it covered half her features, + Like the hoar-frost in the Spring-time + Glistening on the early rosebud. + With her eyes cast down she passed by + Where young Werner now was standing. + He beheld her. Had the sun then + Blinded suddenly his eyesight, + Or the fair young maiden's beauty? + + + Although others still came past him, + Rooted to the spot he stood there, + Looking only at the fourth one, + Gazed, and gazed; when the procession + Turned the corner of a side street + Still he gazed, as if the fourth one + In the file he must discover. + "He is caught!" so goes the saying + In that country, when one's soul is + By the wand of love enchanted; + Love can never be our captive, + We are wholly conquered by him. + So beware, my young friend Werner! + Joy and sorrow hides the saying: + "He is caught!" I need not say more. + + + + + FOURTH PART. + + YOUNG WERNER'S ADVENTURES ON THE RHINE. + + + Mirth now reigned within the city. + Those who early had united + In the honoured Saint's procession, + Now sat, equally united, + Drinking the good wine before them, + Or the golden foaming beer. + Corks were popping, glasses ringing; + Many huge and mighty goblets + By the guests were emptied quickly, + In St Fridolinus' honour. + Simpering with delight, the landlord + Counted all the empty barrels, + And, with a devout expression, + Chalked them all upon the blackboard. + From the inn outside the gate, which + By the peasants was frequented, + Came gay music; for, with legs crossed, + There sat, playing on his fiddle, + Schwefelhans, the violinist; + And in wild and boisterous dances + Were the Hauenstein young peasants + Twirling round their buxom partners. + Groaning was the floor, and shaking + 'Neath their feet and heavy stamping, + From the walls the plaster falling, + So uproarious was their shouting. + From afar, with turned-up noses, + Many dandies looked on sneering; + Yet, within themselves were thinking: + "Better, after all, than nothing." + + + The sedate and older people + Sat together in the tap-room. + As their ancestors delighted + To get drunk in Woden's honour, + So, in true historic spirit. + They for Fridolin got tipsy. + Many troubled faithful consorts + Pulled their husbands by the coat-tail, + When the second and the third piece + Of hard money here was squandered; + But the husband said quite coolly: + "Dearest wife, control thy humour, + For to-day all must be spent here!" + And he left not till the watchman + With the halberd came and ordered + That 'twas time to close the tavern. + With uncertain steps, ill-humoured, + To his mountain-home he totters: + And the silent night is witness + Of some sudden headlong tumbles. + But she covers them with darkness-- + Kindly--as she does the beating + Which, as finish to the feasting, + He bestows on his poor consort. + + + Lonely, far-off from the bustle, + Walked young Werner toward the Rhine-strand, + Without thinking where he wandered. + Still before his eyes there hovered + Those sweet features of the maiden + Which he had beheld that morning, + But now seemed a dream's fair vision. + Burning was his brow; his eyes now + Restlessly strayed up to heaven, + Then he cast them meekly downward, + As if asking where to find her; + And he did not mind the north wind, + Which his locks dishevelled sadly. + Through his heart hot glowing thoughts ran + Wildly chasing one another, + Like the mist, which in the autumn + Moves around the tops of mountains + In most oddly-changing shapes; + And it rang and surged within him, + Like the first germ of a poem + Growing in the mind's recesses. + + + Also, thus, in bygone ages, + By the Arno strolled another + Child of man, plunged in deep musing; + And he also blew the trumpet, + Which, like that of the last judgment, + Rang aloud, in piercing notes, through + His benighted rotten age. + But when he, upon that feast-day, + First beheld the wondrous maiden + Who his leading star through life was, + And to Paradise did lead him; + He then wandered by the river, + Under shady oaks and myrtles; + And, for all the joyful feelings + Which within his heart were ringing, + He could only find the utterance: + "Beatrice! Beatrice!" + And thus, after many thousand + And still thousand years have rolled by, + Others, who with love are stricken, + Dreamily will walk the same way. + And whenever the last scion + Of the Germans on the Rhine-shore + Has been gathered to his fathers, + Then will others walk and muse there, + And in gentle foreign language + Murmur the sweet words: "I love thee!" + Do you know them? They have noses + Somewhat flattened out and ugly; + By the Aral and the Irtish, + Now their ancestors drink whisky, + But to them belongs the future. + + + Youthful love, thou pearl so precious, + To the wounded heart a balsam, + To life's tossing ship an anchor, + Oasis in sandy deserts; + Never would I venture singing + Any new song to thy honour. + I'm one of the Epigoni; + And great hosts of valiant people + Lived before King Agamemnon. + I know also wise King Solomon, + And the petty German poets. + Bashful only, and most grateful, + I recall thy gentle magic. + As a golden light it shineth + Through the mists of youth, and clearly + To our view unveils life's outlines; + Shows us where to plant our footsteps, + And gives courage to the wanderer. + Lofty hopes and timid longing, + Dauntless thoughts and stubborn courage, + All these do we owe to Love; + And the cheerful heart that helps us, + Like a mountain-staff, to spring o'er + Rocks which lie upon our pathway. + + + Happy, therefore, is the heart which + Love triumphantly has entered! + But young Werner seemed unconscious + Why he thus to-day was strolling + Idly here along the river. + Dreamily he walked close by it, + Heedless of the waves which often + Gave his boots a thorough wetting. + + + From the river's depths gazed at him + Then the Rhine, who just the battle + Of two aged crabs was watching, + And with noisy, ringing laughter, + Nodded praises, when in rage they + Crossed their horny claws together. + Yes, the Rhine--he is a handsome + Youthful man, and not alone a + Geographical conception-- + For young Werner he felt pity. + Rustling rose he from the water, + In his locks a wreath of rushes, + And a reed-staff in his right hand. + Werner, like all Sunday children, + Saw much more than other mortals; + So he quickly recognised him, + And made him a low obeisance. + + + Smiling then to him the Rhine said: + "Have no fear, my dear young dreamer, + For I know where thy shoe pinches. + Ye are strange and odd, ye mortals; + Ye believe ye bear a secret + Through the world in lonely musing, + And each chafer understands it; + E'en the gnats and the mosquitoes + See it on your heated foreheads, + See it in your tearful glances, + That Love holds you in his meshes. + Have no fear, I know what love is; + I have heard upon my journeys + Many false and many true vows + Whispered in Romansh and German, + Also in the Low Dutch language + (In the last oft most insipid). + Nightly likewise have I listened + Near the shores to much flirtation + And much kissing, yet kept silent. + Many a poor devil also, + In whose heart deep grief was gnawing, + In my waves found peace and comfort. + When the water-nymphs had gently + Lulled him there to sleep, I bore him + Off with care to shores far distant. + Under willows, under rushes, + Far from tongues of deadly malice, + Rest is sweet to false Love's victims. + Many thus have I so buried; + I have also harboured many + On the river's deep cool bottom + In my crystal water-palace; + Lodged them well so that they never + Longed for man, nor for returning. + + + "Have no fear, I know what love is. + I myself feel something tightening + Round my heart, when I the Schwarzwald's + Mountains greet, and jump rejoicing + O'er Schaffhausen's precipices, + Force my way with courage, rushing + Through the straits of Laufenburg. + For I know that soon my lovely + Schwarzwald child, the youthful Wiese, + Comes to meet me, bashful, timid; + And she prattles, in the rough speech + Of the Almains, of the Feldberg, + Of the ghosts beheld at midnight, + Of sweet mountain flowers, and huge + Caps and thirsty throats at Schopfheim. + Yes, I love her, I have never + Gazed enough at her blue eyes yet. + Yes, I love her, I have never + Kissed enough her rosy cheeks yet. + Oft I rush, like thee, a dreamer, + Wildly past old sober Basel, + Get quite tired of the tedious + Old town-councillors, and ruin + Now and then a wall in passing. + And they think, it was in anger, + What was only done in frolic. + Yes, I love her. Many other + Charming women much pursue me; + None, however,--e'en the stately, + Richly vine-clad, blue-eyed Mosel-- + Ever from my heart can banish + Thee, the Feldberg's lovely daughter. + When I through the sands of Holland + Weary drag my sluggish waters, + And I hear the wind-mills clapper, + Tender longings oft steal o'er me + For my early lovely sweetheart. + Then with deep dull sound my waves roll + Onward through the tedious meadows, + Roll out far into the North Sea, + But not one there understands me. + + + "Have no fear; I know what love is. + Ye I know, ye German dreamers + Who on my fair shores are dwelling. + I, indeed, am your true likeness, + Am the history of your nation; + Storm and passion, bitter ending, + All are pictured in my course. + Most romantic is my birthplace, + And weird Alpine spirits watched well + By my glittering icy cradle, + And conducted me to daylight. + Strong and wild was I in childhood; + Never can the rocks be counted, + Which I roaring dashed to pieces, + And hurled up like balls at tennis. + Fresh and gay I then float onward, + Through the Swabian sea, and carry, + Unimpaired, my youthful powers + Farther to the German country. + And once more come up before me + All the fragrant recollections + Of romance; my youthful dreaming + Sweetly then returns transfigured: + Foam and surging, strong-walled cities, + Rocks and castles, quiet cloisters, + Smiling vineyards on the hillside; + From the tower calls the watchman, + And the pennon gaily flutters, + And from yonder cliff is ringing + Wondrously the Lurley's song. + But, alas! the good time passes; + Nought but grief is then my portion; + I devote myself to drinking, + Pray at Coeln in the Cathedral, + And become a beast of burden. + Shabby tradesmen must I serve then, + On my ill-used back must carry + All the Dutchman's clumsy tow-boats. + In the sand, to me so hateful, + Wearily my way I drag on, + And I've long been dead already, + Ere my grave, the sea, receives me. + So beware of such stagnation! + + + "Yes, I can much more relate thee; + I to-day am in good humour, + And I love all jovial fellows, + Who like thee and like myself face, + Gaily with light hearts, the Future. + But I'll end this long discourse now, + And will give thee my best counsel. + I know well that thou art love-struck, + Know, thou lovest Margaretta, + The old Baron's lovely daughter, + Whose old castle standing yonder + Is in my green waves reflected. + Oft I see with joy the maiden + Standing there upon the terrace, + And I'll gladly take thee near her. + There's the boat and there's the rudder; + All the rest may well be trusted + To thy own instinctive wisdom." + Saying this, he shook his locks, and + Dived beneath the water's surface; + And the foaming surging waves then + Closed the whirlpool where he vanished. + And afar rang out his laughter, + For, the battle of the crab had + Ended now, one lay there bleeding, + Of the tail bereft the other. + + + Werner did as he was counselled. + An old tower was there standing + By the shore, half in the river; + And where through a secret wicket + To the strand came down the fisher, + Was a quiet hidden inlet, + Where lay boat and rudder ready. + As the boatman kept the feast-day, + So without permission Werner + Took possession of the boat there. + In the meantime evening crept on: + Here and there rang from the mountains + Clear and sharp, a shouting from some + Tipsy peasant going homeward. + O'er those distant pine-tree forests + Streamed the moonlight through the valley; + Bashfully some stars already + From the clear blue sky were peeping. + From the shore shoved off young Werner. + As a horse, when in his stable + Long imprisoned, gaily prances, + Neighs with joy, when he can carry + Through the fields again his master: + So shot boldly swiftly downward, + On the water gaily bounding, + The light boat, and speeding onward + Passed the walls of the old city. + Soon it gained the ancient Rhine bridge, + Which with timber-covered arches + Boldly spans from shore to shore. + And courageously young Werner + Steered right through below the third pier, + Laughing, when, as if to vex him, + Three times up and three times downward + Danced his boat, seized by the whirlpool + Soon he now beheld the castle + With its gable-roofs and turrets, + Shining through the lofty chestnuts, + All illumined by the moonlight. + Yonder rose up from the river + By the shore a bank of gravel, + Bare and barren; it was often + Flooded over by the river. + Out of fun the country people + Called it field of Fridolinus. + Thither now the frail boat drifted; + There it halted on the shelving + Pebbly ground. Out jumped young Werner, + And he looked with eager glances + Whether he could not descry her. + He could only see a distant + Twinkling light up in the turret; + But this wholly satisfied him. + Often doth a distant vision + More delight bestow upon us + Than the fulness of possession; + Hence our Song dwells on his pleasure, + As he stands there on the sand-bank + At that light in rapture gazing. + Spread before his dreamy eyes lay + Rosy visions of the future; + Neither sun nor stars shone in them, + Nothing but that light's faint glimmer. + From the turret, where it flickered, + Love flew forth, on rapid pinions, + Noiselessly to him descended, + And unseen stood there beside him + On the field of Fridolinus; + And he handed him the trumpet + Which from Werner's neck was hanging, + Saying: Blow your trumpet, blow it! + + + And he blew until his blowing + Filled with melody the night air. + In the depths the Rhine was listening, + Salmon, trout, and pike were listening, + Water-nymphs were listening also, + And the wind the ringing tones bore + To the castle tenderly. + + + + + FIFTH PART. + + THE BARON AND HIS DAUGHTER. + + + Now, my Muse, thy powers summon! + For thy path leads to the Baron + And the lovely Margaretta. + Now be circumspect and courteous; + For, an aged trooper-colonel + Might with thee and others like thee + Not be very ceremonious; + But might throw thee down the staircase, + Which is steep and very slippery, + And might prove injurious to thee. + Now, my Muse, mount upward to the + Castle gate, behold there sculptured + The three balls upon the scutcheon. + As in the armorial bearings + Of the Medici in Florence-- + Signs of ancient, noble lineage; + Now ascend the steps of sandstone, + Loudly knock at the great hall door, + Then step in and give report of + What thou there hast slyly noticed. + In the spacious, lofty knights' hall, + With its walls of panelled oak-wood. + And with rows of old ancestral + Dusty portraits decorated, + There the Baron took his comfort, + Seated in his easy arm-chair + By the cheerful blazing fire. + His mustache was gray already; + On his forehead, which a Swedish + Troopers sword had deeply scarred once, + Many wrinkles had been furrowed + Also by the hand of Time. + And a most unpleasant guest had + Taken quarters uninvited + In the left foot of the Baron. + Gout 'tis called in vulgar parlance, + But if any learned person + Rather podagra should call it, + I shall offer no objection; + Not the less will be its torments. + Just this day the pangs were milder, + Only now and then increasing, + When the Baron, smiling, spoke thus: + + + "Zounds! 'tis evident that in the + Long and dreadful Thirty Years' war. + E'en this plaguy gout adopted + Something of the art of tactics. + The attack begins in order; + First the skirmishers go forward, + Then the flying columns follow. + Oh, I wish the devil had them, + This whole reconnoitring party! + But not even this sufficeth. + Just as if I had a fortress + In my heart--like guns 'tis roaring. + Then it throbs like storming parties, + Piif! paif! I capitulate." + + + But just then there was a truce held. + So the Baron took his comfort + As he filled out of the stone jug + His large goblet brimming over. + Up by Hallau where the last spurs + Of the Hohe-Randen's ridges + To the Rhine are sloping downward, + Where the vintner, while at labour, + Hears the ceaseless mighty roaring + Of the Rhine-fall by Schaffhausen: + Had the sun with fervent glowing + Ripened well the spicy red wine + Which the Baron had selected + As his usual evening beverage. + And, to heighten his enjoyment, + He puffed out clouds of tobacco. + In his red and simple clay-pipe + Burned the weed from foreign countries, + Which he smoked through a long pipe-stem + Made of fragrant cherry-wood. + + + At the Baron's feet was lying + Gracefully the worthy tom-cat, + Hiddigeigei, with the coal-black + Velvet fur and mighty tail. + 'Twas an heirloom from his long-lost, + Much-beloved, and stately consort, + Leonore Monfort du Plessys. + Hiddigeigei's native country + Was Hungaria, and his mother, + Who was of the race Angora, + Bore him to a Puszta tom-cat. + In his early youth to Paris + He was sent as a fond token + Of the love of an Hungarian, + Who, though far in Debreczin, still + With due reverence had remembered + The blue eyes of Leonora, + And the rats in her old palace. + With the stately Leonora + To the Rhine came Hiddigeigei. + A true house-pet, somewhat lonesome + Did he while away his life there; + For, he hated to consort with + Any of the German cat-tribe. + "They may have," thus he was thinking + In his consequential cat-pride, + "Right good hearts, and may possess too + At the bottom some good feeling, + But 'tis polish that is wanting; + A fine culture and high breeding, + I miss sorely in these vulgar + Natives of this forest-city. + And a cat who won his knight spurs + In fair Paris, and who often + In the quarter of Montfaucon + Has enjoyed a racy rat-hunt, + Misses in this little town here + All that is to him congenial, + Any intercourse with equals." + Isolated, therefore, but still + Ever dignified and solemn + Lived he in this lonely castle. + Graceful through the halls he glided, + Most melodious was his purring; + And in fits of passion even, + When he curved his back in anger, + And his hair stood bristling backward, + Never did he fail to mingle + Dignity with graceful bearing. + But when over roof and gable + Up he softly clambered, starting + On a hunting expedition. + Then mysteriously by moonlight + His green eyes like emeralds glistened; + Then, indeed, he looked imposing + This majestic Hiddigeigei. + + + Near his cat sat the old Baron. + In his eyes were often flashes, + Now like lightning--then more softened + Like the mellow rays of sunset, + As he thought of bygone times. + To old age belongs the solace + Of recalling days of yore. + Thus the aged ne'er are lonely. + The dear shades are floating round them, + Of the dead, in quaint old garments, + Gorgeous once, now sadly faded. + But fond memory blots decay out, + And the skulls once more with beauty + Are arrayed in youthful freshness. + Then they talk of days long vanished, + And the aged heart is beating, + And the fist oft clinches tightly. + As he passes by her turret, + Once again she smiling greets him; + Once again resound the trumpets, + And the fiery charger bears him + Neighing to the throng of battle. + + + So the Baron with good humour + Of the Past review was holding-- + And, when oft he stretched his hand out, + Suddenly grasped at his goblet, + And a deep long draught then swallowed: + Probably a dear and lovely + Vision rose up bright before him. + Oft it seemed as if his memory + Clung to things which gave less pleasure; + For sometimes, without a reason, + Down there came on Hiddigeigei's + Back a kick with cruel rudeness. + And the cat thought it more prudent + Then his resting-place to alter. + + + Now into the hall stepped lightly + The old Baron's lovely daughter + Margaretta,--and her father + Nodded kindly as she entered. + Hiddigeigei's suffering face too + Showed delight as cats express it. + She had changed her festal white robe + For a garment of black velvet. + On her long and golden tresses, + A black cap sat most coquettish, + 'Neath which her blue eyes were smiling + With a matron-like expression; + To the girdle was attached the + Bunch of keys and leather-pocket, + German housewife's badge of honour. + And she kissed the Baron's forehead, + Saying: "Dear papa, don't blame me, + If to-day I kept you waiting. + The old Lady Abbess yonder + In the convent did detain me, + Told me many things of import, + Wisely of old age discoursing, + And of Time, the great destroyer. + The Commander too of Beuggen + Said such sweet things, just as if they + Came right from the comfit-maker. + I was glad, when I could leave them. + For your lordship's further pleasure + Here I am, all due attention. + I am ready, from your favourite + Theuerdank to read aloud now; + For, I know, you like the rougher + Tales of hunting and adventure, + Better than the mawkish sweetness + Of our present pastoral poets. + + + "But, O wherefore, dearest father, + Are you ever, ever smoking + This bad poisonous tobacco? + I am frightened when I see you + Sitting there in clouds enveloped + As in times of fog the Eggberg. + And I'm sorry for the gilded + Picture-frames hung on the walls there, + And the pretty snow-white curtains. + Don't you hear their low complaining, + How the smoke from your red-clay pipe + Makes them faded, gray and rusty? + 'Tis most truly a fine country, + That America which once the + Spanish admiral discovered. + I myself take great delight in + The gay plumage of the parrots, + And the pink and scarlet corals; + Dream at times also of lofty + Graceful palm-groves, lonely log-huts, + Cocoa-nuts, gigantic flowers, + And of mischievous wild monkeys. + I wish almost it were lying + In the sea still undiscovered; + All because of this tobacco + Which has been imported hither. + I can grant a man forgiveness, + Who more often than is needed + Draws his red wine from the barrel, + And could get, if necessary, + Reconciled unto his red nose; + Never to this horrid smoking." + + + Smiling had the Baron listened, + Smiling he puffed many smoke-clouds + From his clay-pipe, and then answered: + "Dearest child, you women always + Thoughtlessly do talk of many + Things beyond your comprehension. + It is true that soldiers often + Take up many evil habits, + Not adapted to the boudoir. + But my daughter finds with smoking + Too much fault; for through this habit + I have won my wife and household. + And because to-day so many + Old campaign tales through my head run, + Do not read to-night. Sit down here; + I will now relate thee something + Of this much-abused tobacco, + And of thy blest angel mother." + + + Sceptically, Margaretta + With her large blue eyes looked at him, + Took her work up to embroider, + Coloured worsted and her needle, + Moved her stool then near the Baron's + Arm-chair, and sat down beside him. + Charming picture! In the forest, + Round the knotty oak thus climbeth + The wild rose in youthful beauty. + Then the Baron at one swallow + Drank his wine, and thus related: + + + "When the wicked war was raging, + I once roved with some few German + Troopers yonder in fair Alsace; + Hans von Weerth was our good colonel. + Swedes and French laid siege to Breisach, + And their camp was all alive with + Stories of our daring ventures. + But who e'er can stand 'gainst numbers? + So one day the hounds attacked us, + Just as if wild beasts they hunted; + And at last, when bleeding freely + From the wounds their fangs inflicted, + We were forced to lay our arms down. + Afterwards the French transported + Us as prisoners to Paris, + Caged us in Vincennes' strong fortress. + 'Damn them!' said our valiant colonel, + Hans von Weerth, 'it was much nicer, + Galloping, with shining sabres + Hostile lines to charge with fury, + Than on this hard bench to sit here, + And to battle with ennui thus. + For this foe there is no weapon, + Neither wine nor even dice-box, + Nothing but tobacco. I once + Tried it in the country of the + Dull Mynheers, and here it also + Will do service; let us smoke then!' + The commander of the fortress + Got a keg of best Varinas + For us from a Dutch retailer, + Got us also well-burnt clay-pipes. + In the prisoners' room commenced now + Such a smoking, such a puffing + Of dense clouds of strong tobacco + As no mortal eyes had seen yet + In the gallant Frenchmen's country. + Full of wonder gazed our jailors, + And the news spread to the king's ears, + And the king himself in person + Came to see this latest marvel. + Soon all Paris rang with stories + Of the wild and boorish Germans, + And of their, as yet unheard of, + Truly wondrous feats in smoking. + Coaches drove up, pages sprang down, + All came to the narrow guard-room, + Cavaliers and stately ladies; + She came also, she the noble + Leonore Montfort du Plessys. + Even now I see her slight foot + Stepping on our rough bare stone-floor, + Hear her satin train still rustling, + And my soldier's heart is beating + As if in the thick of battle. + Like the smoke from the big cannons + Came the smoke out of my clay-pipe; + And 'twas well so. On the same cloud + Which I puffed there in the presence + Of the proud one, sat god Cupid, + Gaily shooting off his arrows, + And he knew well how to hit right. + Out of wonder grew deep interest, + Then the interest fast to love changed, + And the German bear appeared soon + Finer far and nobler than the + Paris lions altogether. + + + "When, at last, the gates were opened + Of our dungeon, and the herald + Brought us tidings of our freedom, + I was then still more a captive + Bound in Leonora's fetters; + And remained thus, and the wedding + Which soon took us home to Rhine-land + Only made the rivets stronger. + When I think of this, I feel that + Tears on my mustache are rolling. + For what now to me remaineth + Of the past so fair, but memory, + And the black cat, Hiddigeigei, + And my Leonora's image. + Thou my child. God give her soul rest!" + + + Speaking thus, he knocked the ashes + From his pipe, and patted gently + Hiddigeigei; but his daughter + Roguishly knelt down before him. + Saying: "Dearest father, grant me + Your entire absolution. + Never shall you hear in future + From my lips an observation + On account of this vile smoking." + + + Graciously the Baron said then: + "Thou hast also been sarcastic + At my drinking oft too freely; + And I have a mind to tell thee + Still a most instructive story, + How in Rheinau in the cloister, + As the guest of the Lord Abbot + I went through a bout of drinking + In the famous wine of Hallau. + But"--the Baron stopped and listened. + "Zounds!" he said, "what's that I hear there? + Whence doth come that trumpet-blowing?" + Werner's music through the March night, + Plaintive soared up to the castle, + Begging entrance like a pet-dove, + Which, returning to its mistress, + Finds the window closed and fastened, + And begins to peck and hammer. + To the terrace went the Baron + And his daughter; Hiddigeigei + Followed both with step majestic. + Through the cat's heart then swept omens + Of a great, eventful future. + All around they looked--but vainly. + For the turret's gloomy shadow + Covered both the bank and Werner. + Like the blowing of the moot, then + Like the clanging charge of horsemen, + Up it mounted to the terrace, + Then died out;--a small boat dimly + They saw moving up the river. + + + Backward stepped the Baron quickly, + Pulled the bell and called his servant + Anton, who came in directly. + "Gain immediate information + Who was blowing here the trumpet + On the Rhine at this late hour. + If a spirit, sign the cross thrice; + If a mortal, greet him kindly, + And command his presence hither, + For with him I must hold converse." + Soldier-like, saluting, turned then + Right about face good old Anton: + "I'll fulfil your lordship's orders." + + + Meanwhile, silently descended + Midnight over vale and city; + And in Margaretta's slumbers + Came a dream most sweet and wondrous: + As she walked to the old minster + Once again in festal garments, + Fridolinus came to meet her; + By his side there walked another, + But 'twas not the dead man who once + Followed him to Glarus court-house; + 'Twas a youth, fair, tall, and slender; + Like a trumpeter he looked, and + Greeted her with lowly reverence; + While Saint Fridolin was smiling. + + + + + SIXTH PART. + + HOW YOUNG WERNER BECAME THE BARON'S TRUMPETER. + + + Master Anton started early + The next morning for the city, + To find out that trumpet blower. + By St. Fridolin's cathedral + He turned off into a side-street. + From the other side there came with + Rapid steps the boatman Martin, + And they met just at the corner, + Bumping up against each other. + "'Pon my soul," cried out the worthy + Anton, as he rubbed his forehead; + "Your thick skull is hard as iron." + "Yours is not upholstered either + With soft wool or springy sea-weed," + Was the boatman's ready answer. + "And what business have you running + Through the city's streets thus early?" + "I can ask the same," said Anton. + "I seek someone who last evening + From the shore my boat unfastened," + Answered him the boatman Martin. + "He may be my man," said Anton. + "When I came down to the river, + There I found my boat turned over + On the shore--the rudder broken, + And the fastening cut asunder. + If a thunderstorm would only + Sweep away these wicked people, + Who like thieves at night are roving + On the Rhine in borrowed vessels." + "And the trumpet blow," said Anton.-- + "But whenever I shall find him, + To the justice I shall take him. + He must pay me; even for the + Black and blue mark which you gave me, + I shall bring a heavy reckoning. + It is shameful how this fellow + Gives me such vexation!" Thus the + Boatman scolding went on farther. + + + "And I do not see myself, why + I should take such extra trouble + To hunt up this mischief-maker," + Said old Anton to himself then. + "Seems to me it is already + Just the time when honest people + For their morning draught are longing." + + + To the "Golden Button's" shady + Tap-room turned the worthy Anton + Now his steps, and through a side-door + In he stepped: he deemed it wiser + Thus to hide before the public + Such an early morning visit. + Many worthy folks already + Had there quietly assembled + O'er their brimming foaming bumpers. + Like red roses shone their faces, + And like radishes their noses. + "Want a big glass?" asked the waitress + Our old Anton, who assented: + "To be sure! hot is the weather, + And when I woke up, already + In my throat I felt a dryness." + So good Anton soon was drinking + From his large Bohemian bumper, + Turning over in his mind well, + How he should despatch his business. + + + In the private room was sitting, + Just then Werner with the landlord, + Who had served for his guest's breakfast + A fine slice of red smoked salmon, + And commenced with the young stranger + An instructive conversation: + On the vintage in the Rhine-Pfalz, + How the price of hops was standing, + How they fared in time of war there. + Now and then, to sound the stranger, + He threw slyly out some questions, + Whence he came and what his business. + Still he gained no satisfaction; + But quite shrewdly thus he reasoned: + + + "He's no bookworm, for he seemeth + Much too martial--nor a soldier + Either, as he looks too modest; + He may be a necromancer, + An adept in all dark witchcraft, + Alchemy, and other black arts. + Wait, I'll catch thee;" and he turned their + Talk to hidden buried treasures, + And to midnight exorcisms. + "Yes, my friend, here near the city + Lies a sandbank in the river. + At the time of Fridolinus + Heaps of gold coin there were buried. + One who knows, a clever fellow, + Could there dig and make his fortune." + + + "I already saw the sandbank," + Said young Werner, "when I rowed there + On the Rhine last night by moonlight." + + + "What, you know it then already?" + Said the landlord much astonished. + "Have I caught thee?" he thought, keenly + Looking at young Werner's pockets, + If he could not hear a jingling + Of great lots of golden money. + + + "Have I caught thee?" also gladly + To himself said worthy Anton. + "It is, after all, the right thing + Thus to take an early potion." + From the spot where he was seated + He had heard their conversation; + And besides upon the table. + By the stranger's sword and cocked hat, + Also lay the sought-for trumpet. + Drawing near, then, he said gravely: + + + "With your leave, if you're no spirit-- + And that seems to me unlikely. + As you've just enjoyed your breakfast-- + Then the Baron sends you greeting, + And invites you to his castle. + I will take you there with pleasure." + Thus he spoke. Young Werner listened, + Half astonished, and went with him. + + + Smirking, thought the cunning landlord: + "You will get it, my young master; + You believed you had full freedom + Thus to rove about the river, + Spying out long-buried treasures. + But the Baron found you out soon, + And will stop your bold proceedings. + Now you'll get it, when he treats you, + From his amply-furnished stores, to + Some of his well-seasoned curses. + Like a top your head will spin then, + And your ears buzz like a beehive. + But this will concern you solely. + If he keep you in a dungeon + Of your horse I'll take possession; + It will well score off your reckoning." + + + Once more in the hall together + Were the Baron and his daughter, + And again he smoked his pipe there, + When the ponderous folding-doors were + Opened, and, with modest reverence, + Werner entered. "If you only," + Said the faithful Anton, "only + Knew, your gracious lordship, what a + Heavy task it was to find him!" + Keenly did the Baron's eyes rest + On young Werner, passing muster; + By her father, lightly leaning + On his arm-chair, Margaretta + Bashfully looked at the stranger, + And with both the first impression + Of each other was most happy. + "It is you, then," said the Baron, + "Who last night have startled us here + With your trumpet-blowing, therefore + I should like to speak to you now." + "This commences well," thought Werner, + And, embarrassed, cast his eyes down + To the ground. But the old Baron, + Kindly smiling, thus continued: + "You believe, perhaps, I shall now + Call you to account for having + Made loud music near the castle? + You are wrong, 'tis not my business; + For no license is here needed + On the Rhine; if anybody + Wants to catch a cold by playing + Late at night there, he may do so. + No, I only wish to ask you, + Whether you would like here often + As last night to blow the trumpet? + But I fear I am mistaken. + You are not by trade a player, + May be one of those damned scribblers, + Secretary to a foreign + Embassy, as many are now + Coaching all about the country, + Just to spoil all that the soldier's + Ready sword had once accomplished?" + "Not bad either," thought young Werner; + Still he liked the Baron's manner. + "I am no professional player," + Said he, "and still less a scribbler. + As for my part, all the inkstands + In the Holy Roman Empire + Might dry up without my caring. + I am not in any service, + But as my own lord and master + I am travelling for my pleasure, + And await whatever fortune + On my pathway may be blooming." + + + "Very good, then," said the Baron. + "If it stands thus, you may well hear + Everything I have to tell you; + But before we go on farther, + With old wine it must be seasoned." + Cleverly his thoughts divining, + Margaretta, from the cellar, + Now brought up two dusty bottles + Which, with spider-webs all covered, + In the sand had lain half-buried; + Brought with them two fine-cut goblets, + Which she filled and then presented. + "This wine ripened long before the + War raged in our German country," + Said the Baron. "'Tis a famous + Choice old wine which grew at Grenzach. + Brightly in the glass it sparkles, + Like pure gold its colour shineth, + And a fragrance rises from it + Like the finest greenhouse flowers. + Master Trumpeter, ring glasses!" + + + Loudly then rang both their goblets. + Emptying his, the Baron spun out + Farther still the conversation. + "My young friend, you know, as long as + This world lasts, there will be people + Who are fond of hobby-horses. + Some are mystics and ascetics, + Others love old wine or brandy. + Some, antiquities are seeking, + Others are for chafers craving; + Many others make bad verses. + 'Tis a curious joke that each one + Much prefers to choose a calling + Most unsuited to his nature. + I thus also ride my hobby, + And this hobby is the noble + Muse of music who regales me. + As King Saul's deep sorrow vanished + At the sound of David's harp once, + So with cheering sounds of music + Do I banish age's inroads + And the gout, my old disturber. + When sometimes in _tempo presto_ + I an orchestra am leading, + Oft I think I'm once more riding + At the head of my brave squadrons. + Right wing, charge the enemy! charge! + At them now you piercing violins! + Fire away you kettle-drums now! + In the town here there are many + Skilful players--though among them + Is a want of sense artistic, + And of connoisseurship, only + Their good will doth hide their failings. + Violin, flute, also viol, + All these parts are well supported + And the contrabass is perfect. + But _one_ player still is wanting; + And, my friend, what is a general + Without orderlies, without a + Fugleman the line of battle, + And a band without the trumpet? + + + "Once 'twas different These old walls can + Hear him still, the valiant Rassmann, + The chief trumpeter of my squadrons. + Ha! that was a noble blowing! + Rassmann, wherefore didst thou die? + + + "Still as clear as on his last day, + Do I see him at the shooting + Festival at Laufenburg. + His mustache was fiercely twisted, + Bright and glistening was his trumpet, + And his riding-boots were shining + Like a mirror; I was chuckling. + ''Tis a point of honour,' said he. + 'I must all these Swiss astonish + With myself and with my trumpet.' + + + "Clear and cheerful rang out yonder + Bugle-horns and trumpets; but as + O'er the choir of forest singers + Sounds the nightingale's sweet warbling, + So above all rang out loudly + Rassmann's wondrous trumpet-blowing. + When we met, his cheeks were scarlet, + And fatigued appeared his breathing. + ''Tis a point of honour,' said he; + And blew on still. Then were silenced + All the trumpeters from Frickthal, + Those from Solothurn and Aarau, + By the trumpeter great Rassmann. + Once again we met, 'twas evening. + In the 'Golden Swan' he sat then; + Like a giant 'mid the pigmies + Looked he in this crowd of players. + Many were the goblets emptied + By the trumpeters from Frickthal, + And from Solothurn and Aarau, + But the most capacious goblet + Was drank out by my brave Rassmann. + And with fiery Castelberger, + Which grows on the Aar by Schinznach, + He at last filled up his trumpet. + ''Tis a point of honour,' said he; + Drank it out at one long swallow. + 'To your health my worthy colleagues! + Thus drinks trumpet-blower Rassmann.' + Midnight had already passed by, + Under tables lay some snoring, + But with steady step and upright + Started Rassmann from the tavern. + On the Rhine with mocking humour + He poured forth a roguish tune yet, + Then a misstep! Poor, poor Rassmann! + Straight he fell into the river, + And the Rhine's tremendous whirlpool + Thundered foaming and engulfed him, + Him the bravest trumpet-blower. + Ha! that was a noble blowing! + Rassmann, wherefore didst thou die?" + + + Deeply moved the Baron told this; + Then continued after pausing: + "My young friend, and think, last evening + On the Rhine a trumpet rang out + Like a greeting from his spirit, + And a tune I heard performed there, + Such a wilderness of sounds, and + Played in Rassmann's finest manner. + If we only had that trumpet, + Then the gap would be filled up well. + And once more I'd lead a full band, + As it were to frays of music. + Therefore hear now my proposal: + Stay with us here in my castle. + Paralysed is now the music + In the forest-city, blow then + New life into her old bones." + + + Thoughtfully spoke then young Werner: + "Noble lord, you do me honour, + But I nourish a misgiving. + Slim and straight have I thus grown up, + Have not learnt the art of bending + My proud back in any service." + + + Said the Baron: "Take no trouble + On that head; because the service + Of the arts enslaves nobody. + Only want of understanding + Makes one lose one's independence. + Be assured, nought is required + Of you but some merry music. + Only, if in idle moments + You would write for me a letter, + Or with my accounts would help me, + I should thank you; for an ancient + Soldier finds the pen a burden." + + + Still young Werner hesitated; + But a glance at Margaretta, + And the clouds of doubt all vanished. + "Noble lord," he said, "I'll stay then, + On the Rhine shall be my home now!" + "Bravo!" said the Baron kindly. + "From the prompting of the moment + Have the best results proceeded; + Evil springs from hesitation. + Master Trumpeter ring glasses! + With the golden wine of Grenzach, + With a hearty grasp of hands thus + Let us seal our new-made contract." + Turning then to Margaretta: + "I present to you, my daughter, + This new member of our household." + Then young Werner's silent greeting + Was returned by Margaretta. + + + "Follow me now through the castle, + My young friend, that I may show you + Where you will abide in future. + In the tower there I have the + Very room for a musician, + O'er the Rhine and mountains looking; + And the radiant morning sun will + Wake you early from your slumber. + There you cosily can nestle. + And the trumpet will sound well there." + + + From the hall they both proceeded. + From the hall the Baron's daughter + Also went, and in the garden + Gathered cowslips and sweet violets, + Also other fragrant flowers, + Speaking to herself: "How lonely + Must the young man feel here, coming + Thus to dwell with utter strangers! + And, besides, the tower-room looks + With its whitewashed walls so naked, + That I think my pretty nosegay + Will do much for its adornment." + + + + + SEVENTH PART. + + THE EXCURSION TO THE MOUNTAIN LAKE. + + + Azure heavens, glowing sunlight, + Bees' low humming, larks' gay carols, + Clear as glass the Rhine's green waters. + On the mountains snow is melting, + In the valleys blossom fruit trees, + May begins his reign at last. + + + In the path before the hall door + Hiddigeigei took his comfort, + Caring only that the sun's rays + On his fur should fall and warm him. + Through the garden walked the Baron + With his daughter, and with pleasure + He beheld the trees in blossom. + "If my life should be preserved still + For a hundred years or longer, + I should always be delighted + With this wonder-breathing May-time. + True, indeed, I set no value + On the May-dew, though the women + Like to wet with it their faces. + I have never seen a soul yet + Who by it improved her beauty; + Have no faith in arts of witchcraft + In the night of St. Walpurgis, + Nor in broomstick-riding squadrons. + Notwithstanding there belongs a + Magic to the month of May. + My old weary bones have suffered + Many painful gouty twinges + From the chilly winds of April. + Now these pains are quite forgotten, + And I feel as if the old strength + Of my youth were through me streaming, + And as if I were once more a + Beardless trim and gay young ensign, + In those days when at Noerdlingen + I fought fiercely, in close combat + With those brave blue Swedish horseman. + So I think, it would be pleasant + To agree, this is a feast-day, + Though no Saint has ever claimed it. + Let us saunter through the forest. + I will breathe the balmy pine air, + And the young folks may try whether + Fortune favours them at fishing. + Yes, to-day I yearn for pleasure. + Anton, get the horses ready." + + + So 'twas done as he had ordered. + In the court, filled with impatience, + Pawed and neighed the fiery horses. + Full of joyful expectation + For the sport were the young people. + Bent on fishing they had carried + The great net up from the river. + Worthy Anton had invited + Many friends of the old Baron, + Also had communicated + With the ladies of the convent; + And, besides, some uninvited + Guests had also here assembled. + When the landlord of the "Button" + Heard the news, he to his wife said: + "To thy care I trust entirely + All the business of the tavern; + In thy hands I lay the keys now + Of the cellar and the larder, + I must join the fishing-party." + Speaking thus he stole off quickly; + Ne'er he missed a hunt or fishing. + + + Strong and hearty looked the Baron, + On his charger firmly seated + Like a bronze equestrian statue. + By his side on her white palfrey + Rode the lovely Margaretta. + Gracefully to her slim figure + Clung in folds her riding-habit; + Gracefully the blue veil floated + From her riding-hat of velvet. + With a steady hand she boldly + Reined her palfrey, who was bearing + With delight so fair a burden. + Watchfully good Anton followed + His fair mistress; also Werner + After them was gaily trotting, + Though at a respectful distance. + For, behind, in solemn grandeur, + Came the big old-fashioned carriage + Of the Lady Princess Abbess, + With three ladies of the convent, + Likewise old and venerable. + They by Werner were escorted. + He made many courtly speeches + To these old and noble ladies, + And broke many flowering branches + From the trees, and most politely + Handed them into the carriage; + So that, struck with his fine manners, + They unto each other whispered: + "What a pity he's not noble!" + + + Up hill steep the road ascended, + And the forest of dark pine-trees + Now received the long procession. + Soon then through the dusky branches + Silver like the mountain-lake shone, + And already merry shouting + Came from thence; for the young people + Of the town had gained the lake-shore + By a shorter steeper path. + At the summit, where the main-road + Took a different direction, + Carriages and riders halted, + And the vehicles and horses + To the servants' care were left. + Full of vigour, through the forest, + Down the hill-slope walked the Baron, + And the ladies followed bravely. + Mosses like the softest velvet + Thickly covered all the ground there, + And descending was not dangerous. + On a ridge, which wide and sunny, + Far into the lake protruded, + Numerous blocks of rock lay scattered. + There the Baron rested, and the + Ladies followed his example. + + + Deep green lake, dense shade of fir-trees, + Many thousand times I greet you. + I who now this song am singing + Of the past, rejoice in you still. + Oh, how oft ye have refreshed me, + When escaping from the daily + Narrowness of petty town life, + Out to you I used to wander. + Often on the rock I've rested, + Which the roots of the old pine-trees + Cling to, while beneath the lake lies + With its gently rippled surface. + In deep shade the shores lie buried, + But the glittering rays of sunlight + Gaily dance across the water. + All around reigned holy silence, + Only heard there was the hammering + Of the pecker on the pine-trees. + Through the fallen leaves and mosses + Rustled softly emerald lizards, + And with clever questioning glances + Curiously they eyed the stranger. + + + Yes, I often lay there dreaming; + And when often still at night-fall + I sat there, I heard a rustling + Through the reeds, the water-lilies + Whispered softly to each other. + Then arose from the deep water + Mermaids, whose fair pallid faces + Brightly shone in the soft moonlight. + Heart overwhelming, mind bewildering, + Were their gliding graceful motions; + And they beckoned me to come there. + But the fir-tree held and warned me: + "Stay thou here on terra firma, + Hast no business in the water." + + + Deep green lake, dense shade of fir-trees, + Oft I think of you quite sadly. + Since those days I've been a wanderer: + I have climbed up many mountains, + And through many lands have travelled, + Looked upon the restless ocean, + And have heard the Sirens singing; + But yet often through my memory + Steal the lake's sweet soothing murmurs, + And soft whispers from the fir-trees, + Home, and love, and youth recalling. + + + Now there was a noisy thronging, + Running, shouting, laughing, joking, + Down beneath there on the shore. + Like a general, stood the cunning, + Skilful landlord of the "Button," + 'Mid the crowd of younger people, + And on every side was giving + His wise counsels, how they might now + Have a good successful fishing. + There behind the rocks a boat lay + In the reeds with brushwood covered, + And with chains securely fastened, + That no poachers should disturb it, + Who might come along at midnight, + And employ it for their fishing. + From its hiding-place they dragged it + Onward to the lake-shore, and there + Placed the heavy net within it. + Closely netted were the meshes + Of the coarsest twine, while many + Leaden weights thereon were fastened. + When they tried the boat for leakage, + Although somewhat out of order, + They pronounced it quite seaworthy. + Now the landlord and five comrades, + Gay and hopeful, took their places, + And one end of the great net threw + To some friends on shore remaining, + With the charge to hold it tightly. + From the shore they pushed away now, + Rowing stoutly as the net sank + Slowly down in a wide curve; + Then returned with speed much lessened, + Always dragging on the heavy + Bulky net, so that the fishes + Might therein become entangled. + On the shore they sprang out quickly, + And drew after them the netting, + Till they nigh approached those friends who + Still upon the shore were waiting. + Stoutly pulling back the ends, they + Raised the net out of the water, + In great hopes of lots of booty. + But within itself entangled + It came slowly to the surface + Empty: some unskilful rower + Had prevented it from sinking, + And the dwellers of the lake laughed + To have just escaped such danger. + Now the landlord cast sharp glances + Over all the meshes. Nothing + Met his anxious gaze but water; + Not the smallest fish was caught there; + Only an old boot half rotten, + And a toad half crushed and flattened, + Which with eyes protruding oddly + Looked upon the sunlit forest, + And the human faces round him, + And he thought: "It is most truly + Wonderful, how anybody + Ever can enjoy existence, + With this sky and this bright sunlight! + Well, it seems to me no one here + E'er can have the slightest notion + Of the mud and all its splendour. + Would I were in my own element!" + + + Those who stood upon the lake-shore + Raised a long and roaring laughter + At these first-fruits of the fishing. + But in rage broke out the landlord, + O'er their laughter rang his scolding: + "Stupid fellows, bunglers, numskulls!" + And with angry kicks he sent then + All the booty flying swiftly, + Boot and toad in peace together + To the water where they came from. + Loudly splashing they sank downward. + + + But the disappointed fishers + Would again now try their fortune, + Loosened all the tangled meshes, + And with greatest care they lowered + Then the net and raised it slowly. + And to do so there were needed + Many sturdy pulls and struggles. + Ringing shouts and cries of triumph + Greeted this successful fishing. + From the rock came down the Baron + To the fishers, and the ladies + Eagerly made haste to follow. + Over rocks and thorny brambles + To the shore they found a pathway. + Margaretta followed also, + Notwithstanding her long habit. + When young Werner saw her coming, + Bashfully his arm he offered, + And bewildered were his senses. + So Sir Walter Raleigh's heart once + Must have beaten, when his mantle + He made use of as a carpet + For his gracious royal mistress. + Yet with thanks fair Margaretta + Werner's arm and aid accepted. + Out there in the verdant forest + Many useless scruples vanish, + Which oft elsewhere greatly trouble + Masters of the ceremonies. + The descent there was not easy, + And no other arm was near her. + + + By the lake they gaily looked now + At the fishing booty struggling. + Flapping in the net's strong meshes + Were the captives. Many snapping + Sought a way still for escaping, + But on the bare sand were landed; + And thus fruitless was their trial. + Those who felt toward each other + In the depths such bitter hatred, + Now as captives were quite peaceful: + Snake-like eels, so smooth and slippery, + Well-fed carps with huge broad noses, + And the pirate-fish, the slender + Pike with jaws large and voracious. + As in war, the harmless peasants + Often to stray shots fall victims, + So the fate of being captured + Many others overtook: + Handsome barbels, spotted gudgeons; + Tiny bleaks, the river-swallow; + And through all this crowd of fishes + Sluggishly the crab was creeping; + Inwardly he sadly grumbled: + "Caught together, hung together." + + + Well contented said the Baron: + "After labour comes amusement. + Seems to me, that our fresh booty + Will taste better in the forest. + Therefore let us now make ready + For ourselves a rustic dinner." + To these words they all assented, + And the landlord of the "Button" + Sent out two fleet-footed fellows + To the city with the order: + "Two large pans bring quickly hither; + Bring me golden fresh-made butter, + Also bread, and salt sufficient, + And a keg of fine old wine. + Bring me lemons too, and sugar; + For I feel a premonition + As if May-drink would be wanted." + Off they started. Under shelter + Of a rock with a tall pine-tree, + Some the hearth were getting ready, + Bringing there dry boughs and fagots, + Loads of furze and moss together. + Others now prepared the fishes + For the feast, and all the ladies + Gathered herbs of spicy fragrance, + Such as thyme and leaves of strawberries; + Also gathered for the May-wine + The white-blooming fragrant woodroof. + Which rejoiced at being broken + By such tender hands, and thought thus: + "Sweet it was in these dark pine-woods, + To be blooming, 'mid the rocks here, + But still sweeter in the May-time + 'Tis to die, and with the last breath + Highly then to spice the May-wine + For the joy of human beings. + Death in general is corruption, + But the woodroof's death is like that + Of the morning-dew on blossoms, + Sweetly, without sighs, exhaling." + From the town returning quickly + Came the two fleet-footed fellows, + Bringing stores, as had been ordered. + And soon crackled on the stone-hearth + Cheerfully a blazing fire. + In the pans were frying briskly + What had recently been swimming. + First a mighty pike was served up + To the ladies by the landlord, + As a show of rustic cooking; + And a solemn earnest silence + Soon gave evidence that all were + Very busy with the banquet. + Only the confused low sounds of + Gnawing fish-bones, munching crab-claws, + Now disturbed the forest quiet. + + + Meanwhile, farther up, delicious + Fragrant May-wine was preparing. + In a bowl of size capacious + Margaretta's taste artistic + Well had brewed it; mild and spicy, + As sweet May himself the drink was. + Every glass she filled up, kindly + Helping all with graceful bearing. + Everybody got his share, and + All were merry round the fire. + + + There the city-teacher also + Stretched himself upon the grass-bank. + From the school he had absconded, + Also to enjoy the fishing. + In his heart he bore a secret, + Had to-day composed a song. + May-wine, May-wine, drink of magic! + Suddenly his cheeks were glowing, + And his eyes were shining brightly. + On the rock he sprang courageous, + Saying: "I will sing you something." + Smiling now, the others listened, + And young Werner stepping forward, + On his trumpet low and softly + Blew a piece first as a prelude. + Then upon the rock the teacher + Raised his voice and sang with fervour. + Werner joined him on the trumpet + Clear and joyful, and the chorus + Also fell in--clear and joyful + Through the forest rang the + + + MAY SONG. + + "A wondrous youth of lovely mien + Rich gifts of joy is strewing; + O'er hill and vale, where'er are seen + His footsteps, light is glowing. + The fresh young green decks hill and lea, + The birds are singing merrily, + While falls in gentle showers + A rain of snow-white flowers. + So in the woods we sing and shout, + Heigh-tralala loud ringing; + We sing, while all things bud and sprout, + To May our welcome bringing. + + + "Young May in humming sounds delights, + Is full of merry capers; + So through the fir-trees swarm great flights + Of golden buzzing chafers. + And from the moss white lilies rise, + Of spring the fairest sweetest prize; + Their bells in tuneful measure + Ring in the May with pleasure. + So in the woods we sing and shout, + Heigh-tralala loud ringing; + We sing, while all things bud and sprout, + To May our welcome bringing. + + + "Now everyone may think, who can, + Of mirth, and love that burneth; + To many an old and worthy man + His youth again returneth. + His shouts resound across the Rhine: + 'O let me in, thou sweetheart mine!' + And voices loud are crying; + Love's darts in May are flying. + So in the woods we sing and shout + Heigh-tralala loud ringing; + We sing, while all things bud and sprout, + To May our welcome bringing." + + + Long the plaudits, loud the clapping, + When it ended. And the ladies + Also seemed delighted with it; + As, indeed, in the loud chorus + Many gentle female voices + Readily could be distinguished. + Margaret in playful humour, + Out of hazel-leaves and holly, + And of violets and crowfoot, + Wound a garland, and said archly: + "This wreath to the most deserving! + But I'm puzzled who shall get it-- + Whether he who sang the May-song, + Or else he who on the trumpet + Played the fine accompaniment." + + + Said the Baron: "In this matter + I will give a just decision. + Ever the first prize is given + To the poet; but a garland + Or a laurel-crown, what are they? + I agree with the old Grecians + Who awarded to the singer + Just the victim's fattest portion, + As the saddle or the buttock. + And I fancy that the teacher's + Stores are not so well provided, + That he'll offer an objection. + Therefore I make him a present + Of the largest pike and carp, which + Still are left among our booty. + But as my young friend, the trumpeter, + Seems disposed less practically, + So you may, in my opinion, + Honour him with your fair garland; + For, indeed, he played not badly." + + + Simpering now the happy singer + Rubbed his hands and blessed the May-time, + As he saw a glowing vision + Of the pan with fishes frying. + But young Werner to the maiden + Bashfully approached, and lowly + Bending on his knee, he hardly + Dared to gaze at her blue eyes. + But with grace placed Margaretta + On his brow the blooming garland, + While a weird and lurid fire-light + Suddenly in fitful flashes + Fell upon the group assembled. + For the embers on the hearth-stone + Had ignited the old pine-tree. + Flaming fiery tongues now glided + Through the branches full of resin; + And the sparks flew crackling upward + Wildly to the evening sky. + + + Margaretta, Margaretta! + Were they fireworks which the pine woods + Fondly burned to do thee honour? + Or did Cupid with his flaming + Love-torch wander through the forest? + But the flames were soon extinguished. + And the Baron now gave orders + That the party should break up; and + Fishers, riders, noble ladies, + All went homeward in the twilight. + Faintly glimmering fell the last bright + Sparks from out the pine-tree branches, + Sinking in the mountain-lake. + + + + + EIGHTH PART. + + THE CONCERT IN THE GARDEN PAVILION. + + + In the garden of the castle + Mighty chestnut trees are standing, + And a pretty gay pavilion. + In the Rhine are deeply sunken + The foundations of the terrace. + 'Tis a quiet cosy corner, + Hidden by a mass of foliage. + While below the waves are murmuring. + + + For the last two months, mysterious + Business has been going on here. + Pots of colours, painting brushes, + Lime and mortar, masons' trowels + And high scaffoldings are rising + To the dome of the pavilion. + Is't some evil spirit's workshop?-- + 'Tis no evil spirit's workshop. + Frescoes here are being painted, + And the legs which there are dangling + From the lofty wooden scaffold, + Are the legs of the illustrious + Fresco-painter Fludribus, + Who returning from Italia + Had been living in the Rhine-land. + He was pleased with the fair country, + And the rosy happy faces, + And the cellars full of wine. + All the people wondered at him + As they would at an enchanter; + For he told them marvellous stories. + In his youth he had been travelling, + And by chance once in Bologna + Came upon the school of artists. + In the studio of Albini + He became a colour-mixer; + And from this most graceful master + He found out with ready cunning + How to paint both gods and heroes, + And the airy little cupids. + Yes, he even helped the master, + Making easy light gradations, + Or preparing the dead colouring. + + + On the Rhine, far round the country + Fludribus was the sole artist. + Painted many tavern sign-boards, + Pictures also for the chapels, + Portraits e'en of brides of peasants. + Stable was his reputation; + For if any criticisers + Would find fault with his great paintings, + That an arm or nose was crooked, + Or a cheek looked too much swollen, + Then he would overwhelm his critics + With the big high-sounding phrases + He had learnt when at Bologna. + Hearing nothing but perspective, + Colouring and soft gradation, + Modelling and bold foreshortening, + Soon they lost their wits entirely. + + + Margaretta, who with faithful + Love had long the matter pondered, + How she would surprise her father + With a pleasure on his birthday, + Spoke to Master Fludribus: + "I have heard it oft related + How in France in lordly castles + They adorn the walls with frescoes. + Therefore try to paint now something + Like them here in my pavilion. + From the world secluded, I know + Naught about such compositions; + Therefore to your taste I leave all, + Only you must work in secret, + As the Baron must know nothing." + + + Fludribus looked consequential: + "Though but trifling is the order, + Still I coincide with Caesar, + And am rather here considered + First than at great Rome the second. + And besides, there all is finished. + Even in the Pope's own palace + All those thoughts high and aesthetic, + Which I in my bosom cherished, + Has a man by name of Raphael + Painted on the walls already. + But I shall great things achieve, + And shall do like Buffamalco, + Who with rich red wine imparted + Glowing warmth to the cold colours. + Therefore, furnish me with red wine + First; of course, good eating with it. + Rich reward I do not care for, + Since the thought is my enjoyment, + That I shall be made immortal + Through the efforts of my genius. + Thus I'll paint for almost nothing, + Just the square foot seven shillings." + + + Since two months he had been painting + On the walls beneath the arched roof; + Imitated Buffamalco; + But he drank himself the red wine. + And his compositions truly + Were artistic, highly proper, + And of elegant conception. + + + To begin with: there paraded + Perseus and Andromeda; + At their feet lay deadly wounded + The great Hydra, with a handsome + Face, much like a human being, + Who in dying still coquetted + With the lovely rock-bound captive. + Then the Judgment came of Paris; + And in order that the dazzling + Beauty of those heavenly ladies + Should not quite eclipse the hero, + They looked off toward the landscape, + With their backs to the spectator. + Similar were the other pictures: + As Diana and Actaeon, + Orpheus and Eurydice. + For the man of genius chooses + From mythology his subjects; + And he thinks, in nudeness only, + Is revealed the highest beauty. + Now the work was all accomplished, + And with feeling, said the master: + "Happy can I go to Hades, + As my works are my memorial. + In the history of this Rhine-land + A new epoch of the fine arts + Will begin with Fludribus." + + + 'Twas the wish of Margaretta + To inaugurate with music + This so beautified pavilion. + Ha! how Werner's heart was beating, + When he heard the maid's desire. + He directly went to Basel + To select the new productions + Of the musical composers; + And he brought the scores back with him + Of the great Venetian master, + Claudio di Monteverde, + Whose sweet pastoral composition + Carried off the prize in music. + Then there was a noisy bustle + 'Mongst the artists of the city; + And a most increasing practice + In the frequent long rehearsals, + All unnoticed by the Baron. + + + Now, at last, the long-expected + Day had come, the Baron's birthday. + At the table he was chatting + With his friend and pleasant neighbour, + The good prelate of St. Blasien, + Who had driven hither early, + To express his heartfelt wishes. + Meanwhile many hands were busy + Decorating the pavilion + With fresh garlands, and were placing + Rows of music-desks in order. + + + By degrees there came now gliding + Through the side-gate by the river + All the musical performers. + First, the youthful burgomaster + Bending under the unwieldy + Contra-bass, whose sounds sonorous + Often from his thoughts did banish + All the cares of his high office, + And the council's stupid blunders. + Next there came the bloated chaplain + Who played finely on the violin, + Drawing from it such shrill wailings, + As if wishing to give utterance + To his lonely bachelor's heart. + With his horn beneath his arm came + The receiver's clerk, who often, + A great bore to his superior, + With his playing did enliven + All the dry accounts he summed up, + And the dulness of subtraction. + There came also stepping slowly, + Dressed in black, but shabby looking, + With a hat the worse for usage, + He the lank assistant-teacher, + Who by Art consoled himself for + What was wanting in his income, + And instead of wine and roast beef + Lived upon his flute's sweet music. + Then came--Who can count, however, + All these instrumental players? + All the talent of the city + For this concert had united. + From the ironworks of Albbruck + Even came the superintendent; + He alone played the viola. + + + Like a troop of mounted warriors + Who the enemy expecting, + Lurk in safe and hidden ambush, + So they waited for the Baron + To arrive. And like good marksmen + Who with care before the battle + Try their weapons, if their powder + By the dew has not been damaged, + If the flint is good for striking; + So by blowing, scraping, tuning, + They their instruments were trying. + + + Margaretta led the Baron + And his guest now to the garden. + Women never are in want of + A good pretext, when some fun or + Some surprise they are preparing. + So she praised the shady coolness + And the view from the pavilion, + Till the two old friends were turning + Toward that spot without suspicion. + Like a volley then resounded + At their entrance a loud flourish, + Every instrument saluting; + And like roaring torrents bursting + Wildly through the gaping sluice-gate, + So the overture let loose now + Its loud storming floods of music + On the much astonished hearers. + With the greatest skill young Werner + Led the orchestra, whose chorus + Gladly yielded to his baton. + Ha! that was a splendid bowing, + Such a fiddling, such a pealing! + Hopping lightly, like a locust, + Through the din the clarinet flew, + And the contra-bass kept groaning, + As if wailing for its soul, + While the player's brow was sweating + From his arduous performance. + + + There behind in the orchestra + Fludribus the drum was beating; + As a many-sided genius, + During pauses, he was also + To the triangle attending. + But his heart o'erflowed with sadness; + And the drum's dull sound re-echoed + His complaints, as dull and grumbling: + "Dilettanti, happy people! + Merrily they suck the honey + From the flowers which with heavy + Throes the Master's mind created; + And they spice well their enjoyment + With their mutual frequent blunders. + Genuine Art is a titanic + Heaven-storming strife and struggle + For a Beauty still receding, + While the soul is gnawed with longing + For the unattained Ideal. + But these bunglers are quite happy." + + + Now the din of sound subsided. + As oft after heavy tempests, + When the thunder ceases pealing, + Mildly shineth forth the rainbow + 'Gainst the canopy of heaven; + So now the full band is followed + By the trumpet's dulcet solo. + Werner blew it: low and melting + Rang the tunes forth from the trumpet. + Full of wonder some were staring + At the score, in wonder also + The fat chaplain nudged the teacher + On the arm, and whispered softly: + "Hear'st thou what he's playing? Nothing + Like it in the score is written. + Has he read perhaps his music + In the fair young lady's eyes?" + + + Splendidly the concert came thus + To an end, and the musicians + Sat exhausted and yet happy + That they had so well succeeded. + Now the prelate of St. Blasien + Stepped forth bowing quite politely + To the band, and as a clever + Connoisseur and statesman spoke thus: + "Heavy wounds have been inflicted + On our land while war was raging, + And throughout our German country + Rudeness was predominating. + Therefore it deserves great praise, thus + With the Muses to take refuge. + This refreshes and ennobles, + Civilises human beings, + So that war and strife are silenced. + All these frescoes on the walls here + Show no ordinary talent; + And still more this feast of music + Makes me think well of the players + Who my ears have thus delighted, + Brought my happy youth before me, + Took me back to fair Italia, + When in Rome I listened to the + Tones of Cavalieri's Daphne, + And idyllic pastoral longing + Filled my heart to overflowing. + Therefore, my dear friends, continue + Thus to worship at Art's altar. + Let the harmony of sound keep + Far from you all strife and discord. + Oh how pleasant it would be, if + Such a spirit were but common!" + + + Deeply moved by these high praises + From a man of such rich knowledge, + The whole orchestra, delighted, + Bowed to him when he had finished. + Highly pleased, the Baron also + Walked around, gave hearty greetings; + And to testify his thanks--for + Words alone don't suit a Baron-- + Ordered from his well-stocked cellars + A huge cask of beer brought up there. + "'Twas well done, my good musicians, + Most efficient chapel-master! + Where the devil have you picked up + All these pretty compositions? + And you, Fludribus, have also + Painted well; suits me exactly. + Other times, 'tis true, may come yet + When our goddesses must wear more + Draperies than you have painted; + But a gray old soldier does not + Blame you for a little nudeness. + Therefore, let us ring our glasses + To our noble guest's good health, and + To the excellent musicians. + Yes, for aught I care, we'll drink to + The fair shivering painted deities, + That the winter in the Rhine-land + May not prove too rigorous for them." + + + Margaretta thought it wiser + Now to leave the room, well knowing + That the party might get noisy. + On the threshold she gave Werner + Her fair hand with grateful feeling. + 'Tis most likely that the pressure + Of the hand was full of meaning; + But no chronicle doth tell us: + Was it homage to the artist, + Or a sign of deeper interest? + + + Glasses rang and foaming bumpers, + And there was some heavy drinking; + But my song must keep the secret + Of the fate of late returners; + Also hide the sudden drowning + Which the hat of the lank teacher + Suffered in the Rhine that night. + + + But at midnight, when the last guest + For his home long since had started, + Low the chestnut trees were whispering. + Said the one: "Oh fresco paintings!" + Said the other: "Oh thou ding dong!" + Then the first: "I see the future-- + See there two remorseless workmen, + See two monstrous painting-brushes, + See two buckets full of whitewash. + And they quietly daub over, + With a heavy coating, heroes, + Deities, and Fludribus. + Other ages--other pictures!" + + + Said the other: "In the far-off + Future I hear from the same place + Glees resounding from male voices. + Rising to our lofty summits, + Simple touching German music. + Other ages--other music!" + Both together added: "True love + Will endure throughout all ages!" + + + + + NINTH PART. + + TEACHING AND LEARNING. + + + Winds and the swift river's current + Hardly had swept off the dulcet + Melodies of Monteverde, + When the people in the city + Held no other conversation + Than of this great feast of music. + Not, however, of the spirit + Of the melodies they'd heard then, + Neither of the deep emotion + Which was in their souls awakened, + Were they speaking; they disputed + Who received the Baron's thanks first + At the end of the performance; + Whom the Abbot had distinguished + Most that evening by his praises; + And what finally was served up + From the kitchen and the cellar. + As the tail of a dead lizard + Still, when life has long departed, + With spasmodic jerks is writhing: + So the memory of great actions + Still lives on in daily gossip. + But with thoughts above such nonsense + Margaretta took an early + Solitary walk next morning + To the honeysuckle arbour, + There to dream of last night's music, + Specially of Werner's solo, + Which still through her soul was thrilling + Like a message of sweet love. + But what saw she? In the arbour + On the little rustic table + She beheld the very trumpet. + Like the magic horn of Huon, + Wondrous mysteries containing; + Dumb, but full of deep expression, + Like a star it sparkled there. + + + Margaretta stood confounded + At the arbour's shady entrance: + "Came he here? And now, where is he? + Wherefore has he left his trumpet + Here so wholly unprotected? + Easily a worm might crawl in, + Or a thief might come and steal it. + Shall I take it to the castle, + Take it in my careful keeping? + No, I'll go, do nothing with it, + Should indeed have gone before." + + + But she tarried, for her eyes were + Held in durance by the trumpet, + Like a shad caught by the fish-hook. + "Oh, I wonder," she was thinking, + "Whether my breath would be able + From its depths a tone to waken. + Oh I much should like to know this! + No one sees what I am doing, + All around no living being. + Only my old Hiddigeigei + Licks the dew from off the box-tree; + Only insects in the sand here + Follow out their digging instinct, + And the caterpillars gently + Up and down the arbour crawl." + + + So the maiden shyly entered, + Shyly she took up the trumpet, + To her rosy lips she pressed it; + But with fright she well-nigh trembled + At her breath to sound transforming + In the trumpet's golden calyx. + Which the air was bearing farther, + Farther--ah, who knoweth where? + But she cannot stop the fun now, + And with sounds discordant, horrid, + Fit to rend the ears to pieces, + So disturbed the morning stillness, + That the poor cat Hiddigeigei's + Long black hair stood up like bristles, + Like the sharp quills of a hedgehog. + Raising then his paw to cover + His offended ear, he spoke thus: + "Suffer on, my valiant cat-heart, + Which so much has borne already, + Also bear this maiden's music! + We, we understand the laws well, + Which do regulate and govern + Sound, enigma of creation. + And we know the charm mysterious + Which invisibly through space floats, + And, intangible a phantom, + Penetrates our hearing organs, + And in beasts' as well as men's hearts + Wakes up love, delight and longing, + Raving madness and wild frenzy. + And yet, we must bear this insult, + That when nightly in sweet mewing + We our love-pangs are outpouring, + Men will only laugh and mock us, + And our finest compositions + Rudely brand as caterwauling. + And in spite of this we witness + That these same fault-finding beings + Can produce such horrid sounds as + Those which I have just now heard. + Are such tones not like a nosegay + Made of straw, and thorns, and nettles, + In the midst a prickly thistle? + And in presence of this maiden + Who the trumpet there is blowing, + Can a man then without blushing + E'er sneer at our caterwauling? + But, thou valiant heart, be patient! + Suffer now, the time will yet come + When this self-sufficient monster, + Man, will steal from us the true art + Of expressing all his feelings; + When the whole world in its struggle + For the highest form of culture + Will adopt our style of music. + For in history, there is justice. + She redresses every wrong." + + + But besides old Hiddigeigei, + Standing far down by the river + There was still another listener + To these first attempts at blowing, + Who felt anger more than pleasure. + + It was Werner. He came early + With his trumpet to the garden, + Wanted to compose a song there + In that quiet morning-hour. + First, however, his dear trumpet + He laid on the rustic table. + Then stood musing by the stone-wall + Gazing at the rapid river. + "Yes, I see, your waves preserve still + Their old course and disposition, + Ever toward the ocean rushing, + As my heart for my love striveth. + Who now from the goal is farthest, + Clear green river, thou or I?" + All this train of thought was broken + By the stork from the old tower, + Who, full of a father's pride, had + Taken his young brood to ramble + On the Rhine-shore for the first time. + 'Twas amusing to young Werner + How just then the old stork gravely, + On the sand with stealthy cunning, + Closely a poor eel was watching, + Who of various worms was making + There a comfortable meal. + He, however, who was wielding + O'er the little worms the strand-law, + Soon himself will serve as breakfast. + For the greater eats the lesser, + And the greatest eats the great ones. + In this simple manner nature + Solves the knotty social question. + No more did his smoothness help him, + No more his sleek body's wriggling, + No more his spasmodic beating + With his tail so strong and supple. + Tightly held in the indented + Beak of the determined parent, + He was given to the hopeful + Stork-brood, now to be divided; + And they held with noisy clatter + Solemnly their morning-feast. + Nearer to observe this, Werner + Had descended to the Rhine-bank, + And he seemed in no great hurry + To commence his composition. + There he sat himself down gently + On the insect-covered moss-bank. + Shaded by a silvery willow, + And it gave him much amusement + Thus to be a silent witness + Of this banquet of the storks. + + + Pleasures, yet, of all descriptions + Are but fleeting on our planet. + Even to the most contented + Doth it happen that fate often + Like a meteor bursts upon them. + Only a short time had Werner + Viewed this scene when he was startled + By the tones of his own trumpet, + Which like keen-edged Pandour daggers + Deep into his soul were cutting. + + + "'Tis the gardener's saucy youngster + Who my trumpet thus is blowing," + Said young Werner, in his anger + Starting from his seat so quickly + That the storks thereby much frightened, + Fluttering upward sought the tower; + And so quickly that they even + Had no time to take the eel off. + Like a poor old torso lay he + On the sand so pitifully; + And the chronicles are silent + Whether the old father stork came + Ever back to take his booty. + + + Werner meanwhile to the garden + Climbed up; to the shady arbour + On the soft green sward he's walking, + That the pebbly footpath may not + By the noise betray his coming. + In the very act of sinning + Doth he wish to catch the rascal, + And to beat time to his music + On his back without relenting. + Thus he comes up to the arbour, + With his hand raised high in anger. + But, as if 'twere struck by lightning, + To his side it dropped down quickly, + And the stroke remained, like German + Unity and other projects, + Only an ideal dream. + Then beheld he Margaretta + Pressing to her lips the trumpet, + And her rosy cheeks are puffed out + Like those trumpet-blowing angels' + In the church of Fridolinus. + Up she starts now as a thief would + In the neighbour's yard detected, + And the trumpet drops abruptly + From the touch of her soft lips. + Werner covered her confusion + Through a clever maze of language; + And with ardour he commences + On the spot to teach the maiden + The first steps in trumpet-blowing + In strict order, with due method; + Shows the instrument's construction, + How to use the lips in blowing, + That true tones may be forthcoming. + Margaretta listened docile. + And before she is aware, new + Tones she finds she is awaking + From the trumpet which young Werner + With low bows had handed to her. + Easily from him she learneth + What her father's cuirassiers blew + As the call to charge in battle; + Only a few notes and simple, + But most pithy and inspiring. + + + Love is, there can be no question, + Of all teachers the most skilful; + And what years of earnest study + Do not conquer, he is winning + With the charm of an entreaty, + With the magic of a look. + E'en a common Flemish blacksmith + Once became through love's sweet passion + In advanced age a great painter. + Happy teacher, happy scholar, + In the honeysuckle arbour! + 'Twas as if the only safety + Of the German empire rested + On this trumpet-call's performance. + But within their souls was stirring + Quite a different melody: + That sweet song, old as creation, + Of the bliss of youthful lovers; + True, a song without the words yet, + But they had divined its meaning, + And beneath a playful manner + Hid the blissful consciousness, + Startled by this trumpet-blowing + Came the Baron reconnoitring, + Tried to frown, but soon his anger + Was converted into pleasure, + When he heard his child there blowing + The old fanfar of his horsemen. + Friendly spoke he to young Werner: + "You are truly in your office + A most ardent zeal unfolding. + If you go on in this manner, + We shall see most wondrous things yet. + The old stable-door which harshly + Creaks and groans upon its hinges, + Even in the pond the bull-frogs + May perhaps change for the better, + Through your trumpet's magic charm." + + + Werner held, however, henceforth + His dear trumpet as a jewel, + Which the richest Basel merchant, + With the fullest bag of money, + Could not ever purchase from him; + For the lips of Margaretta + Made it sacred by their touch. + + + + + TENTH PART. + + YOUNG WERNER IN THE GNOME'S CAVE. + + + From the Feldberg tears a raging + Foaming torrent through the forests + To the Rhine--its name is Wehra. + In the narrow valley standeth + 'Midst the rocks a single fir-tree; + In the branches sat the haggard + Wicked wood-sprite Meysenhartus, + Who to-day behaved quite badly: + Showing his sharp teeth and grinning, + Tore a branch off from the fir-tree, + And kept gnawing at a pine-cone; + Clambered often quite indignant + Up and down just like a squirrel; + From the wings of a poor night-owl + Roughly plucked out several feathers; + And while mocking the old fir-tree + Rocked himself upon its summit. + + + "High old fir-tree, green old fir-tree! + I with thee would ne'er my lot change. + Firmly rooted must thou stand there, + And take everything that happens; + Never canst thou quit thy station. + And if ever Fate ordaineth. + Thou to far-off lands shalt wander, + Men have first to come with axes; + With hard strokes they hack and cut thee, + Deep into thy flesh, till falling; + And then strip unmercifully + All thy skin from off thy body; + Throw thee next into the Rhine, and + Make thee swim as far as Holland. + And if e'er they pay the honour + On a frigate to erect thee + As a proud and stately mast, still + Thou art but a smooth-skinned fir-tree, + Without roots there lonely standing; + And thou yearnest on the ocean + For thy old home in the forest, + Till at last a flash of lightning + Mast and ship and all destroyeth. + High old fir-tree, green old fir-tree! + I with thee would ne'er my lot change!" + + + Said the fir-tree: "Everybody + Must accept the sphere he's born in, + And fulfil his duties fully. + So we think here in the forest; + And 'tis well so, at least better + Than to hop will-o'-the-wisp like, + Playing pranks and doing mischief, + Men and cattle oft misleading, + And the stupid wanderer's curses + As reward home with thee taking. + Anyhow, no one cares for thee. + For, at best, a peasant sayeth, + Devil take this Meysenhartus! + But they're others who write volumes + Proving thou hast no existence; + That to lose one's way at night-time + Comes from fogs and drunken frolics. + Oh the spirit-shares stand badly! + On the highway I would rather + As a paving-stone be lying, + Than to be a third-class spirit, + Like the wood-sprite Meysenhartus." + + + Said the spirit: "Thou knowest nothing + Of all this, my noble fir-tree. + Meysenhartus and his brothers + O'er the globe rule powerfully; + Everywhere throughout creation + Are wrong tracks, and also people + Who upon these same paths wander. + And whenever, gay or mournful, + Someone goes upon a wrong track, + He has been by us deluded. + Let them doubt if there are spirits; + Still they are in our dominion. + And to-day you'll see me leading + Someone far astray to show him + That the spirits are in numbers." + From the hill came Master Werner. + Deeply musing o'er his love-dream + He had wandered through the forest, + And as far as man is happy + Here below, he was; and buoyant + Hope and joy his heart were filling. + Many burning thoughts were passing + Through his brain, as if they shortly + Into love-songs might be growing, + Just as caterpillars later + Into butterflies develop. + Homeward now he would be turning; + But the wood-sprite Meysenhartus + Hid with dust the right path from him, + And young Werner, absent-minded, + 'Stead of river-ward went inland. + Now again the wood-sprite grinning + Clambered to the fir-tree's summit, + Rocking gaily in the branches. + "He is caught!" so said he, mocking. + Werner paying no attention, + Went up through the Hasel valley, + Till he came to a steep mountain, + To a corner cool and shady. + Holly, sloe, and climbing ivy + Grew around the rocks luxuriant, + While near by a clear spring rippled. + + + Through the bushes stepped young Werner + To refresh himself by drinking. + Strongly tangled was the brushwood, + And upon it he trod firmly. + Then upon his ear broke squeaking + Wailing tones, as from a mole which + At his subterranean labour + Caught in traps and now detected, + Roughly is jerked up to daylight. + From the grass rose something crackling; + Lo, there stood a gray-clad pygmy, + Hardly three feet high, and hunchbacked; + But his face was clear and gentle, + And his odd small eyes looked clever. + Gracefully he let the long ends + Of his garment on the ground trail, + And said, limping: "Sir, you have been + Treading on my foot most rudely." + Said young Werner: "I am sorry." + Now the pygmy: "And what business + Have you in our vale at all?" + Said young Werner: "I by no means + Wish to seek for the acquaintance + Of such injudicious pygmies, + Who like grasshoppers are skipping, + And are asking silly questions." + Said the pygmy: "Thus ye all speak, + All ye rude and clumsy mortals; + Ever with your big feet tramping + Till the ground beneath you trembles. + And yet you are only clinging + To the surface like the chafers + Which are nestling in the tree-bark; + Thinking that you rule creation, + But entirely ignoring + All those spirits which, though silent, + On the heights, in depths, are working. + Oh ye rude and clumsy mortals! + Shut up proudly in your houses, + You are groaning with hard labour. + In the hot-house of your noddles + Are some plants called art and science, + And you even brag of such weeds. + By the lime-spar and rock-crystal! + You have much to learn, I tell you, + Ere the truth you will see dawning!" + + Said young Werner: "It is lucky + That to-day I feel so peaceful, + Else I should have taken pleasure + By your long gray beard to hang you + On the holly bushes yonder! + But my heart to-day is glowing + With the sunshine of my love-dreams, + Which you with your spars and crystals + Never can be comprehending. + Oh, to-day I could embrace all, + And be kind to everybody. + Say then who you are, and whether + I can be of any service." + + + 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." + + + Said young Werner: "I am ready." + Thereupon the little pygmy + From the rock pushed back some brushwood, + When appeared a small low passage. + "Light is needed here for mortals," + Said the gnome, who now was rubbing + Two hard flints, and soon had lighted + By the sparks a piece of pine-wood. + With this torch he went ahead then; + Werner followed, often stooping, + Often even well-nigh creeping, + For the rocks were nearly meeting. + Soon, however, widely opened + At the passage end a cavern + Of gigantic height and grandeur. + Slender columns there supported + Lofty arches of the ceiling; + From the walls the gray stalactites + Hung in various patterns twining, + Marvellous, yet graceful textures; + Some like tears which from the walls dropped, + Others like the richly twisted + Branches of gigantic corals. + An unearthly bluish colour + All throughout the space was glowing, + Mingled with the glaring torch-light + From the sharp-edged stones reflected. + From the depths a rushing sound rose + As from distant mountain-streams. + Werner gazed at all this splendour, + Felt as in a dream transported + To some strange and lofty temple, + And his heart was filled with awe. + + + "My young friend," now said the pygmy, + "Tell me, pray, what are you thinking + Of the gnome's secluded dwelling? + This is but a place for work-days. + Fairer ones far in the North lie, + Also in the Alpine caverns; + But Italia owns the fairest, + On the rocky shore of Capri, + In the Mediterranean Sea. + O'er the sea's blue waters rise up + The stalactites' lofty arches, + And the waves in the dark cavern + With blue magic light are gleaming, + And the tide protects the entrance. + The Italian gnomes there often + Bathe and frolic with the daughters + Of old Nereus, the sea-god, + And the sailor shuns the grotto. + But perhaps in later ages + May a sunday-child look in there, + Like thyself a travelling minstrel, + Or a merry-hearted artist. + But now, come, we must go farther!" + + + Downward stepped he with the torch-light + Ever farther, Werner saw how + Huge chaotic rocky masses + Lay in heaps of wild confusion, + Over which was rushing foaming, + To the bottomless abyss, a river. + Over steep and high rocks clambering, + They now entered a new passage. + It looked home-like, a large square-room, + Of high rocky walls constructed, + Fitted for a hermitage; + Round about stood slender columns. + Ever dropping from the ceiling + And through centuries increasing + Had stalactites slowly formed them; + And some others stood half finished + In the process of formation. + Now the gnome knocked on the columns, + And mysterious solemn tones rang + Out in deep harmonious rhythm. + "They are tuned," he said, "according + To the harmony of the spheres." + + + In this room a rock was lying. + Smooth and round, just like a table; + And there motionless and silent + Sat a man--looked as if sleeping, + Leaned his head upon his right hand. + Stony were his lordly features, + And the flame of life no longer + Played o'er them; and doubtless many + Tears had his sad eyes been shedding. + Petrified they now were hanging + In his beard and from his robes. + Werner gazed at him with terror + And he asked: "Is this a statue, + Or a man of flesh and blood?" + + + Said the gnome: "This is my guest here, + 'Tis the _silent man_, whom many + Years I've comfortably sheltered. + Once he was a proud old mortal, + And I found him in the valley, + And I offered then to show him + Where to find the nearest village. + But he shook his head and broke out + In a mocking scornful laughter. + Marvellously grand his words were, + Now like prayers devout and pious, + Like a psalm, such as we gnomes sing + Often in the earth's vast bowels; + Then like curses unto heaven. + Much I could not understand. + But it woke the recollections + Of the days of time primeval, + When the wild ferocious Titans + Rocks and mountains tore up o'er us + From their firm and deep foundations, + And we fled to greater depths. + For the man I felt great pity, + And I took him to my cavern; + And he liked it, when I showed him + All the gnomes' incessant labours; + And directly felt at home here. + Oft together have we listened + To the growing of stalactites, + Chatted also many evenings + Of the things below us hidden; + Only when my conversation + Turned to men, he grew quite angry; + Dark his frowns were, and he broke once + Seven columns in his fury. + When I wished to praise the sunlight + And the skies, he stopped me, saying: + 'Speak not of the sky or sunlight! + In the sunlight there above us + Snakes are creeping, and they sting one; + Men are living and they hate one; + Up there in the starry heavens + We see questions which are waiting + For an answer; who can give it?' + So he stayed here in the cavern, + And the grief which overwhelmed him + Was dissolved in tender sadness. + Oft I saw him gently weeping; + Oft, when a melodious wailing + Through the columns' hollow shafts rang, + He sat there, his sweet songs singing. + But he gradually grew silent. + Did I ask him what he wanted, + Then he smiling took my hand: + 'Gnome, I many songs can sing thee, + But the best I have not sung yet. + Will you know its name? 'Tis silence. + Silence--silence! oh how well one + Learns it here in thy deep cavern; + Depth creates true modesty. + But the cold is o'er me creeping; + Gnome! 'tis true, my poor heart freezes. + Gnome! dost thou know what true love is? + If for diamonds thou art digging, + And dost find them, take them with thee, + Guard them safely in thy cavern. + Gnome, thy heart will never freeze then!' + + + "These the last words he has spoken. + Now for years he has been silent + In this spot. He has not died yet + Nor is living, but his body + Slowly into stone is changing; + And I nurse him; heartfelt pity + For my silent guest I cherish, + Often try to cheer his spirit + With the columns' solemn music, + And I know it pleases him. + Without taking any freedom, + I think you too are a minstrel; + And the service you can do me + Is to play before my guest here." + + + Then young Werner took his trumpet + And began to play; his mournful + Strains were ringing through the cavern + As if breathing forth deep pity. + Then in thinking of his own love, + Through the sadness now there mingled + Strains of joy--first faint and distant, + Then came nearer--fresher, fuller, + And the last notes sounded like a + Glorious hymn on Easter morning. + And the silent man then listened, + Nodded gently with his head. + Fare-thee-well, dream on in peace, thou + Silent man, in thy still cavern, + Till the fulness comes of knowledge + And of love, to wake the sleeper. + + + Through the winding cave young Werner + With the gnome was now returning. + As the spacious dome they entered + A great rock the gnome uplifted. + Underneath a shrine was hidden, + And within were sparkling jewels, + Also writings and old parchments. + One pale amethyst, and papers + Which by age had turned quite yellow, + Gave the gnome now to young Werner, + Saying: "Take these as mementoes! + If the world above doth vex thee, + Here thou e'er wilt find a refuge. + But when wicked men are saying + That gnomes' feet are webbed like geese-feet, + Then, by lime-spar and rock-crystal! + Say that they are dreadful liars. + True, our soles are somewhat flattened; + But 'tis only a rude peasant + Who so cruelly maligns us. + Now good-bye, there is the outlet; + Take the pine-torch, light thyself now, + I have other things to do."-- + Spoke and crept into a crevice. + + + Musing through the narrow passage + Went young Werner, and his head struck + Oft against the rocky ceiling + Ere he reached again the daylight. + Peacefully the evening-bell rang + Through the vale as he went homeward. + + + + + ELEVENTH PART. + + THE HAUENSTEIN RIOT. + + + Through the Schwarzwald spreads a buzzing. + Buzzing as of bees when swarming, + As of the approaching storm-wind. + In the tavern savage fellows + Meet: their heavy fists are striking + On the table: "Bring me wine here! + Better times are now approaching + For this land of Hauenstein." + From the corn-loft brings the peasant + His old-fashioned rusty musket, + Which below the floor was hidden; + Fetches also the long halberd. + On the walnut-tree the raven + Harshly croaks: "Long have I fasted; + Soon I'll have meat for my dinner, + I shall relish thee, poor peasant!" + + + Now the people from the mountains. + Throng at Herrischried the market; + There the seat is of their union, + There they hold their union-meeting. + But to-day the Hauenstein peasants + Came not in black velvet doublets, + With red stomachers and white frills, + As was usually their custom. + Some had buckled on cuirasses, + Others wore their leather doublets; + In the breeze the flag was waving, + And the morning sun was shining + On their spears and thick spiked clubs. + Near the old church in the market + Stood the village elders, with the + Union-leader and mace-bearer. + "Silence, men!" the beadle shouted. + Silence reigned, and on the church-steps + Mounted then the peasants' speaker, + Holding an official paper, + Stroked his long gray beard, and said: + + + "Inasmuch as the hard war-time + Has much injured town and country, + And the debt is much augmented; + So to meet increased expenses + Our most gracious rulers hereby + Do exact new contributions; + Seven florins from each household, + And from all the bachelors two. + And next week the tax-collector + Comes to gather these new taxes. + So 'tis written in this paper." + --"Death upon the tax-collector! + May God damn him!" cried the people.-- + "Now as we ourselves have suffered + Quite enough by this sad war, and + Many lost their goods and chattels; + And because 'tis pledged in writing + As one of our privileges, + That there shall be no new taxes + E'er imposed upon this country, + Many this demand consider + As a most unjust extortion, + Think we should stand up most firmly + For our ancient rights by charter, + And should never pay a farthing." + --"Not a farthing!" cried the people.-- + "So we summoned you together + For your final resolution." + + + Like the distant surf their voices + Loudly roared in wild confusion: + "Come! stand up! speak out! We must now + Hear the Bergalingen Fridli. + He knows best--and all we others + Always are of his opinion." + Then stepped out the man thus called for, + And upon a big log mounting, + Spoke thus with a shrewd expression: + + + "Do you see at last, dull peasants, + What the end will be? Your fathers + Once gave up their little finger; + Now they want to seize the whole hand. + Only give it, and you'll soon see, + How they'll flay your very skin off! + Who can really thus compel us? + In his woods free lives the peasant, + Nothing but the sun above him. + So it stands in our old records, + In the statutes of our union: + Nothing there of rent and socage, + Nothing of a bondman's service! + But there's danger we shall have them. + Do you know what will protect us? + Yonder there the Swiss can tell you, + And the valiant Appenzellers. + This here!"--and he brandished fiercely + O'er his head his thick spiked club.-- + "On the fir-tree I heard piping + Lately a white bird at midnight: + Good old time, that bygone time, + Peasants, freemen in their forests; + If with spears and guns you seek it, + You will see it soon returning. + Now, Amen! my speech is ended." + + + Then wild cries rose from the people-- + "He is right" were many saying; + "To the devil with our rulers! + Burn these damned taxation-papers! + All these scribblers may look out soon + If this flame can be extinguished + With the fluid in their inkstands." + Said another: "Thou, oh governor, + Didst consign me to a dungeon; + Poor my fare, with only water! + Thou hast wine within thy cellar, + And I hope we now shall try it. + Yes, with thee I'll square accounts soon!" + Said a third one: "Thee my musket, + Which has brought down many woodcocks, + I shall use for nobler sport soon. + Then hit well! For we'll be shooting + At the great black double eagle." + Thus a murmur through the crowd went. + Just as when the plague is raging, + Everywhere infection spreadeth, + So were all the peasants' hearts now + Filled with passion and blind wrath. + And in vain spoke the experienced + Villaringen elder, Balthes: + + + "If a horse's tail is bridled, + Not his mouth, no one can drive him. + If the peasant seeks for justice + By revolt, all will go badly; + In the end he gets a thrashing. + Hence of old we were commanded + To obey the ruling powers, + And--" but now in voluntary + Was he stopped in his sage counsels: + "Turn him out, this old fool Balthes! + May God damn him! He is faithless; + He's a traitor to his country!" + Thus they howled out, stones were flying, + Spears were threatening, and his friends could + Hardly get him off in safety. + + + "To be short, what use of speaking?" + Fridli said, of Bergalingen. + "Who are faithful to our old rights + And will go for them to battle, + Raise their hands high!" And they raised them + All, while loud hurrahs they shouted. + Arms are clanking, flags are waving, + Battle-cries--the drums are beating. + And that day large bands were marching + From the hills toward the river + To attack the forest-cities. + + + In the forest from the fir-tree + Looked the wood-sprite Meysenhartus, + Mocking at the peasants' army, + Said: "A lucky journey to you! + No need I should now mislead you, + As you choose yourselves the wrong track!" + + + Scouts are riding, watchmen blowing, + Women wailing, children crying; + Through the vale rings the alarm-bell. + Burghers through the streets are running: + "Close the gates! Defend the town-walls! + Bring the guns up to the tower!" + From the terrace saw the Baron + This commotion in the forest, + How the mountain-paths were darkened + By the peasant-bands descending. + "Am I dreaming," said he, "or have + All these men indeed forgotten, + How a hundred and fifty years since + Such mad peasants' jokes were punished? + Yes, indeed, the forest glitters + With their helmets and their halberds. + Well devised, you cunning peasants! + While below there on the Danube + The proud eagle of the emperor + Lets the Turks feel his sharp talons, + You think that it will be easy, + On the Rhine to pluck his feathers! + Look out well that this your reckoning + Won't deceive you; and I swear here, + The old Baron will not fail to + Greet you with a warm reception." + + + Turned and went into the castle, + And he donned his leathern doublet, + Buckled on the heavy broadsword, + And gave orders to the household: + "Quickly get your weapons ready, + Keep good watch upon the towers, + Raise the drawbridge, and let no one, + While I am away, here enter! + Master Werner, you may order + All the rest. Protect my castle, + And my daughter, my chief treasure! + Have no fear, dear Margaretta; + Brave must be a soldier's child. + Only some few coal-black ravens + Come there flying from the forest, + Want to get their skulls well battered + 'Gainst the walls of this good city. + God preserve you! I myself go + To my post, up to the town-hall." + + + Margaretta threw herself now + In the Baron's arms, who kindly + Pressed upon her brow fond kisses. + Shaking Werner's hand then warmly + He walked off unto the square. + + + There the ladies of the convent + Wailing went up to the minster: + "Show us mercy, Fridolinus!" + By his door the "Button" landlord + Asked the Baron: "Is it time now, + That we put our gold and silver + In the cellar's deepest places?" + Said the Baron: "Shame upon you! + It is time to take your weapons + And to help defend the city. + Show the same zeal as when fishing!" + + + In the town-hall were assembled + Councillors and burgomaster. + Many of the city-fathers + Made wry faces, as though fearing + The last judgment-day was coming. + On their hearts their sins were pressing + Like a hundredweight; they cried out: + "Save us, God, from this great evil, + And we'll promise all our lifetime + Ne'er to take unlawful interest, + Never to defraud the orphan, + Ne'er to mix sand with our spices." + Even one proposed this motion: + "Let us send out to these peasants + Meat and wine in great abundance, + Also of doubloons some dozens, + That from hence they may depart; + They in Waldshut may look out then, + How they drive away these fellows." + + + Now the Baron came among them: + "My good sirs! I do believe you + Hang your heads. To work now bravely! + When the Swedes the town beleagured, + Then 'twas grave, but this is only + Child's play. Surely you have always + Liked to hear and make good music; + So the booming guns will please you. + Let the orchestra strike up now! + And these fellows, when they hear you, + Homeward soon will all go dancing, + E'er the emperor's own detachment + Plays for them the grand finale." + + + Thus he spoke. In times of terror + Oft a brave word at the right time + Can work wonders; many cowards + From example drink in courage; + And one single iron will leads + Oft along the wavering masses. + Thus the council looked up strengthened + To the Baron's gray moustaches. + "Yes, this is just our opinion, + We'll defend our city bravely, + And the Baron shall command us; + For he knows well how to do it. + Death to all these cursed peasants!" + Through the streets th' alarm is sounded + To the town-gate, where a narrow + Dam leads on to terra firma, + Ran well armed the younger people. + On the bastion stood commanding + Fludribus, the fresco-painter, + Who had there assembled round him + Some young lads who with great effort + An old gun were hauling up there. + Smiling looked at them the Baron, + But great Fludribus said gravely: + "Devotees of art can boast of + Stores of universal knowledge. + Let them have a chance, and they will + Rule the state as well as armies. + My keen eye sees well there's danger + In this spot; and as Cellini + From the Castle of St Angelo + Shot the constable of France once. + So--alas at foes inferior-- + Cannonades here Fludribus." + + + "Only do not kill them all off!" + Said the Baron; "and be sure first + To get balls enough and powder; + For, the gun you there are dragging + Will not be of use without them!" + + + To the Rhine-bank came the peasants + In great crowds, and looked up growling + At the high walls of the city + And the well-closed city-gate. + "In his den the fox is hiding, + He has barred his hole most firmly, + But the peasants will unearth him," + Fridli said, of Bergalingen. + "Forward! I will be your leader!" + Drums were beating the assault now, + Heavy muskets cracking loudly; + Through the powder-smoke ran shouting + All these hordes against the town-gate. + On the walls to best advantage + Had the Baron placed his forces; + And was tranquilly then looking + At the crowd of wild assaulters. + "'Tis to be regretted," thought he, + "That such strength is idly wasted. + Out of these strong country lubbers + One might form a splendid regiment." + His command is heard: "Now fire!" + The assaulters then were welcomed + With a well-aimed thundering volley, + And they fled in all directions; + Like a swarm of crows dispersing, + When the hail-shot flies among them. + + + And not few of them had fallen. + 'Neath an apple-tree was lying + By the shore one who spoke feebly + To a comrade passing by him: + "Greet from me my poor old mother, + Also my Verena Frommherz. + Say, she can with a good conscience + Marry the tall Uickerhans now. + For, poor Seppli here is staining + The white sand with his true heart's blood!" + + + Whilst this happened by the town-gate, + Some were trying if the city + Could be entered by a back-way. + On the Rhine below were lying + Fishing-boats beside a cabin, + Where in traps they caught the salmon. + There another crowd streamed onward. + An audacious lad from Karsau + Led them; for, he knew each byway + Near the river, and had often + Many fish at night-time stolen + From the nets of other people. + In three fishing-boats, well manned, thence + Were they rowing up the river. + Willow-trees and heavy brushwood, + And a bend there in the river + Saved them from discovery. + Where the garden of the castle + On arched walls is far projecting + O'er the Rhine, they stopped their barges, + And quite easy was the landing. + + + On the roof of the pavilion + Which once Fludribus had painted + Sat the black cat Hiddigeigei. + With surprise the worthy cat saw + Spear-heads far below him glistening; + Saw a man, too, upward climbing + On the stone wall, tightly holding + With his teeth a shining sabre; + And how others followed after. + Growling said then Hiddigeigei: + "Best for a wise cat it would be + Ever to remain quite neutral + To man's foolish acts of daring; + But I hate these boorish peasants, + Hate the smell of cows and stables. + If they triumph, woe to Europe; + For, it would destroy completely + The fine atmosphere of culture. + Now look out below, you fellows! + Since the geese by cries of warning + Saved the Capitol of Rome once, + Animals are taking interest + In the history of the world." + + + Up he sprang in furious anger, + Curved his back, his hair all bristling, + And commenced a caterwauling + Fit to take away one's hearing. + + + On the jutting turret standing. + Faithful Anton heard this wauling, + And involuntarily looking + Toward that way: "Good heaven!" said he, + "In the garden is the enemy." + Quick his signal-shot brought other + Men-at-arms, along with Werner, + Who placed quickly his few fighters: + "Stand thou here--thou there--don't hurry + With your fire!" His heart beat wildly: + "Ha, my sword, maintain thy valour!" + Shallow was the castle's moat then, + Well-nigh dry, and 'mid the rushes + Glisten many swords and spear-heads. + Daring men are climbing upward + O'er the tower's crumbling stone-work. + Muskets cracking, arrows flying. + Axe-strokes 'gainst the gate are ringing, + Everywhere attack, and shouting: + "Castle thou wilt soon be taken!" + And between, the fall of bodies + In the moat is heard--much blood flows. + By the gate cries out young Werner: + "Well done, Anton! Now take aim at + That dark fellow on thy left hand; + I'll attend unto the other. + Steady now! They are retreating!" + + + Thus the first attack proved fruitless, + And with bloody heads drew back now + The assaulters, seeking shelter, + 'Midst the chestnut-trees' dense thicket. + Scornful words now reach the castle: + "Coward knights, faint-hearted servants, + Keep behind the walls, protected. + Just come out to honest combat + If you've courage." "Death and Devil!" + Werner shouted. "Let the bridge down! + Spears at rest! Now onward!--Mock us? + In the Rhine with these damned scoundrels!" + + + Down the bridge fell rattling loudly; + Far ahead went Werner rushing, + Right into the crowd; ran over + Just the fellow who did guide them. + "When the sword gets dull, thou rascal, + With my fist alone I'll kill thee." + In the crowd he sees a sturdy + Soldier, with a weather-beaten + Face, bold and defiant-looking. + He had served with Wallenstein once, + And now fought for these mean peasants + From mere love of strife and bloodshed. + "Taste my steel now, gray old warrior," + Cried young Werner, as his sword swung + Whizzing through the air to strike him. + But the soldier's halberd parried + Werner's stroke: "Not badly done, lad! + Here my answer!" Blood was dripping + From young Werner's locks; his forehead + Showed a deep wound from the halberd. + But the one who swung it, never + Gave a second stroke; his own throat, + Where by armour not protected, + Being cut by Werner's weapon. + Three steps backward then he staggered + Sinking: "Devil, stir thy fire! + Hast me now!" Dead lay the soldier. + + + Werner, thy young life guard well now! + Raging were the peasants, thronging + In great crowds around this handful. + 'Gainst a chestnut-tree now leaning + Weak, but still his life defending, + Stood young Werner; round him rallied, + Brave and faithful, all the servants. + Save him, God! The wound is bleeding, + From his hand the sword falls slowly, + Dimmed his eyes are, and the enemy + At his gory breast is aiming. + Then--all may go well yet-- + From the castle rings distinctly, + As if for a charge, the trumpet; + Then a shot--one falls; a volley + Follows. "Onward!" so the Baron + Now commands, and wildly flying + Tear the peasants to the Rhine. + Cheer up, Werner, friends are coming, + And with them comes Margaretta! + When the fight below was raging, + To the terrace she ascended, + And she blew--herself not knowing + Why she did it--in the anguish + Of her soul, the battle signal + Used in the Imperial army. + Which she'd learned in happy moments + In the honeysuckle-arbour. + It was heard by those returning + With the Baron from the town-gate; + And the maiden's war-cry made them + Hurry quickly to the rescue + Of those fighting in the garden. + Woman's heart, so gentle, timid, + What gave thee such courage then? + + + "God, he lives!" she bent now softly + Over him who 'neath the chestnuts + There on the green sward was lying, + Stroked the fair locks, lank and bloody, + From his brow: "Hast fought right bravely!" + Half unconscious gazed young Werner; + Did he then behold a vision? + Closed his eyes, and on two muskets + To the castle he was borne. + + + + + TWELFTH PART. + + YOUNG WERNER AND MARGARETTA. + + + In the castle's chapel dimly + Was a flickering lamp-light burning, + Shining on the altar-picture, + Whence the Queen of Heaven looked down + With a gracious pitying smile, + 'Neath the picture hung fresh gathered + Roses and geranium-garlands. + Kneeling there prayed Margaretta: + "Sorely tried one, full of mercy! + Thou who givest us protection, + Care for him who badly wounded + Lies now on a bed of anguish; + And bestow on me forgiveness + If thou thinkst it very sinful + That he fills my thoughts alone." + + + Hope and trust their light were shedding + In her heart as thus she prayed. + And more cheerful Margaretta + Now ascended up the staircase. + On the threshold of the sick-room + Was the gray old doctor standing, + And he beckoned her to come there. + Judging what most likely would be + The first question she would ask him, + He then said with voice half muffled: + "Fear no more, my gracious lady; + Fresh young blood and youthful vigour + From such wounds not long can suffer, + And already gentle slumber, + Messenger of health, doth soothe him. + He to-day can take an airing." + Spoke and left; for, his attention + Many wounded men were craving, + And he hated useless gossip. + + + Softly entered Margaretta + Now the sick-room of young Werner, + Bashful and yet curious whether + All was true the doctor told her. + Gently slumbering lay young Werner, + Pale in youthful beauty, looking + Like a statue. As if dreaming, + He lay holding, o'er his forehead + And his healing wound, his right hand, + As one who from glaring sunlight + Wishes to protect his eyes; + Round his lips a smile was playing. + + + Long on him gazed Margaretta-- + Long and longer. Thus in old times + In the forest of Mount Ida + Gazed the goddess, fair Diana, + On Endymion the sleeper. + Pity held her eye a captive; + Ah, and pity is a fruitful + Soil for love's sweet plant to grow in. + From a tiny seed 'tis spreading + In this ground so rich and fertile, + Which it permeates completely + With its thousand fibrous rootlets. + + + Thrice already Margaretta + To the door her way had wended, + But as many times returning + She at last approached the bedside. + On the table stood a cooling + Potion, medicines in bottles; + But she neither touched the cooling + Potion nor the other bottles. + Timidly she bent there o'er him, + Timidly and hardly breathing, + Lest her breath might wake the sleeper. + Long she gazed at his closed eyelids + And involuntarily stooping, + With her lips--But who interprets + All the strange mysterious actions + Of a first sweet loving passion? + Well-nigh can my song conjecture + That she really wished to kiss him; + But she did not; startled sighing, + Turned abruptly--like a timid + Fawn she hurried from the chamber. + + + Like a man who, long accustomed + To the gloom and damp of dungeons, + Seems bewildered when beholding, + For the first time free fair Nature: + "Hast thou not, O sun, grown brighter? + Has the sky not deeper colours?" + And his eyes are nearly dazzled + By the light so long denied him: + Thus returns the convalescent + Once again to life and vigour. + Fresher, warmer, rosier visions + Rise before his raptured glances, + Which he greets with fond rejoicing. + "World, how fair thou art!" was also + Dropping from the lips of Werner, + As on the broad steps he slowly + Now descended to the garden. + Leaning on his staff, he stood long + Quiet, basking in the sunbeams + Playing o'er the fragrant flowers, + Drew a long breath, and then slowly + Stepped upon the garden-terrace. + On the stone-seat in the sunshine + He sat down now. Bees were humming, + Butterflies were lightly flying + 'Mid the verdant chestnut-branches, + Out and in, like tavern-goers. + Green, pellucid, gently rushing, + Bore the Rhine its waters onward; + And a pine-raft filled with people, + Snake-like, swiftly sped toward Basel. + Near the shore, up to his knees stood + In the river there a fisher, + Singing gently to himself thus: + + + "Peasant comes with spears and muskets, + Peasant storms the forest-city, + Peasant will now fight with Austria: + Peasant! you will find that will + Make much heavier the bill; + Take your purse and pay the joke! + Seven florins seemed too much then, + One-and-twenty must thou pay now. + Soldiers quartered are dear guests too; + Then the plaisters from the surgeons: + Peasant! you will find that will + Make much heavier the bill; + Take your purse and pay the joke!" + + + Gaily gazed young Werner o'er the + Lovely landscape and the river; + But he stopped his contemplations. + On the wall with sunlight flooded + He beheld a shadow gliding, + As of curls and flowing garments-- + Well did Werner know this shadow. + Through the shrubbery came smiling + Margaretta; she was watching + Hiddigeigei's graceful gambols, + Who then in the garden-arbour + With a wee white mouse was playing. + With his velvet paws he held it + Tight, and like a gracious sovereign + Looked down on his trembling captive. + + + From his seat rose up young Werner + Bowing lowly and with reverence. + Over Margaretta's cheeks spread + Ever-changing rosy blushes. + "Master Werner, may God bless you, + And how are you? You were silent + Such a long time, so with pleasure + Shall I hear your voice once more." + + + "Since my forehead made acquaintance + Lately with the enemy's halberd, + Hardly knew I," answered Werner, + "Where my life and thoughts had flown to. + O'er me lay thick clouds of darkness; + But to-day in dreams an angel + To my side descended, saying: + Thou art well, arise, be happy + That thou hast thy health recovered + And it was so. With a firm step + Thus far have I come already." + Now again fair Margaretta's + Cheeks were like the blush of morning. + When the dream young Werner mentioned, + Bashfully she turned her head; then + Playfully she interrupted: + "I suppose you are now looking + At the battle-field; indeed it + Proved a hot day, and I fancy + Still I hear the roar of battle: + Do you still recall, you stood there + By yon tree, and there a dead man + Lay beneath those blooming elders? + Where the gossamer so lightly + Through the air in threads is flying, + Spears and halberds then were glittering. + There, where still you see the traces + Of fresh plaster on the stone-wall, + Broke those peasants through when flying. + And, my good sir, over yonder + Then my father loudly scolded, + That a certain person headlong + Had into such danger plunged." + + + "Death and--but forgive, my lady. + That well-nigh I swore," said Werner. + "They were mocking us; and others, + If they please, may keep their temper. + When I hear such stinging speeches, + Then my heart burns, my fist clenches: + Fight! no other means I know of; + Fight I must, e'en should the whole world + Go to atoms with a crash. + Through my veins there flows no fish-blood; + And to-day, though somewhat feeble, + In the same case, I should stand there + By the chestnut-tree again." + + + "Wicked man," said Margaretta, + "That a fresh stroke from a halberd + Should be crossing your old scar, and + That--but do you know who suffered + Keenly for your daring conduct? + Do you know whose tears were flowing? + Would you once more give the order: + Lower drawbridge! if I begged you: + Werner stay and do remember + The poor suffering Margaretta? + If I--," but she was not able + Further to spin out her sentence. + What the mouth spoke not, the eyes said; + What the eyes said not, the heart did. + Dreamily young Werner lifted + Unto her his raptured gaze: + "Am I dying, or is doubly + My young life to me now given?" + In each other's arms they flew then, + Sought each other's lips with ardour, + And transported, pressed upon them + Love's first kiss, so sweet and blissful. + Golden-purple streamed the sunlight + Through the shady trees' high summits, + Down upon two happy beings-- + On young Werner's pallid features, + On the lovely blushing maiden. + + + Love's first kiss so sweet and blissful! + Thinking of thee, joy and sorrow + Both steal o'er me; joy, that also + I have once thy nectar tasted, + Sorrow, that but once we taste it! + For thy sake I wished to cull from + Language, all the fairest flowers, + For a wreath unto thine honour; + But, instead of words rose visions + Clear before me, and they led me + Far to float o'er time and space. + First I soared to Eden's garden, + When the new-born world was lying + In its pristine youthful freshness, + When its age by days was reckoned. + Evening came, a rosy light spread + O'er the sky, while in the river's + Waves the sun to rest sank slowly; + On the shore, in merry frolic, + Graceful animals were playing. + Through the shady paths 'neath palm-trees + The first human couple walked. + Wide through space they gazed in silence, + 'Mid the holy peace of evening; + In each other's eyes they looked then, + And their lips did meet. + Then I saw before me rising. + Visions of quite different aspect; + Dark the sky, rain-storm and lightning, + Mountains bursting, from the dark depths + Foaming waters rushing upward. + Flooded over is the ancient + Mother Earth, and she is dying. + To the cliffs the waves are rolling, + To the old man and his consort, + To the two last living mortals. + Now a flash--I saw them smiling, + Then embracing, without speaking, + Ever kissing. Night then--roaring, + Did the flood engulf these beings. + This I saw, and well I know now, + That a kiss outweighs all language, + Is, though mute, love's song of songs. + And when words fail, then the singer + Should be silent; therefore silent + He returns now to the garden. + On the stone steps of the terrace + Lay the worthy Hiddigeigei; + And with great amazement saw he, + How his mistress and young Werner + Were each other fondly kissing. + Grumbling said he to himself then: + "Often have I meditated + On great problems hard to settle, + Which my cat-heart fully fathomed; + But there's one which yet remaineth + Quite unsolved, uncomprehended: + Why do people kiss each other? + Not from hatred, not from hunger, + Else they'd bite and eat each other; + Neither can it be an aimless + Nonsense, for they are in general + Wise, and know well what they're doing. + Why then is it, I ask vainly, + Why do people kiss each other? + Why do mostly so the youthful? + And why mostly so in Spring-time? + Over all these knotty questions, + I intend to ponder further, + On the gable-roof to-morrow." + + + Margaretta plucked some roses, + Took then Werner's hat, and gaily + With the fairest ones adorned it. + "Poor pale man, till there are blooming + On your own cheeks just such roses, + On your hat you'll have to wear them. + But now tell me, wherefore is it + That I do so dearly love you? + Not a word you ere have spoken, + That could show me that you loved me. + Sometimes only shy and bashful + Did you raise at me your glances, + And sometimes you played before me. + Is it, then, your country's custom, + That a woman's love is won there, + Without words by trumpet-blowing?" + + + "Margaretta, sweetest darling," + Said young Werner, "could I venture? + You appeared to me so saint-like, + In your flowing, snow-white garments. + At the feast of Fridolinus. + 'Twas your glance which made me enter + In your noble father's service; + And your favour was the sunshine + Which my daily life illumined. + Ah! there by the mountain-lake once, + On my head was placed a garland. + 'Twas love's crown of thorns you gave me, + And in silence I have worn it. + Could I speak, O could the homeless + Trumpeter his yearnings utter + Boldly to fair Margaretta? + Unto you as to an angel, + Who is guarding us poor mortals + Did I look in silent worship, + And I wished in your dear service + Here to die beneath the chestnuts. + From that fate you have preserved me, + Unto life and health restored me, + Made my life now doubly precious, + As I know your love adorns it. + Take me then! Since you did give me + That first burning kiss, I only + Live through you, belong to you now, + Margaretta--ever thine!" + + + "Thine, yes, thine," said Margaretta; + "What stiff barriers are erected + By our words! Belong to you now-- + What a solemn cold expression. + Ever thine! 'tis thus love speaketh. + No more you; _thou_, heart to heart pressed, + Lips to lips, that is his language; + Therefore, Werner, let another + Kiss now seal it"--and their lips met. + In the sky the moon first shineth, + Then by countless stars is followed; + So the first kiss, when once given, + Is by hosts of others followed. + But how many were by stealth robbed + And paid duly back with interest, + All this doth my song keep secret. + Poetry and dry statistics + Are, alas, not on good terms. + Also Anton came now hurrying + Through the garden with a message: + "The three ladies from the convent, + Who the first of May went with us + To the fishing, send their greeting + To your gracious ladyship, and + Also make most kind inquiries + For the health of Master Werner, + Who, they trust, will soon amend." + + + + + THIRTEENTH PART. + + WERNER SUES FOR MARGARETTA. + + + Night, how long and full of terror! + When thou bring'st not to the weary + With thy shades refreshing slumber, + And sweet dreams to comfort him. + Restlessly his thoughts are delving + In the past's great heaps of rubbish, + Where they rake up many fragments + Of his former life, and nowhere + Can his eyes abide with pleasure; + Only gloomy spectres rise up, + Which the sunlight soon would banish. + Unrefreshed, next to the future + Roves the mind from which sweet sleep flies; + Forges plans, takes resolutions, + Builds up proud and airy castles; + But like owls and bats are flying + All around them hosts of doubts which + Drive away all hope and courage. + + + From the tower-clock struck midnight. + On his couch was lying sleepless + Werner in the turret-chamber; + Through the window beaming faintly + Fell a narrow ray of moonlight, + While beneath the Rhine did rush. + And the sleepless brain of Werner + Is by dream-like visions haunted. + Once it seemed to him like Sunday; + Bells are pealing, horses neighing, + Toward the Schwarzwald goes a wedding, + He walks at the head as bridegroom, + By his side is Margaretta; + And she wears a wreath of myrtle. + In the village loud rejoicings, + And the roads and village street are + All with flowers overstrewn. + In his priestly robes is standing + By the church-door the old Pastor + Blessing, beckoning him to enter-- + But the vision's thread broke off here + For a new one: He imagined + At the door there was a knocking; + And now enters the odd figure + Of his dear old friend Perkeo, + With his red nose shining brightly + In the dimly-lighted chamber; + And he speaks with husky voice thus: + "Oh, my lad, with love don't meddle! + Love's a fire which consumeth + Him who kindles it, completely; + And thou art no charcoal-burner! + Come then home to the clear Neckar, + Come with me to my old wine-tun, + Which contains good stuff sufficient + All thy love-flames to put out." + + + Next he seems to be transported + To an Eastern field of battle. + Cries of Allah, sabres whirring; + And he soon strikes down a Pashaw + From his horse, and brings the crescent + To the general, Prince Eugene, + Who then claps him on the shoulder: + "Well done, my Imperial captain!" + From the battle-field his dreaming + Flies back to the days of childhood, + And his nurse sings in the garden: + "Squirrel climbs up on the blackthorn, + Squirrel goes up to the tree-top, + Squirrel falls into his grave. + Had he not so high ascended, + Then his fall had been less heavy, + Had not broken then his leg." + + + Thus disturbed by all this dreaming, + Werner sprang up of a sudden, + With long strides walked through his chamber; + And his mind was troubled always + By the same portentous question: + "Shall I ask the Baron for her?" + Love well-nigh appeared to him now + Just like stolen fruit; he felt that, + Like a thief, before the day broke, + He had better leave the castle. + But just then the sun was rising, + With the beauty of a bridegroom + In the blush of early morning. + "Be ashamed, my heart, great coward! + Yes, I'll ask him," cried young Werner. + + + At his breakfast sat the Baron + Poring deeply o'er a letter + Which the day before was brought him + By a messenger from Suabia, + From the Danube; where through narrow + Valleys the young stream is flowing, + And steep limestone rocks are rising + From the water which reflects them + With their verdant crowns of beech-trees; + Thence the man had come on horseback. + And the letter read as follows: + + + "Does my comrade still remember + His old Hans von Wildenstein? + Down the Rhine and Danube many + Drops of water have been flowing, + Since we in that war together + Lay before the bivouac-fire; + And I see it by my son's growth, + Who is now a strapping fellow-- + Four-and-twenty years he reckons. + First a page unto his highness + The Grand Duke of Wuertemberg; + Then to Tuebingen I sent him. + If I by his debts can judge well, + Which I had to pay for him there, + He must have vast stores of knowledge. + Now he stays with me at home, at + Wildenstein; is hunting stags here, + Hunting foxes, hares and rabbits; + But sometimes the rascal even + Hunts the peasants' pretty daughters. + So 'tis time to think of taming + Him beneath the yoke of marriage. + If I err not, you, my friend, have + Just a daughter suited for him. + With old comrades 'tis the custom + Not to beat around the bush, but + Go straight forward to the business. + So I ask you, shall my Damian + Start upon a tour of courtship + To your castle on the Rhine? + Answer soon. Receive the greetings + Of thy Hans von Wildenstein! + "Postscript: Do you still remember + That great brawl we had at Augsburg, + And the rage of wealthy Fugger, + The ill-humour of his ladies, + Two-and-thirty years ago?" + + + With great effort tried the Baron + His friend's writing to decipher. + Spent a good half-hour upon it + Ere he came to its conclusion. + Smiling said he then: "A Suabian + Is a devil of a fellow. + One and all they are unpolished. + And coarse-grained is their whole nature; + But within their square-built noddles + Lie rich stores of clever cunning. + Many stupid brainless fellows + Might from them obtain supplies. + Truly my old Hans now even + In old age is calculating + Like the best diplomatist. + For, his much encumbered, rotten + Owl's-nest out there on the Danube, + Would be well propped up and rescued + By a good rich marriage-portion. + Still his plan is worth considering; + For, the name of Wildenstein is + Well known all throughout the Empire, + Since they followed as crusaders + In the train of Barbarossa. + Let the younker try his chance then!" + + + Werner with most solemn aspect, + Dressed in black, the room now entered; + Sadness lay on his pale features. + In good humour spoke the Baron: + "I was wishing just to see you, + For I want you to be ready + With your pen, and as my faithful + Secretary write a letter, + And a letter of importance. + There's a knight who lives in Suabia + Questioning me about my daughter; + Asks her hand from me in marriage + For his son, the younker Damian. + Write him then, how Margaretta + Daily grows in grace and beauty; + How she--but I need not tell you. + Think you are an artist--sketch then + With your pen a life-like, faithful + Portrait, not a jot forgetting. + Also write, to his proposal + I do offer no objection, + And the younker, if he pleases, + May come here and try his fortune." + + + "May come here and try his fortune," + Said young Werner, as if dreaming, + Mumbling to himself--when grimly + Said the Baron: "What's the matter? + You have now as long a visage + As a protestant old preacher + On Good Friday. Is the fever + Coming once again to plague you?" + Gravely answered him young Werner: + "I, my lord, can't write that letter, + You must find another penman; + For, I come myself as suitor, + Come to ask you for your daughter." + + + "Come--to ask you--for your daughter!" + In his turn now said the Baron + To himself--he made a wry mouth + As one playing on the Jew's-harp, + And he felt a sudden twitching + In his foot from his old enemy + Podagra, and gravely said: + "My young friend, your brain is truly + Still affected with the fever. + Hurry quickly to the garden; + There stands in the shade a fountain, + There is flowing clear cool water; + If you dip your head thrice in it + Then your fever soon will cool." + + + "Noble lord," now answered Werner, + "Spare your jokes, for you may better + Use them, when the noble younker + Comes here from the land of Suabia. + Calm and free from any fever + Have I on this step decided, + And to Margaretta's father + I repeat the same petition." + + + Darkly frowning said the Baron: + "Do you want to hear from me then + What your own good sense should tell you? + Most unwillingly I hurt you + With harsh words; I've not forgotten + That the wound upon your forehead, + Hardly healed yet, you received here + By your ardour in my service. + He who ventures as a suitor + For my daughter first must show me + That he comes of noble lineage. + Nature has set up strict barriers + Round us all with prescient wisdom, + To us all our sphere assigning, + Wherein we the best may prosper. + In the Holy Roman Empire + Is each rank defined most clearly-- + Nobles, commoners, and peasants. + If they keep within their circle, + From themselves their race renewing, + They'll remain then strong and healthy. + Each is then just like a column, + Which supports the whole; but never + Should these classes mix together. + Do you know the consequences? + Our descendants would have something + Of each class, and yet be nothing-- + Shallow, good-for-nothing mongrels, + Tossed about, because uprooted + From the soil of old tradition. + Firm, exclusive must a man be; + And his course of life already + Must be inborn, an inheritance + Coming down through generations. + Hence our custom does require + Equal rank when people marry; + And I hold as law this custom; + I shall not allow a stranger + To o'erleap this solid barrier, + And no trumpeter shall therefore + Ever woo a noble lady." + + + Thus the Baron. With great labour + Had he put the words together + Of this solemn and unusual + Theoretical discourse. + Meanwhile Hiddigeigei lying + There, behind the stove, was listening. + At the end assent he nodded, + But in thoughtful meditation + Raised his paw up to his forehead, + Reasoning to himself as follows: + "Why do people kiss each other? + Never shall I solve this question! + I did think at last I'd solved it, + Thought that kisses might be useful + As a means to stop one's talking, + And prevent one from declaiming + Bitter stinging words of truth. + But, alas, now this solution + Seems, I must confess, erroneous; + Else young Werner long before this + Would have kissed my good old master." + + + To the Baron said young Werner, + And his voice was growing hollow: + "Much I thank you for this lesson. + 'Midst the fir-trees of the mountains, + By the green waves of the river, + In the sunlight of the May-time, + Has my eye been overlooking + All these barriers of custom. + Thanks, that you have thus recalled them. + Also, thanks for all your kindness, + Shown to me while on the Rhine. + Now my time is up, the meaning + Of your words I thus interpret: + 'Right about face!' I go gladly. + As a suitor fully equal + I shall here return, or never. + Be not angry then--farewell!" + Spoke, and from the room departed, + And he knew what must be done now. + At the door with troubled glances + Still a long while gazed the Baron: + "I am really sad," he muttered, + "Wherefore is this brave youth's name not + Damian von Wildenstein?" + + + Parting, parting, dismal moment! + Who first ever did invent it? + Surely 'twas a wicked man, far + In the Polar Sea, and freezing + Round his nose the polar wind blew; + And his shaggy, jealous consort, + Plagued him, so he no more relished + The sweet comfort of the train-oil. + O'er his head he drew a yellow, + Furry sealskin, and then waving + With his fur-protected right hand, + To his Ylaleyka spoke he + First this harsh and mournful sentence: + "Fare-thee-well, from thee I'm parting!" + + + Parting, parting, dismal moment! + In his turret-chamber Werner, + Was now tying bag and baggage. + Fastening up his travelling knapsack: + Greets the walls of his snug chamber + For the last time, for they seemed then + Just like good old friends and comrades. + + + Only these he took farewell of; + Margaretta's eyes he could not + For the world then have encountered. + To the court-yard he descended, + Quickly his good horse he saddled. + Hoofs then clatter; a sad rider + Rode forth from the castle's precincts. + + + In the low ground by the river + Stood a walnut-tree; once more there + Now he halted with his horse, + And once more took up his trumpet; + From his overburdened soul then + His farewell rang to the castle-- + Rang out; don't you know the swan's song, + When with death's foreboding o'er him + Out into the lake he's swimming? + Through the rushes, through the snow-white + Water-lilies, rings his death-song: + "Lovely world, I now must leave thee; + Lovely world I die reluctant!" + + + Thus he blew there. Were those tears which + Glistened brightly on his trumpet, + Or some rain-drops which had fallen? + Onward now; the sharp spurs quickly + In the horse's flanks he presses, + And is flying at full gallop + Round the forest's farthest edge. + + + + + FOURTEENTH PART. + + THE BOOK OF SONGS. + + + Werner went to distant countries, + Margaretta's heart was blighted; + Some few years will now pass over + Ere the two are reunited. + + + But, meanwhile, abrupt transitions + Are not to my taste, I own; + So with songs, like wreaths of flowers, + Shall this gap be overstrewn. + + + + YOUNG WERNER'S SONGS. + + I. + + The moment when I saw thee first, + Struck dumb, I stood there dreaming, + My thoughts ran into harmonies, + Which through my heart were streaming. + + + So here I stand, poor trumpeter, + And on the sward am blowing; + In words I cannot tell my love, + In music it is flowing. + + + II. + + The moment when I saw thee first, + The sixth of March, like lightning, + Came quickly from the azure sky + A flash, my heart igniting. + + + It burn'd up all that dwelt therein, + A dire destruction bringing, + But from the ruins, ivy-like, + My loved one's name was springing. + + + III. + + Turn not thy timid glance away, + To hide what there doth glisten; + Come to the terrace, while I play, + And to my music listen. + + + In vain your efforts to escape, + I still continue blowing; + With magic speed my tunes take shape + Into a ladder growing. + + + On these sweet tones' melodious rounds + Love gently is ascending; + Through bolt and lock still pierce the sounds + Which I to thee am sending. + + + Turn not thy timid glance away, + To hide what there doth glisten; + Come to the terrace while I play, + And to my music listen. + + + IV. + + A merry piece I blew on the shore, + How clear my trumpet was pealing! + Above the storm the tones did soar + Up to the castle stealing. + + + The water-nymph on her crystal couch + Hears music through the wild roaring; + She rises up to listen well + To a human heart's outpouring. + + + And when she dives to her home below, + With laughter the fishes she's telling, + "O River-children, one doth see + Strange things where mortals are dwelling. + + + "There stands someone on shore, in the storm: + What do you think he's doing? + Blows evermore the same old tune-- + The tune of Love's soft wooing." + + + V. + + Thou Muse of Music, take my thanks, + Be praise to thee forever, + For teaching me thy Art divine, + That Art which faileth never. + + + Though language is a noble thing, + There are limits to what it expresses; + No speech has uttered yet what lives + In the soul's most hidden recesses. + + + It matters not that there are times, + When words to us are wanting; + For then, within, mysterious sounds + Our spell-bound hearts are haunting. + + + It murmurs, hums, it swells and rings, + Our hearts seem well-nigh breaking, + Till music's glorious hosts burst forth, + To forms of life awaking. + + + Oft I should stand before my love + A stupid bashful fellow, + Were not my trumpet there at hand, + And love-songs sweet and mellow. + + + Thou Muse of Music, take my thanks, + Be praise to thee forever, + For teaching me thy Art divine, + That Art which faileth never. + + + VI. + + The skylark and the raven + Are of a different tribe; + I feel as if in heaven! + That I am not a scribe. + + + The world is not so prosy, + The woods with mirth o'erflow, + To me life seems all rosy, + My trumpet rings hallo. + + + And merry tunes 'tis sending + Forth in a constant flow; + Who finds these sounds offending + May to the cloister go. + + + When ink it shall be raining, + Sand fall instead of snow, + Then, from my sin abstaining, + I nevermore will blow. + + + VII. + + Where 'neath the bridge the waters foam, + Dame Trout was swimming downward, + And met her cousin Salmon there: + "How are you, river-comrade?" + + + "I'm well," quoth he, "but thought just now: + If only lightning flashing, + Down there, would strike that stripling dead, + Him and his trumpet smashing! + + + The live-long day my fine young sir + On shore is promenading; + Rhine up, Rhine down, and never stops + His hateful serenading." + + + Dame Trout, then smiling, answered him; + "Dear cousin, you are spiteful, + I, on the contrary, do find + The Trumpeter delightful. + + + "If you, like him, could but enjoy + Fair Margaretta's favour, + To learn the trumpet even now, + You would not deem much labour." + + + VIII. + + I pray that no fair rose for me, + By thy dear hands, be broken; + A slip of holly evergreen, + Be of our love the token. + + + The chaplet green with glossy sheen + O'er the fruit good watch is keeping; + And all will prick who try to pick + What's for another's reaping. + + + The gaudy rose, when Autumn comes, + Finds that her beauty waneth; + The holly leaf her modest green + Through cold and snow retaineth. + + + IX. + + Her fragrant balm the sweet May night + O'er hill and vale is breathing, + When through the shrubs with footsteps light + To the castle I am stealing. + In the garden waves the linden-tree, + I climb to its green bower, + And from the leafy canopy + My song soars to the tower: + "Young Werner is the happiest youth + In the German Empire dwelling, + But who bewitched him thus, forsooth, + In words he won't be telling. + Hurrah! is all that he will say, + How lovely is the month of May, + Dear love, I send thee greeting!" + + + With joyous trills the nightingale + On the topmost bough is singing, + While far o'er mountain and o'er vale + The thrilling notes are ringing. + The birds are looking all about, + Awaking from their slumber; + From branch, and bush, and hedge burst out + Glad voices without number: + "Young Werner is the happiest youth + In the German Empire dwelling, + But who bewitched him thus, forsooth, + In words he won't be telling. + Hurrah! is all that he will say, + How lovely is the month of May, + Dear love, I send thee greeting!" + + + The sounds are heard, are borne along + By the river downward flowing; + And from afar echoes the song, + Fainter and fainter growing. + And through the air of rosy morn + I see two angels winging, + Like a harp's sweet tones, from Heaven borne, + I hear their voices singing: + "Young Werner is the happiest youth + In the German Empire dwelling, + But who bewitched him thus, forsooth, + In words he won't be telling. + Hurrah! is all that he will say, + How lovely is the month of May, + Dear love, I send thee greeting!" + + + X. + + Who's clattering from the tower + To me a greeting queer? + 'Tis, in his nest so cosy, + My friend the stork I hear. + + + He's preparing for a journey, + O'er sea and land will hie; + The Autumn is coming quickly, + So now he says good-bye. + + + Art right, that thou dost travel + Where warmer skies do smile; + From me greet fair Italia, + And also Father Nile. + + + There in the south are waiting + Far better meals for thee, + Than German frogs and paddocks, + Poor chafers and ennui! + + + Old fellow, God preserve thee, + My blessing take along; + For thou, at peaceful night-time, + Hast often heard my song. + + + And if perchance thou wert not + Asleep within thy nest, + Thou must have seen how often + With kisses I was blest. + + + But be not, pray, a tell-tale, + Be still, old comrade mine, + What business have the Moors there + With lovers on the Rhine? + + + XI. + + A settled life I did despise, + And so to wandering took; + When soon I found, to my surprise, + A comfortable nook. + + + But as I lay in rest's soft lap, + And hoped for long repose, + There broke o'er me a thunder-clap, + My stay came to a close. + + + Each year a different plant I see + Spring up, with beauty clad; + A fool's mad dance this world would be, + If 'twere not quite so sad. + + + XII. + + To life belongs a most unpleasant feature: + That not a rose without sharp thorns doth grow, + Much as love's yearning stirs our human nature, + Through pangs of parting we at last must go. + From thy dear eyes, when I my fate was trying, + A gleam of love and joy streamed forth to me: + Preserve thee God! my joy seemed then undying, + Preserve thee God! such joy was not to be. + + + I've suffered much from envy, hatred, sorrow, + A weather-beaten wanderer sad and worn; + I dreamt of peace and of a happy morrow, + When I to thee by angel-guides was borne. + To thy dear arms for comfort I was flying, + In grateful thanks I vowed my life to thee: + Preserve thee God! my joy seemed then undying, + Preserve thee God! such joy was not to be. + + + The clouds fly fast, the wind the leaves is sweeping, + A heavy shower falls o'er woods and meads: + The weather with my parting is in keeping, + Gray as the sky my path before me leads. + Whatever may come, joy's smile or bitter sighing, + Thou lovely maid! I'll think of naught but thee! + Preserve thee God! my joy seemed once undying, + Preserve thee God! such joy was not for me. + + + + SONGS OF THE CAT HIDDIGEIGEI. + + + I. + + Honest folks are turning lately + Their attention to the Muses, + And with ease compose their own songs + For their daily household uses. + + Therefore I shall also try it, + On light pinions freely winging; + For, who dares deny our talent, + Takes from cats the right of singing? + + + If I always run to book-stores + I shall find it too expensive; + And their gaudy books contain oft + Naught but trash, weak and offensive. + + + II. + + When through vales and on the mountains + Roars the storm at midnight drear, + Clambering over ridge and chimney + Hiddigeigei doth appear. + + + Like a spirit he stands up there, + Never looked he half so fair; + Fire from his eyes is streaming, + Fire from his bristling hair. + + + And he howls in fierce wild measure, + An old war-cry caterwauling, + Which is borne off by the storm-wind, + Like the distant thunder rolling. + + + Not a soul then ever sees him, + Each is sleeping in his house; + But far down, deep in the cellar, + Listens the poor trembling mouse. + + + For his voice she recognises, + And she knows that, when in rage, + Most ferocious is the aspect + Of this valiant feline sage. + + + III. + + From the tower's highest summit + Gaze I at the world below; + From my lofty seat I'm able + To observe life's ceaseless flow. + + + And the cat's green eyes are staring, + And he laughs within his sleeve, + That those pygmies there are trying + Such great follies to achieve. + + + What's the use? Up to my level + Never can I raise mankind. + Let them follow their devices, + Small their loss is, to my mind. + + + For perverted are men's actions, + And their work is woe and crash. + Conscious of his own great value, + Grins the cat down on this trash! + + + IV. + + O the world does us injustice, + And for thanks I look quite vainly; + For the finest chords of feline + Nature, it mistakes so plainly. + + + Thus, if some one falls down drunken, + And a throbbing like a hammer + Racks his heavy head on waking, + Germans call it _Katzenjammer_. + + + Katzenjammer, oh great insult! + Gentle is our caterwauling; + Only men I hear too often + Through the streets at night-time bawling. + + + Yes! they do us great injustice, + Never can be comprehending + All the deep and morbid sorrow + Which a poor cat's heart is rending. + + + V. + + Hiddigeigei often has raved with delight, + The true, good, and beautiful seeking; + Hiddigeigei often felt grief's deadly blight, + And with tender sad yearnings was weeping. + + + Hiddigeigei once has felt his heart glow, + When the fairest of cats he was wooing; + And just as a troubadour's love-songs flow, + Rang nightly his spirited mewing. + + + Hiddigeigei many a valiant fight, + Like the Paladin Roland, was waging; + But men have often belaboured his hide, + And with dropping hot pitch made him raging. + + + Hiddigeigei to his sorrow found out, + That his fair one was false and deceiving + That from a poor insignificant lout + She was secretly visits receiving. + + + Hiddigeigei then did open his eyes, + Left off his pining and yearning; + The world henceforth he learned to despise, + To his inner self earnestly turning. + + + VI. + + Lovely month of May, how hateful + To a cat you are, and dreary + Ne'er I thought such din of music + Could a cat's heart make so weary. + + From the branches, from the bushes + Birds their warbling notes are ringing; + Far and wide, as if for money, + Men I hear forever singing. + + + There the cook sings in the kitchen-- + Is love also her head turning? + In falsetto she now screameth, + That with rage my soul is burning. + + + Farther upward will I clamber, + To the terrace slowly wending. + Woe to me, for from the garden + Are my neighbour's songs ascending. + + + Even next the roof I cannot + Find the rest for which I'm pining; + Near me dwells a crazy poet, + His own verses ever whining. + + + When despairing to the cellar + Down I rush the noise escaping; + Ah, above me they are dancing, + To the pipes, and fiddles' scraping. + + + Harmless tribe! Your lyric madness + You'll continue, while there yonder, + In the East, the clouds are gathering, + Soon to burst in tragic thunder. + + + VII. + + May has come now. To the thinker, + Who the causes of phenomena + Searches, 'tis a natural sequence: + In the centre of creation + Are two aged white cats standing, + Who the world turn on its axis; + And their labour there produces + The recurring change of seasons. + + + But why is it in the May month + That my eyes are ever ogling, + That my heart is so impassioned? + And why is it that I daily + Must be leering sixteen hours + From the terrace, as if nailed there, + At the fair cat Apollonia, + At the black-haired Jewess Rachel? + + + VIII. + + A strong bulwark 'gainst enticements + I have built on good foundations; + But to the most virtuous even + Sometimes come unsought temptations. + + + And more ardent than in youth's time, + The old dream comes o'er me stealing; + I on memory's pinions soar up, + Filled with burning amorous feeling. + + + Oh fair Naples, land of beauty, + With thy nectar-cup thou cheerest! + To Sorrento I'd be flying. + To a roof to me the dearest. + + + Old Vesuvius and the white sails + On the bay are greeting bringing, + And the olive-woods are gladdened + By the spring-birds' joyous singing. + + + To the Loggia slinks Carmela, + Strokes my beard with soft caresses; + Of all cats by far the fairest, + Lovingly my paw she presses. + + + And she looks on me with longing, + But now hark! there is a howling; + Is the surf thus loudly roaring? + Or is old Vesuvius growling? + + + 'Tis not old Vesuvius growling, + For he holds now his vacation. + In the yard, destruction vowing, + Barks the worst dog in creation-- + + + Barks the worst dog in creation-- + Barks Francesco, loudly yelling; + And my lovely dream's enchantment + He thus rudely is dispelling. + + + IX. + + Hiddigeigei strictly shunneth + What his conscience might be hurting; + But he oft connives benignly + At his fellow-cats' gay flirting. + + Hiddigeigei with great ardour + Makes the mice-hunt his chief duty; + And he frets not if another + With sweet music worships beauty. + + + Quoth the wise cat Hiddigeigei: + Ere it rots, the fruit be plucking; + So, if years should come of famine, + Memory's paws remain for sucking. + + + X. + + Even a God-fearing conduct, + Cannot keep us from declining; + With despair I see already + In my fur some gray hairs shining. + + + Yes, unpitying Time destroyeth + All for which we've boldly striven; + For against the sharp-toothed tyrant + Nature has no weapons given. + + + Unadmired and forgotten + We fall victims to this power. + Wish I could, with fury raging, + Eat both clock-hands of the tower. + + + XI. + + Long past is the time, ere man in his might + O'er the earth his dominion was spreading; + When the mammoth roamed in his ancient right + Through the forests which crashed 'neath his + treading. + + + In vain may'st thou search now far and near + For the Lion, the desert's great ruler; + But we must remember, that we live here + In a climate decidedly cooler. + + + In life and in fiction is given no praise + To the great and the highly gifted; + And ever weaker is growing the race + Till genius to nothing is sifted. + + + When cats disappear the mice raise their voice, + Till they like the others skedaddle; + At last in mad frolic we hear _them_ rejoice-- + The infusoria rabble. + + + XII. + + Hiddigeigei sees with sorrow + To a close his days are drawing; + Death may come at any moment, + So deep grief his heart is gnawing. + + + O how gladly I the riches + Of my wisdom would be preaching, + That in joy as well as sorrow + Cats might profit from my teaching. + + + Ah! the road of life is rugged; + On it rough sharp stones are lying. + Stumbling o'er this path so dreary, + Sprained and bruised we limp on crying. + + + Life oft useless wounds is giving. + For 'tis full of brawls and knavery; + Vainly many cats have fallen + Victims to an empty bravery. + + + But for what this constant fretting? + The young cats are laughing ever, + No advice from me accepting-- + Only suffering makes them clever. + + + Let us see what they'll accomplish; + History's teachings are derided: + His sage maxims ne'er to publish, + Hiddigeigei has decided. + + + XIII. + + Growing weaker, breathing harder, + Soon I'll feel Death's shadow o'er me: + Make my grave there in the store-house, + In my former field of glory. + + + Valiantly all round me slaying + Fought I like a raging lion: + In his armour clad then bury + Of his race the last brave scion. + + + Yes the last, because the offspring + Win their parents equal never! + They are good but wooden people, + Not so witty nor as clever. + + + Wooden are they, thinking solely + Of the moment, hollow hearted; + Only few still hold as sacred + The bequests of the departed. + + + But sometime, when years have passed by, + In my grave I've long been sleeping, + Then will come the angry cat's howl + Nightly down upon you sweeping. + + + Hiddigeigei's solemn warning + Will you from your slumber waken: + Ever fear the coils of dulness! + Save yourselves, ye God-forsaken! + + + + SONGS OF THE SILENT MAN. + + FROM THE CAVE OF THE GNOMES. + + + I. + + Quiet heart! O ponder lonely, + Valiant, by no fears assailed; + Only in calm meditation + Lofty secrets are unveiled. + + + While the storms of life are raging, + While mean souls for trifles fight. + Thou on wings of song art soaring + O'er the mob in purer light. + + + Leave the dusty road to others, + And thy soul unsullied keep, + A clear mirror, like the ocean, + Where the sun has sunk to sleep. + + + O'er the world's loud bustle rising, + Soars the eagle lone on high; + Cranes and storks, they flock together, + But close to the earth do fly. + + + Quiet heart! O ponder lonely, + Valiant, by no fears assailed; + Only in calm meditation + Lofty secrets are unveiled. + + + II. + + Leave all commonplace forever, + Digging deeply, upward soaring; + For rich Nibelungen-treasures + Lie all ready for exploring. + + + From the mountains we see shining + Distant seas and shores of beauty; + While beneath we hear the booming + Of the gnomes hard at their duty. + + + Manna-like is spread around us + Spiritual food abundant; + And before our vision rises + The old truth with light redundant-- + + + As coarse threads and fine together + In _one_ net are intertwisting, + So the same laws are forever + For the small and great existing. + + + But a point comes,--sad confession?-- + Where to pause, our thoughts restraining; + At the limit of perception + Is mysterious silence reigning. + + + III. + + Past me wander beings pallid, + Fill the air with words of anguish: + All our doings are invalid, + Sick and old, we slowly languish. + + + Have you ne'er the wondrous story + Found in ancient books related, + Of the spring, wherein the hoary + Plunged, then rose rejuvenated? + + + And this fountain is no fiction, + Within reach of all 'tis flowing; + But you've lost the true direction, + Farther from its traces going. + + + In the forests' verdant bowers, + Where deep calm the soul entrances, + Where on graceful ferns and flowers + Elves sweep through their nightly dances: + + + There by stones and moss well hidden, + Rush the waters from the mountain; + From Earth's bosom springs unbidden, + Ever fresh, this magic fountain. + + + There with peace the soul is ravished; + There the mind regains its powers; + And the wealth of Spring is lavished + O'er old wounds in blossom-showers. + + + IV. + + Wilt thou know the world more clearly, + See then what before thee lies; + How from matter and from forces + The whole fabric doth arise. + + + Of the fixed forms of creation + Thou the moving cause must see; + In the changes of phenomena + Find what lasts eternally. + + + In presumptuous opinions + Fresh pure seeds ne'er germinate; + By deep meditation only + Human minds explore, create. + + + V. + + With the eagle's piercing sight endowed, + And the heart with hope o'erflowing, + I found myself with a mounted crowd + To thought's fierce battle going. + + + The banners high, the lance in rest, + The enemy's ranks were broken. + On their broad backs, O what a jest, + To mark a nice blue token! + + + We came at last to the end of our course, + O'er our failure in knowledge repining; + Then slowly I turned my gallant horse, + Myself to silence resigning; + + + Too proud to believe--my thoughts all free,-- + To the cave as a refuge flying. + The world is far too shallow for me, + The core is deeper lying. + + + I for my weapons no longer care, + In the corner there they lie rusting. + No priggish fool to provoke me shall dare, + To my valour alone I am trusting. + + + These owls and bats a look alone + Suffices to abolish; + Still serveth well an ass's bone, + The Philistines to demolish. + + + VI. + + Be proud, and thy lot nobly bear, + From tears and sighs desisting; + Like thee will many others fare, + While thinkers are existing. + + + There are many problems left unsolved + By former speculations; + But when thou art to dust resolved, + Come other generations. + + + The wrinkles on thy lofty brow + Let them go on increasing, + They are the scars which show us how + Thought's struggle was unceasing. + + + And if no laurel-crown to thee + To deck thy brow be given; + Still be thou proud; thy soul so free + For thought alone has striven. + + + + SOME OF MARGARETTA'S SONGS. + + + I. + + How proud he is and stately! + How noble is his air! + A trumpeter he's only, + Yet I for him do care. + + + And owned he castles seven, + He could not look more fair. + O would to him were given + Another name to bear! + + + Ah, were he but a noble, + A knight of the Golden Fleece! + Love, thou art full of trouble, + Love, thou art full of peace. + + + II. + + Two days now have passed already, + Since I gave him that first kiss; + Ever since that fatal hour + All with me has gone amiss. + + + My dear little room, so pretty, + Where so nice a life I led, + Is now in such dire confusion. + That it almost turns my head. + + + My sweet roses and carnations, + Withered now, for care ye pine! + Oh, I think, instead of water, + I have deluged you with wine. + + + My dear lovely snow-white pigeon + Has no water and no bread; + And the goldfinch in his cage there + Looks as if he were half dead. + + + I am putting blue and red yarn + In my white net as I knit; + And I work in my embroidery + White wool where it doth not fit. + + + Where are Parcival and Theuerdank? + If I only, only knew! + I believe that I those poets + In the kitchen-pantry threw. + + + And the kitchen plates are standing + On the book-case--what a shame! + Ah, for all these many blunders + I my love, my love must blame! + + + III. + + Away he is gone in the wide wide world; + No word of farewell has he spoken. + Thou fresh young player in wood and mead, + Thou sun whose light is my daily need, + When wilt thou send me a token? + + + I hardly had time in his eyes to gaze, + When the dream already had vanished; + Oh Love, why dost thou two lovers unite, + With thy burning torch their hearts ignite, + When their bliss so soon must be banished? + + + And where does he go? The world is so large, + So full of deep snares for a rover. + He even may go to Italia, where + The women, I hear, are so false and so fair! + May Heaven protect my dear lover. + + + + FIVE YEARS LATER. + + WERNER'S SONGS FROM ITALY. + + + I. + + Too well were all things going, + Therefore it could not last; + My cheeks my grief are showing, + Misfortune came too fast. + + + The violet and clover, + The flowers all are gone. + 'Mid frost and snow, a rover + I wander sad alone. + + + Good luck will never favour + The man who nothing dares; + But he who does not waver + The smile of fortune shares. + + + II. + + A lonely rock juts upward + Just by the craggy strand; + The angry foaming waters + Have torn it from the land. + + + Now in green waves half sunken + Defiantly it lies; + The snow-white gulls are flying + Around it with shrill cries. + + + There on the heaving billows + Is dancing a light boat; + The sounds of plaintive singing + Up to the lone rock float: + + + "O that I to my country, + And to my love were borne; + O home in dear old Rhine-land, + For thee my heart is torn!" + + + III. + + Bewitched I am by the summer night, + In silent thought I am riding; + Bright glow-worms through the thicket fly + Like happy dreams, which in times gone by + My longing heart were delighting. + + + Bewitched I am by the summer night. + In silent thought I am riding; + The golden stars shine so far and bright, + In the water's fair bosom is mirrored their light, + As, in Time's deep sea, love abiding. + + + Bewitched I am by the summer night, + In silent thought I am riding; + The nightingale sings from the myrtle tree, + He warbles so meltingly, tenderly, + As if Fate his heart had been blighting. + + + Bewitched I am by the summer night, + In silent thought I am riding; + The sea rises high, the waves do frown; + Wherefore these useless tears which down + The rider's wan cheeks are gliding? + + + IV. + + 'Neath the waves the sun is going, + With bright hues the sky is glowing, + Twilight o'er the earth is stealing, + Far-off evening bells are pealing: + Thee I think of, Margaretta. + + + On the rocky crag I'm lying, + Stranger in a strange land sighing; + Round my feet the waves are dancing, + Through my soul float dreams entrancing: + Thee I think of, Margaretta. + + + V. + + Oh Roman girl, why lookest thou + At me with burning glances? + Thine eye, though beautiful it be, + The stranger ne'er entrances. + + + Beyond the Alps there is a grave, + The Rhine watch o'er it keepeth; + And three wild roses bloom thereon; + Therein my love-dream sleepeth. + + + Oh Roman girl, why lookest thou + At me with burning glances? + Thine eye, though beautiful it be, + The stranger ne'er entrances. + + + VI. + + Outside the gates when walking, + I see of life no trace; + There is the wide-spread graveyard + Of the ancient Roman race. + + + They rest from love and hatred, + From pleasure, strife, and guilt; + There in the Appian Way are + Their tombs of marble built + + + A tower greets me, gilded + By the setting sun's last rays-- + Caecilia Metella, + At thy proud tomb I gaze. + + + My eyes are turning northward, + As 'mid this pile I stand; + My thoughts are swiftly flying + Far from this southern land, + + + On to another tower, + With stones of smaller size; + By the shady vine-clad window + I see my love's sweet eyes. + + + VII. + + The world lies now encircled + By the frosty winter night. + No use that by the hearth-stone + I think of love's sad flight. + + + The logs will soon be burnt out, + To ashes all will fall; + The embers will cease glowing, + That is the end of all. + + + It is the same old story, + I think of nothing more + But silence and forgetting-- + Forget what I adore? + + + VIII. + + The crowd it frolics, shouts and sings, + Disturbs Rome's usual quiet; + Mad folly high her banner swings, + And thronging masks run riot. + + + Now up and down the Corso pace + Gay coaches 'mid wild showers; + The Carnival's great sport takes place, + The fight with chalk and flowers. + + + Confetti and fair roses fly, + Bouquets are thickly raining. + That hit--good luck! how glows her eye! + Thou art the victory gaining. + + + And thou, my heart, mirth also show, + Forget what thou hast suffered; + Let bygone times and bygone woe + With flowers sweet be covered. + + + IX. + + By the clear green Lake of Nemi + An old maple-tree doth grow; + Through its lofty leafy summit + The breezes sadly blow. + + + By the clear green Lake of Nemi + A young musician lies, + He hums a song, while many + Tears glisten in his eyes. + + + On the clear green Lake of Nemi + The waves so gently flow; + The maple and musician + Their own minds do not know. + + + By the clear green Lake of Nemi + Is the best inn of the land; + Praiseworthy macaroni, + And wine of famous brand. + + + The maple and musician + Are crazy both, I think; + Else they would go there yonder, + Grow sane by honest drink. + + + X. + + My heart is filled with rancour, + The storm howls all around; + Thou art the man I want now, + Thou false Italian hound. + + + Thy dagger's thrust I parried; + Now, worthy friend, beware + How from a German sword's stroke + Thy Italian skull will fare. + + + The sun's last rays had vanished + Far from the Vatican; + It rose to shine next morning + Upon a lifeless man. + + + XI. + + Oh Ponte Molle, thou bridge of renown, + Near thee many draughts have I swallowed down, + From bottles in wicker-work braided. + Oh Ponte Molle, what is the cause + That I between my glasses now pause, + Can hardly to drink be persuaded? + + + Oh Ponte Molle, 'tis strange in truth, + That the lovely days of my vanished youth + And love's old dream are recurring. + Through the land the hot sirocco blows, + And within my heart the old flame glows, + Sweet music within me is stirring. + + + Oh Tiber-stream, oh St. Peter's dome, + Oh thou all-powerful ancient Rome, + Naught care I for all thou containest. + Where'er in my restless wanderings I rove, + My gentle and lovely Schwarzwald-love, + The fairest on earth thou remainest! + + + Oh Ponte Molle, how lovely was she! + And if I thousands of girls should see, + To love but the one I am willing. + And if ever thy solid pile should bear + The weight of her footsteps, I will swear, + Even thy cold frame would be thrilling. + + + But useless the longing and useless the woe, + The sun is too ardent so far to go, + And flying is not yet invented. + Padrone, another bottle of wine! + This Orvieto so pearly and fine + Makes even a sad heart contented. + + + Oh Ponte Molle, thou bridge of renown, + Hast thou on my head called witchcraft down + For my love-sick and dreamy talking? + A cloud of dust whirls up to the sky, + A herd of oxen now passing by + Blocks up the way I am walking. + + + XII. + + (_Monte testaccio._) + + I do not know what the end will be; + O'er the low ground spreads the gloaming, + The ominous bat already I see + As she starts on her nightly roaming. + On Ponte Molle all is still, + I think the good old hostess will + Very soon the inn be closing. + + + A little owl I hear there screech + In the cypress grove 'tis hiding; + Campagna fogs up there now reach, + Over gate and city gliding. + They roll and float like ghostly troops + Round Cestius' Pyramid in groups; + What are the dead there wanting? + + + Now bursts a light around the hill, + The leaden gray clouds are fast going; + The full moon's face rises slow and still, + With envy's yellow hue glowing. + She shines so pale, she shines so cold, + Right into the goblet which I hold; + That cannot be a good omen. + + + He who from his sweetheart is torn away, + Will love her more dearly than ever; + And who doth long in the night-air stay, + Will catch most surely a fever. + And now the hostess the light puts out, + Felice notte! I back to her shout; + The bill I'll settle to-morrow. + + + XIII. + + Awaking from my slumber + I hear the skylark sing; + The rosy morning greets me, + The fresh young day of Spring. + + + In the garden waves the palm-tree + Mysteriously its crown, + And on the distant sea-shore + The surf rolls up and down; + + + And azure-blue the heavens, + The golden sun so bright; + My heart, what more is wanting? + Chime in with all thy might! + + + And now pour out thy praises + To God, who oft gave proof, + He never would forsake thee-- + 'Tis thou who kept aloof. + + + XIV. + + To serve, to serve! an evil ring, + Has this word so harsh and frigid; + My love is gone, my life's sweet Spring; + My heart, become not rigid. + + + My trumpet looks so sad to-day, + With crape around it winding; + In a cage they put the player gay, + Lay on him fetters binding. + + + Deep grief and pain infest his way, + His heart with arrows stinging; + For his daily bread he has to play, + He can no more be singing. + + + Who on the Rhine sang to his lyre. + Of all save joy unheeding, + Is now--sad fate--the Pope's great choir + In the Sistine Chapel leading. + + + + FIFTEENTH PART. + + THE MEETING IN ROME. + + + Scorching lay the heat of summer + Over Rome, th' Eternal City; + Sluggishly his yellow waters + Rolls the Tiber, rolls them seaward, + Through the sultry air; however, + Not so much from choice, but rather + From a sense of duty, knowing + That it is a river's business. + Deep down at the river's bottom, + Sat old Tiber, and he muttered: + + + "Oh how slowly time is dragging! + I am weary! Would the end were + Of this dull monotonous motion! + Will no storm ere raise a flood-tide, + To engulf this little country, + And drag all the brooks and rivers, + Also me--the river veteran-- + And embrace us all together + In the ocean's mighty bosom? + E'en to wash the walls forever + Of old Rome I find most tedious. + And what matter that this region + And myself are held as classic? + Vanished, turned to dust and ashes, + Are those genial Roman poets, + Who, their brows adorned with laurel, + And their hearts imbued with rhythm, + Formerly have sung my praises. + Then came others, long since vanished, + Others followed in their stead, like + Pictures in a magic lantern. + Well! to me 'tis all the same, if + Only they would not disturb me. + Oh what have these busy mortals + Thrown into my quiet waters, + Quite regardless of my comfort! + Where my nymphs with sacred rushes + Had arranged for me a pillow, + For my usual siesta, + There now lie great heaps of rubbish, + Roman helmets, Gaulish weapons, + Old utensils of Etruria, + And the lovely marble statues + Which once from the tomb of Hadrian + Down upon thick-headed Goths fell; + And the bones all mixed together + Of defenders and aggressors; + Just as if my river-bed were + An historic lumber chamber. + Oh how sick I am and weary! + Worn-out world, when wilt thou die?" + + + Whilst now thus the worthy Tiber + Gave full vent unto his anger + By this discontented grumbling, + There above gay life was surging, + And arrayed in festal garments + Crowds went toward the Vatican. + On St. Angelo's Bridge was hardly + Room enough for all the passers. + Crowding came in Spanish mantles, + Wigs and swords, the grand Signori; + Then some black Franciscan friars, + Also Capuchins, and common + Roman burghers. Here and there a + Sun-burnt and wild-looking shepherd + Of the near Campagna wore with + Classic grace his tattered garment; + And among them, with light footsteps, + Walked the lovely Roman maidens, + With black veils, although this covering + Did not hide their fervent glances. + (O how can the glowing sunshine, + Even when its rays are gathered + By adepts in their reflectors, + E'er compare with Roman glances? + Heart which felt their flames, be silent!) + + + From the castle of St. Angelo + Flutter gaily many banners, + Bearing all the Pope's insignia, + Both the mitre and the crossed keys, + Giving notice of the feast-day + Kept in honour of St. Peter. + + + There before the proud cathedral + Were the sparkling fountains playing; + Through the spray the vivid rainbow + Glitters o'er the granite basins. + And the obelisk gigantic + Of Rameses, King of Egypt, + Looked upon the crowd of people, + In his native tongue lamenting: + "Most perplexing are these Romans! + In the time of Nero hardly + Did I comprehend their doings; + Now still less I understand them. + But this much I have discovered, + That the climate here is chilly. + Amun-Re, thou god of sunlight, + Take me home to my old friends there, + To the Sphinx, and let me once more + Hear the prayer of Memnon's column + Through the glowing desert ringing!" + + + On the broad steps of the Vatican + And beneath the marble columns + Tall Swiss halberdiers are walking + To and fro in keeping watch there. + Clanging through the hall the echo + Of their heavy tread is ringing. + To the gray old corporal turning + Speaks a youthful soldier sadly: + "Fine, indeed, and proud we Swiss are, + And I see no other soldiers + In the streets of Rome as jaunty + As we look with our cuirasses, + In the black, red, yellow doublet. + Many burning glances shyly + From the windows fall upon us; + But the heart is wildly yearning + Homeward, homeward for the mountains, + As at Strasburg on the bulwarks + When the Alpine horn was blowing. + Willingly would I give up all, + Earnest money, silver scudi, + E'en the Holy Father's blessing, + E'en the wine of Orvieto + Which pearls sweetly in the goblet, + Could I once again be chasing + Boldly on their tracks the chamois + O'er the rocks, near avalanches, + On the craggy steep Pilatus; + Or steal gently in the moonlight + Over fragrant Alpine meadows + To the faintly-lighted cottage, + To the dairy-maid, the light-haired + Kunigund of Appenzell; + And then greet the golden sunrise + With a joyful heartfelt jodel. + Oh Saint Peter, thy fine music + I should miss without regretting, + Could I hear again the well-known + Sharp shrill whistle of the marmot + In its lonely Alpine cave!" + + + On the steps of the cathedral + Stood in crowds close packed together + Elegant and idle dandies, + Holding muster over all the + Carriages and great state coaches + Which came quickly driving up there. + "Do you see the Eminenza + With that round face like the full moon, + With the double chin, he's leaning + On the servant in rich livery? + 'Tis the Cardinal Borghese. + He would rather now be sitting + Quiet in the Sabine mountains + In the airy villa by the + Rural beauty Donna Baldi. + He's a man of taste, a scholar, + Loves the classics, and especially + Doth he love the true Bucolic." + + + "Who is that?" now asked another, + "That imposing-looking person? + Don't you see there what a splendid + Chain of honour he is wearing; + How he shakes his periwig now + Like th' Olympian Jupiter?" + "What, you do not known him?" answered + Then loquaciously another, + "Him, the Chevalier Bernini? + Who has just restored the Pantheon, + Who upon St. Peter's also + Has bestowed such rich adornments, + And the golden tabernacle + Built o'er Peter's grave, which cost more + Than a hundred thousand scudi. + Take your hat off! Since the world was, + Has she seen no greater master, + Nor--" He was then interrupted + By a man with gray moustaches, + Who his shoulder tapped and scornful + Said: "You are mistaken; never + Saw the world a greater bungler! + I say this, Salvator Rosa." + + + Coaches come, in front postilions; + Splendid uniforms are glittering + And with retinue attended + Steps an aged lady onward + To the portal of the Dome. + "How she's fading," said then someone, + "The illustrious Queen of Sweden! + Do you still recall her lovely + Looks when first she made her entrance? + Then the Gate del Popolo looked + Just as if built out of flowers; + And as far as Ponte Molle + Came the Romans out to greet her. + Down the long street of the Corso + Unto the Venetian Palace + Were the shouts of joy unending. + Do you see that little hunchback + Standing there, who now is sneezing? + He stands high in grace and favour + As one of the queen's attendants. + He's a scholar of deep learning, + The philologist Naudaeus. + He knows everything that happened, + And sometime ago he even, + Over there at Prince Corsini's, + Danced an ancient Saltarello + To instruct the royal party, + Whose loud laughter was heard plainly + Even far off by the Tiber." + + + In the throng now quite unnoticed + Came a heavy lumbering carriage; + In it were two black-robed ladies; + On the box sat worthy Anton + As their coachman, calling loudly: + "Room ye people for the gracious + Lady Abbess and my mistress!" + Called in German, which roused laughter. + With bewildered eyes he looked round + At the foreign scene, and just then + Passing by the queen's attendants, + He beheld a gray old coachman, + And he muttered from his coach-box: + "Don't I know thee, Swedish rascal? + Didst thou not belong once to the + Regiment of Sudermanland? + Do you now expect my thanks here + For the cut you had the kindness + To bestow upon my arm once + In the fight at Nuremberg? + A most marvellous place is truly + This old Rome, for long-forgotten + Friends and foes meet here again!" + + + On the classic soil of Italy + Now my song greets Margaretta. + Gladly would it strew its fairest + Blossoms on the path to welcome + And to cheer this pallid maiden, + So that smiles might light her features; + For, since Werner left the castle, + Pleasure had become a stranger. + Only once they saw her laughing, + When the Suabian younker came there; + But it was a bitter laughter, + Harsh, discordant as a string sounds + On a mandolin when snapping; + And the younker then returned thence + Single, as from home he started. + Silently the maiden sorrowed + As the months and years sped onward; + Till at last the Princess Abbess, + Filled with pity, told the Baron: + "On our soil your child no longer + Thrives as heretofore, but slowly + Her poor heart from grief is withering. + Change of air oft worketh wonders. + Let me take then Margaretta + With me to the Holy City, + Where in spite of age I'm going; + For, in Chur the wicked bishop + Threatens to deprive our convent + Of our fairest Swiss possessions, + And I shall complain of him there, + Saying to the Holy Father: + 'Show me mercy, justly punish + The harsh bishop of the Grisons.'" + Said the Baron: "Take her with you; + And may Heaven grant its blessing, + That you may bring back my daughter + Rosy-cheeked and happy-hearted." + Thus to Italy they travelled + With old Anton as their coachman. + + + Now the carriage-door he opened, + And alighting, the old Abbess, + Followed by fair Margaretta, + Walked up to the church and entered. + Margaretta gazed in wonder + At the vastness of the building, + Where man seems reduced to nothing; + At the giant marble columns, + And the dome with gold overladen. + In the niche of the great nave stands + The bronze statue of St. Peter, + Which this day in papal vestments + Was arrayed, the gold brocade robe + Hanging stiffly on the statue; + On the head the Bishop's mitre. + And they saw how many people + Kissed the foot of this bronze statue. + Then a papal chamberlain led + Both the German ladies forward + To a seat close by the altar, + Place of honour kept for strangers. + Now was heard the sound of music; + And the Holy Father coming + Through the side-door from the Vatican + Made his entrance to St. Peter's. + Stout Swiss halberdiers were marching + At the head of the procession, + Followed by the celebrated + Singers of the papal choir. + Heavy music-books were carried + By the choristers, some hardly + Strong enough to bear the folios. + Then there came in motley order + Monsignori robed in violet; + Abbots followed then and prelates, + And the canons of St. Peter's, + Heavy looking, their fat figures + Corresponding to their livings. + Leaning on his staff the General + Of the Capuchins walked slowly + For a load of more than ninety + Years was resting on his shoulders; + But his brain was working out still + Many plans with youthful vigour. + With Franciscans from the cloister + Ara c[oe]li also came the + Prior of Pallazuola. + By the shores of Lake Albano, + 'Neath the shade of Monte Cavo, + Stands his little monastery, + Peaceful spot for idle dreamers. + On he walked in deep thought buried; + And who knows wherefore his mutterings + Did not sound like prayer, but more like + "Fare-thee-well, Amalia." + After them the choicest portion, + All the cardinals, were walking, + Their long robes of scarlet colour + On the marble pavement trailing. + "Heart, be patient," so was thinking + Cardinal di Ottoboni; + "Now I'm second to the Pope yet, + But in seven years most likely + I shall mount St Peter's chair." + Then a train of cavaliers came + With their shining swords, and followed + In strict military order; + 'Twas the Pope's own guard of honour. + And at last the Holy Father + Made his entrance, being carried + On a throne by eight strong bearers. + O'er his head were held by pages + The great fans of peacock-feathers. + Snow-white were his festal garments; + And his right hand, raised in blessing, + Wore the signet-ring of Peter. + Low the crowd knelt down in silence. + + + At the foot of the High Altar + The procession had arrived now, + And the Pope held solemn service + Over the Apostle's grave. + Solemnly and gravely sounded + The peculiar choral measures + Which old Master Palestrina + Had in his strict style composed. + And the aged Lady Abbess + Prayed with fervent deep devotion. + But fair Margaretta's glances + Were directed up to heaven, + Whence these solemn strains of music + Seemed to her to be descending. + But her eye was then attracted + To the singers' box--she trembled: + For, amid the group of singers, + Though half hidden by a column, + Stood a stately light-haired figure. + And again she looked now upward; + From her sight the Pope had vanished, + All the Cardinals had vanished, + Likewise all the nine-and-eighty + Burning lamps o'er Peter's grave. + "My old dream, dost thou return then? + My old dream, why dost thou haunt me + Even in these sacred precincts?" + + + The last notes had died out softly, + And the Holy Mass was ended. + "Oh how pale you look, dear lady!" + Said the aged Lady Abbess. + "Take my vial, it will help you, + It contains the finest essence + Which I bought myself in Florence + At the cloister of San Marco." + + + The procession of the singers + Passed just then before the ladies. + "God in heaven! oh have mercy! + Yes, 'tis he! I know the scar there + On his brow--it is my Werner!" + Dark before her eyes it grew now, + And her heart was beating wildly. + No more could her feet support her, + And the maiden sank down fainting + On the hard cold floor of marble. + + + + + SIXTEENTH PART. + + SOLUTION AND END. + + Innocentius the Eleventh + Was kind-hearted; and his dinner + He had just now greatly relished. + At dessert he still was sitting, + And while luscious fruit enjoying, + Said to Cardinal Albani: + "Who was that young pallid lady, + Who this morning in St. Peter's + Fell upon the floor and fainted?" + Answered Cardinal Albani: + "On this subject just at present + I can give no information; + But the Monsignor Venusto + I will ask, for he knows always + What in Rome is daily happening; + Knows what in salons is gossiped, + What the senators are doing, + What is drunk by Flemish artists, + What is sung by Prima Donnas, + Even what the puppet-show is + Playing on the Square Navona. + There is naught the Monsignore + Can't unravel and discover." + E'en before was served the coffee + (At that time this was a novel + Beverage and rarely taken, + Only on the highest feast-days) + Had the Cardinal already + Learnt the facts. He thus related: + "This pale maiden is a noble + Lady, who has travelled hither + With that German Princess Abbess; + And she saw--most marvellously-- + In the church a man this morning, + Whom she once had lost her heart with, + And whom, still more marvellously, + She unto this day is loving, + Notwithstanding and in spite of + Want of noble birth and titles, + And her father's stem refusal. + And the cause of this her fainting + Is, again most marvellously, + No one else but Signor Werner, + Chapel-master to your Holiness. + This the Monsignor Venusto + Heard to-day, when on a visit + To the Abbess who related + Confidentially these facts." + + + Then the Pope said: "This is truly + A most strange and touching meeting. + Were the subject not too modern, + And the actors of the drama + Not such semi-barbarous Germans, + Then some poet might win laurels + In the sweet groves of Arcadia, + Should he sing this wondrous meeting. + But I truly take an interest + In the grave young Signor Werner. + Greatly has improved the singing + Of my choir, since he leads it, + And the taste for solemn music; + While my own Italian singers + Care too much for operatic + Tunes of lighter character. + Quietly he does his duty, + Of his own accord ne'er speaking; + Never begs of me a favour; + Never was his hand extended + To receive the gifts of bribery. + Yet examples of corruption + Are more frequent with us, surely, + Than the fleas in sultry summer. + Monsignor Venusto knows this! + Seems to me that this grave German + Is consumed by secret sorrow. + I should really like to know now, + If he's thinking of his love yet?" + + + Said the Cardinal Albani: + "I well-nigh may answer for this. + In the books kept on the conduct + Of all high and low officials + In the State and Church departments, + It is mentioned as a wonder + That he strictly shuns all women. + First we nourished a suspicion + That his heart had fallen victim + To the charms of the fair hostess + Of the inn near Vale Egeria. + He was seen each evening strolling + Through the Porta Sebastiano, + And outside there is no dwelling + But the tavern just now mentioned. + Thus such nightly promenading + Of one yet in early manhood + Could not but arouse suspicion. + Therefore we once sent two persons + Carefully to track his footsteps, + But they found him 'mid the ruined + Tombs along the Appian Way. + There had once a great patrician + Built a tomb to his freed woman, + Whom he'd brought as a remembrance + From Judaea, at the time of + The destruction of the Temple. + She was called Zatcha Achyba. + There he sat, the spies related; + 'Twas a subject for an artist: + The Campagna's sombre landscape; + Moonlight on the marble tombstone; + He his mantle wrapped around him; + Mournfully he blew his trumpet + Through the gloomy lonely silence. + This had brought upon him later + Many mocking jeers like this one: + 'Signor Werner is composing + For the Jewess there a requiem.'" + + + At this smiled the Holy Father, + And the Cardinals did likewise; + Following these high examples, + All the chamberlains smiled also; + Even Carlo Dolci's features + Now relaxed their gloomy sadness. + And the Pope said: "We must all have + Great respect for this young German. + It were well if many others + Who at night away are stealing, + To the Appian Way were going. + Signor Werner, I assure you, + Stands most high in my good graces, + And to-morrow he shall see it; + For, I recollect, I've granted + Then an audience to the Abbess." + + + On the first day of July in + Sixteen hundred seventy-nine, there + Rose the sun with special glory. + Cooling blew the tramontana + Through the cypresses and myrtles + In the Vatican's fair garden; + And the half-parched flowers gladly + Raised their heads, breathed out fresh fragrance, + O'er the bronze gigantic pine-cone,-- + Which once Hadrian's museum + Had adorned, and now was living + 'Mid the jessamines and roses, + As a pensioner contented,-- + Lively lizards swiftly glided, + Snapping at the tiny insects + Ever dancing in the sunshine. + Fountains played, and birds were singing; + E'en the pale old marble statues + With warm life became imbued. + And the satyr, with his reed flute, + Raised his foot as if intending + To go dancing round the garden; + But Apollo's hand waved warning: + "Friend, those times have passed forever; + Thou wouldst only raise a scandal." + Bathed in sunlight, Rome looks smiling + O'er the river at the Vatican; + From the sea of houses, churches, + And fair palaces, the Quirinal + Proudly rises; in the distance + Towers up the Capitolium + In the violet autumn haze. + + + Through the Boscareccio's verdant + Alleys swept the shining white robe + Of His Holiness, who kindly + To the Abbess and the maiden + Here had granted audience. + And the Abbess gained assurance, + That her lawsuit would be taken + Into prompt consideration. + Then to Margaretta turning. + Said the Pope: "None of the pilgrims + Ever leave Rome without comfort; + So I, as the soul's physician, + Must prevent another fainting." + And he whispered to a servant: + "Go and fetch the chapel-master." + + + Werner came: to stately manhood + In this southern clime he'd ripened + Since he left, a hopeless suitor, + The old castle in the Rhine-land. + Life's wild whirlpool, since that morning, + Had well tossed him hither thither. + Willingly I would relate here, + How he went to many countries; + How o'er land and sea he travelled; + How he with the Knights of Malta + Cruised against the Turkish corsairs; + Till at last a fate mysterious + Unto Rome had duly brought him. + But my song becomes impatient; + Like a driver who is snapping + At the door his whip, 'tis calling: + "Onward! On to the conclusion!" + Werner came; bewildered gazed he + Twice, yes thrice, at Margaretta, + Gazed at her in utter silence; + But his glances did express more + Than a printed folio volume. + 'Twas the glance with which Ulysses + Sitting by the suitors' corpses + Gazed upon his consort, from whom + He by twenty years of wandering + And of suffering had been parted. + + + Innocentius the Eleventh + Was kind-hearted, a discerner + Of men's hearts. Most kindly said he: + "Those whom Providence united + In His goodness and His wisdom, + Shall no more be separated. + Yesterday when in St. Peter's, + And to-day here in the garden, + I have come to the conviction, + That there is a case here waiting + For my papal interference. + "'Tis indeed a mighty power + Love, a power all subduing; + Than light even more ethereal, + Doth it penetrate all barriers, + And the chair of Peter also + Is not safe from its invasion + When it asks us for our help. + "But it is a pleasant duty + Of the head of Christendom, + To make smooth the path of lovers, + Every obstacle removing, + That true love may be victorious. + And of all the various nations, + 'Tis the Germans who beyond all + Keep us busy with such matters. + So the Count of Gleichen brought here + With him a fair Turkish consort + From the Holy Land, though knowing + His own consort still was living. + And our annals make full mention + Of our predecessor's troubles + Brought about by this wild action. + So likewise the most unhappy + Of all knights came here, Tannhauser: + "'Pope Urbano, Pope Urbano, + Heal the sick man held as captive + Seven years within the mountain + Of the wicked goddess Venus!' + But to-day the case is different + And more pleasing; there is nothing + Which conflicts with any canon. + There is only a slight scruple-- + If I've heard right--with the Baron. + You, my Werner, have been faithful, + But I read 'neath all this quiet + Resignation to your duty, + That reluctantly you sang here, + As a caged-up bird is singing. + Oft you've asked for your dismission, + Which I ever did deny you, + And to-day would never grant you, + If it only were the custom, + That the papal chapel-master + Could like other mortals marry. + But in Rome we must keep always, + As you know, traditions sacred; + Palestrina for this reason + Went himself to foreign lands. + "Therefore go with my full favour; + And because the lady's father + Thinks the name of Werner Kirchhof + Much too simple, so I grant you + Knighthood by my sovereign power. + You, I know, care naught about it; + For you by your art ennobled + Think such titles of no moment. + But perhaps the gracious lady + May consider it more proper, + To bestow her hand in marriage + On the Marquis Camposanto + Rather than on Master Werner. + And because I hold the power + Both to bind as well as loosen, + I now solemnly betroth you. + E'en this loveless age rejoices + At examples of devotion. + You have shown one--be then happy, + And receive my papal blessing." + + + This he spoke with much emotion. + And overwhelmed with grateful feelings + Werner knelt with Margaretta + Down before the Holy Father; + And the Abbess wept so freely + That the grass thought it was raining. + With the tears of the good Abbess + Closes now the touching story + Of the young musician Werner + And the lovely Margaretta. + + + But who's wandering late at night-time + Through the Corso, who is stealing + Through that dark and narrow side-street? + 'Tis the faithful coachman Anton; + Filled with joy is his whole being. + To give vent unto this feeling + He is going to the wine-house, + To the tavern del Fachino. + And to-night he is not drinking + Country wine in fogliette; + He has ordered a straw-covered + Bottle of good Orvieto + And of Monte Porzio. + Panes are crashing, fragments flying; + For he throws each empty bottle + In his rapture through the window. + Though indignant at the oil-drops + Which upon the wine are floating, + Just like comets in the ether, + Still he drinks and drinks with ardour; + Only while the tavern-keeper + Went to fetch him the sixth bottle + From the cellar, thus he spoke out: + "Thou, oh heart of an old coachman, + Now rejoice, for soon thou'lt harness + Thy good horses and drive homeward. + From the standpoint of a coachman + Italy is but a mournful + Land, behind in every comfort. + Horrid roads, and frequent toll-gates, + Musty stalls, and oats quite meagre, + Coaches rough! I feel insulted + Every time I see those waggons + Drawn by oxen yoked together. + The first element is wanting + Of a coachman's daily comfort, + 'Tis the handy German hostler. + Oh how much I miss those worthies! + Oh how gladly I will welcome + One in pointed cap and apron! + In my joy again to see him + I will hug and even kiss him. + And at home what great surprises + Are in store! Oh never was I + So impressed with the grave duties + Of a coachman as at present + At a proud trot, such as never + Has been seen in this whole country, + Shall I drive my lord and ladies + Home through Florence and Milan. + + + "At Schaffhausen, the last station + For our night's rest, I must promptly + Send a messenger on horseback, + And he must alarm the city: + 'Put up quickly all your banners, + Load your cannons for saluting, + And erect an arch of honour!' + Then we enter the next evening + Through the ancient gate in triumph, + And my whip I'll crack so loudly + That the town-house windows rattle. + Then I hear the aged Baron + Asking sharply: 'What's the meaning + Of these banners and this uproar?' + From afar I shout already: + 'Heaven's blessing rests upon us; + Here a bridal pair are coming, + And, my lord, they are your children.' + This day ne'er shall be forgotten! + In remembrance shall the tom-cat + Hiddigeigei have a genuine + Whole well-smoked Italian sausage. + For the sake of after ages + Must the good schoolmaster make me + A fine poem on this subject; + I don't care, e'en should it cost me + The amount of two whole thalers, + And it must conclude as follows: + 'From true love and trumpet-blowing + Many useful things are springing; + For true love and trumpet-blowing + E'en a noble wife are winning. + May true love and trumpet-blowing + Each one find good fortune bringing, + As our trumpeter young Werner, + On the Rhine at old Saekkingen.'" + + + + THE END. + + + + + NOTES. + + +The town of Saekkingen, where the scene of this poem is laid, is +situated amid beautiful scenery on the outskirts of the Schwarzwald +(Black Forest), on the right bank of the Rhine, and on the road from +Basel to Constance, about 30 miles above the former place. The town +owes its origin to the settlement of St. Fridolinus (as related in the +Third Part of the poem), who came here from Ireland in the 6th century, +and founded a monastery, afterwards converted into a convent for noble +ladies. The settlement was made on an island in the Rhine. In the poem +the town is still considered as lying on an island, but according to +the legend, St. Fridolinus altered the course of the Rhine, leading +its waters entirely to the west side of the island. + +The castle of Schoenau, on the site of the old castle of the Baron, the +father of the heroine of the story, stands close to the Rhine, and is +now the seat of Mr. Theodore Bally, the well-known wealthy and +benevolent proprietor of large silk manufactories. He has caused the +old tower of the castle to be restored, and intends to adorn its walls +with frescoes, representing scenes from the poem. + +_Page_ 1.--Michele Pagano, a very popular hotel-keeper in Capri, whose +hotel was mostly frequented by German artists. He died only very +recently, universally regretted. + +_Page_ 3.--The cat Hiddigeigei, the old Baron's cat, with which the +reader will become better acquainted as a philosophising cat in the +course of the poem. + +_Page_ 5.--Amaranth, a poem by Oscar von Redwitz, published a few years +before "The Trumpeter of Saekkingen," and at that time very popular, +especially with certain classes in Germany. + +_Page_ 13.--The Boezberg, a mountain in the Jura, over which the old +road from Basel to Zuerich led. Now the railroad between the two places +pierces it with a tunnel. + + --The Hozzenwald, the Hauenstein mountains. See note to page 15. + + --The Gallus Tower, an old tower at the upper extremity of Saekkingen, +properly called after St. Gallus, now used as a house of refuge for +homeless people. + +_Page_ 14.--The graveyard of Saekkingen contains still the tombstone of +the hero and heroine of the poem. Their names, as given there, are +Franz Werner Kirchhofer and Marie Ursula von Schoenau. The first died +in May, 1690, the latter in March of the following year. + +_Page_ 15.--The Eggberg is one of the mountains in the Hauenstein +country, to the north of Saekkingen. The inhabitants of this country +were formerly remarkable for their quaint costumes coming down from the +15th century. The men wore shirts with large frills around the neck, +red stomachers, long black jackets, and wide trousers reaching below +the knee, and called hozen. Hence the land was called Hozzenland. The +dress of the women was also very peculiar, and of many bright colours. +These old costumes are now rarely seen. + +_Page_ 17.--"The silvery lake," a romantic small lake, half an hour +N.W. from Saekkingen. It lies in a hollow on the hills, surrounded by +rocks and splendid fir-woods. The lake, which is known by the name of +Berg See (mountain lake), is now also called Scheffel See. It is a +favourite spot for excursions from far and near, and abounds in fish. + +_Page_ 19.--The Feldberg, the highest point of the Schwarzwald. + +_Page_ 20.--St. Blasien, formerly a very ancient monastery of +Benedictine monks, called thus after St. Blasius, Bishop of Sebaste, +whose relics were brought here by one of the early abbots. + +_Page_ 21.--"Then appeared as Death and Devil." This is the subject of +one of Albrecht Duerer's most celebrated engravings, called Ritter, Tod, +and Teufel (the Knight, Death, and the Devil), where the knight rides +quietly and unmoved through a gloomy mountain glen, smiling at Death, +who holds up an hourglass before him, and taking no notice at all of +the droll Devil, who tries to grasp him from behind. The knight is +evidently an embodiment of the freer spirit which began to reign then +in Germany. The engraving is of the year 1513. + +_Page_ 26.--"Far off on the island glisten." The town of Saekkingen with +its minster. + +_Page_ 30.--Rheinfeld, or rather Rheinfelden, a town on the left bank +of the Rhine, about halfway between Saekkingen and Basel, where, during +the Thirty Years' War, in the year 1638 several actions took place. + +_Page_ 32.--Wehr, a village about six miles from Saekkingen, on the road +to Schopfheim, in the neighbourhood of a stalactite cave (Hasler +Hoehle) mentioned in the Tenth Part. + +_Page_ 38.--Cujacius (Jacques de Cujas), a very distinguished jurist +and professor of law in the university of Bourges (d. 1590). His only +daughter, Susanna, became known by her profligate life. But the stories +told of her by Catherinot cannot have happened during her father's +lifetime, as he died when she was only three years old. + +_Page_ 43--Palsgrave Frederic married the Princess Elizabeth, daughter +of James the First of England, in 1613. He was afterwards made king of +Bohemia by the Protestant princes of Germany, and moved to Prague in +1619. In the year following his army was routed near Prague by the +forces of the Catholic League, and he had to fly with his family. + +_Page_ 46.--"Of a young and handsome carpenter." The pastor refers here +to a popular German song, still often sung by students: + + War einst ein jung, jung Zimmergesell, + Der hatte zu bauen ein Schloss, etc. + +It is the story of a young carpenter who built a castle for a Margrave. +During the absence of the latter the Margravine falls in love with the +carpenter. The lovers are afterwards surprised by the Margrave, who has +a gallows built on which the carpenter is hung. + +_Page_ 49.--Clovis (465-511), king of the Franks, was married, while he +was still a heathen, to Clotilde, a Christian princess of Burgundy. +During the battle at Tolbiac (Zuelpich), near Cologne, when sorely +pressed by the enemy, the Allemanni, he vowed to become a Christian, if +he should gain the victory. After routing and subjugating the +Allemanni, the king and many thousands of his people were baptised by +the Bishop of Rheims, on the 23rd of December of the same year (496). + +_Page_ 50.--"Augusta Rauracorum," Colonia Raurica, afterwards called +Augusta Rauracorum, a Roman colony founded in the year 44 B.C., by L. +Munatius Plancus. On the site of the Roman town are now two villages, +Basel-Augst and Kaiser-Augst, the latter a station on the railroad from +Basel to Zurich. Near Basel-Augst the remains of a Roman amphitheatre +and of a temple can still be seen. + +_Page_ 56.--Count Ursus of Glarus had been converted to Christianity by +St. Fridolinus, and, with the consent of his brother Landolph, donated, +a short time before his death, all his estates to the new cloister at +Saekkingen. When Landolph, after the death of his brother refused to +acknowledge his will, Fridolinus was obliged to go to law in order to +make good his claim, and after a long litigation was at last notified +by the government of Glarus that he would not be able to have his +claims settled, unless he could bring the dead Count Ursus himself in +court as a witness. Then, the legend says, Fridolinus went, on the day +appointed for the court, to Glarus, raised Ursus from his grave, and +walked with him to Rankweil (the seat of the court, ten hours from +Glarus), where the count gave testimony in regard to his donation. +Landolph then not only gave up his brother's estates, but added also a +large portion of his own. After that Fridolinus walked back to Glarus +with Count Ursus, and committed him again to his grave. The saint, on +account of this miracle, is visually portrayed in company with the +skeleton of Count Ursus. + +_Page_ 58.--Laufenburg, a town six miles above Saekkingen, and situated +on the beautiful rapids of the Rhine. A tower of the old strong castle +on the Swiss side is still standing. + +_Page_ 59.--Beuggen, a town on the Rhine below Saekkingen. The ancient +building of the Teutonic order is still standing, and is used now by +the Moravians as an institute for children. + +_Page_ 71.--The Wiese, a river coming from the Feldberg and flowing +into the Rhine a little below Basel. The beautiful valley of the clear +rapid river is now much visited, as there is a railroad as far as the +town of Zell. This region has become classic through the poet Hebel, +who wrote in the Allemannic idiom, still generally spoken in this whole +region. At Hausen, the station before Zell, where he was born, a +monument has been erected to him. There is also at Schopfheim, +the station below Hausen, on a hill called Hebelshoehe, a bust +of the poet The women of this region are remarkable for their large +singular-looking caps, to which Scheffel alludes. + +_Page_ 76.--This gravel bank, called Field of Fridolinus, is still seen +in the Rhine, opposite the castle Schoenau. + +_Page_ 80.--Hallau, a village not far from the railroad station +Neuhausen, the stopping-place for visiting the falls of the Rhine. The +red wine grown there is still very celebrated. + + --The Hohe-Randen, a mountain to the north of Schapfhausen. + +_Page_ 85.--Theuerdank, a German poem of the beginning of the 16th +century, written by Melchior Pfinzing, the secretary of the Emperor +Maximilian, who had planned and sketched the poem himself. + +_Page_ 101.--Grenzach, the first German village going from Basel, on +the railroad to Saekkingen and Constanz. It is celebrated for the wine +grown there. + +_Page_ 104.--The Frickthal, in the Swiss canton Aargau, nearly south of +Saekkingen. + +_Page_ 105.--Schinznach, a village in the canton Aargau, much visited +on account of its hot sulphur springs. In the neighbourhood are the +ruins of the castle of Hapsburg, the cradle of the imperial house of +Austria. + +_Page_ 109.--The mountain lake. See note to page 17. + +_Page_ 120.--May drink, or May wine, a favourite drink in Germany for +the spring-time, made by steeping the leaves of woodroof in the light +white wine of the country, and sweetening it with sugar. It is an old +custom prevailing already in the 16th century, when the woodroof was +added to the wine not only to cheer the heart with its fine aroma, but +also for medicinal purposes, as acting on the liver. + +_Page_ 135.--Albbruck, a place above Laufenburg on the Rhine, at the +mouth of the little river Alb, the valley of which is the most +beautiful in the Schwarzwald. Formerly there were here quite important +ironworks. + +_Page_ 151.--"E'en a common Flemish blacksmith." Quentin Massys +(1466-1530), a celebrated Flemish painter, said to have been originally +a blacksmith. While such, he fell in love, and in order to gain the +maiden's consent as well as her father's (who was an artist) he forsook +his trade, devoted himself to painting, and became a great master in +his art. On the tombstone which his admirers placed on his grave a +hundred years after his death, stands the Latin hexameter: + + Connubialis amor ex mulcibre fecit Apellem! + +_Page_ 152.--The Gnome's cave (Die Erdmannshoehle), a stalactite cave +near the village of Hasel (whence the cave is called also Haselhoehle), +between Wehr and Schopfheim. It can be reached from the former by a +walk of half an hour, and is often visited with guides. The first cave, +which one reaches through a low passage, is 13 feet high, the next +contains a small lake. There is also a little river rushing along under +steps, over which one walks. The cave contains, like all caves of this +kind, most fantastic stalactite structures, which popular fancy has +called the organ, the chancel, the skeleton, &c. Some columns when +struck give out tones which sound as thirds. The most interesting part +of the cave is called Die Fuerstengruft (The Prince's Sepulchre), a +large room, 16 feet high, with a stalactite structure resembling a +large coffin. Popular superstition has from times immemorial made this +cave the haunt of gnomes. + +_Page_ 169.--The ancient county of Hauenstein lies between two spurs of +the Feldberg, the eastern one coming down to the town of Waldshut on +the Rhine, the western one to Saekkingen. It is also called Hozzenland +(see note to page 15). The early history of the country is somewhat +obscure until the time of the Emperor Rudolph of Hapsburg, when it +acknowledged the sovereignty of Austria. In the times of the fight for +the German throne between Albrecht of Austria and Adolphe of Nassau, +and between Frederick the Beautiful and Ludwig of Bavaria, when Suabia +was without a duke and Germany without an emperor, the different +villages of the country founded a union (Einung) for their protection. +There is still in existence such a union document drawn up in the year +1433. The entire union was divided into eight smaller ones, each of +which stood under an elected leader (Einungsmeister). All these eight +leaders elected one of their body as speaker (Redmann), who held the +leadership of the entire union. By this the Hauenstein peasants were +greatly protected in their ancient rights; still the oppression of the +Austrian governors (Waldvoegte) often incited revolutions, the most +important of which occurred during the Peasants' War in 1525. Others +lasted from 1589 to 1614, arising from an impost laid on wine. The poet +introduces such a rising here in the course of his story. + +_Page_ 206.--The Fuggers are an Augsburg family, who, by their +linen-trade and weaving, and afterwards by the purchase of mines in +Austria, amassed an enormous fortune, and were raised to the rank of +nobles by the Emperor Maximilian. The family attained their greatest +splendour under the Emperor Charles the Fifth, who, at the time of the +Diet at Augsburg, raised the two brothers then living to the rank of +counts. + +_Page_ 235.--Katzenjammer, literally translated, cats' misery, the +vulgar German expression for the indisposition after a drunken debauch. + +_Page_ 255.--Parcival, written by Wolfram von Eschenbach about the year +1200. Theuerdank, a German poem of the 16th century. See note to page +85. + +_Page_ 277.--"As at Strasburg on the bulwarks." The Swiss soldier +refers here to a popular song: + + Zu Strasburg auf der Schanz, + Da ging mein Trauern an, etc. + +The simple but touching story of a soldier who stands guard on the +bulwarks of Strasburg and hears the Alpine horn blown on the other side +of the Rhine. Seized with home sickness he swims across the Rhine, but +is taken afterwards and shot as a deserter. + +_Page_ 278.--The villa of the Cardinal Borghese, Casa Baldi, near +Olevano, in the Sabine country, is still in existence, and +is now an inn much frequented by artists. It has become celebrated by +Scheffel's humorous song, "Abschied von Olevano" (Farewell to Olevano), +which he wrote on the spot when leaving there after a long sojourn. It +is published in Scheffers collection of songs, "Gaudeamus." + +_Page_ 285.--Cardinal Pietro Ottoboni of Venice, who in 1689 became the +successor of Innocent XI. as Alexander VIII. + + + + + CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS, CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Trumpeter of Saekkingen, by +Joseph Victor von Scheffel + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRUMPETER OF SAeKKINGEN *** + +***** This file should be named 31314.txt or 31314.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/3/1/31314/ + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from scans obtained from The +Internet Archive. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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