Long sat the excellent couple under the doorway, exchanging Many a pa.s.sing remark on the people who happen'd to pa.s.s them.

Presently thus to her husband exclaim'd the good-natured hostess "See! Yon comes the minister; with him is walking the druggist: They'll be able to give an account of all that has happen'd, What they witness'd, and many a sight I fear which was painful."

Both of them came in a friendly manner, and greeted the couple, Taking their seats on the wooden benches under the doorway, Shaking the dust from their feet, their handkerchiefs using to fan them.

Presently, after exchanging reciprocal greetings, the druggist Open'd his mouth, and almost peevishly vented his feelings "What strange creatures men are! They all resemble each other, All take pleasure in staring, when troubles fall on their neighbours.

Ev'ry one runs to see the flames destroying a dwelling, Or a poor criminal led in terror and shame to the scaffold.

All the town has been out to gaze at the sorrowing exiles, None of them bearing in mind that a like misfortune hereafter, Possibly almost directly, may happen to be their own portion.

I can't pardon such levity; yet 'tis the nature of all men."

Thereupon rejoin'd the n.o.ble and excellent pastor, He, the charm of the town, in age scarce more than a stripling:-- (He was acquainted with life, and knew the wants of his hearers, Fully convinced of the worth of the Holy Scriptures, whose mission Is to reveal man's fate, his inclinations to fathom; He was also well read in the best of secular writings.) "I don't like to find fault with any innocent impulse Which in the mind of man Dame Nature has ever implanted; For what reason and intellect ne'er could accomplish, is often Done by some fortunate, quite irresistible instinct within him.

If mankind were never by curiosity driven, Say, could they e'er have found out for themselves the wonderful manner Things in the world range in order? For first they Novelty look for, Then with untiring industry seek to discover the Useful, Lastly they yearn for the Good, which makes them n.o.ble and worthy.

All through their youth frivolity serves as their joyous companion, Hiding the presence of danger, and. swiftly effacing the traces Caused by misfortune and grief, as soon as their onslaught is over.

Truly the man's to be praised who, as years roll onward, develops Out of such glad disposition an intellect settled and steady,-- Who, in good fortune as well as misfortune, strives zealously, n.o.bly; For what is Good he brings forth, replacing whatever is injured."

Then in a friendly voice impatiently spoke thus the hostess:-- "Tell us what have you seen; I am eagerly longing to hear it."

Then with emphasis answer'd the druggist:--" The terrible stories Told me to-day will serve for a long time to make me unhappy.

Words would fail to describe the manifold pictures of mis'ry.

Far in the distance saw we the dust, before we descended Down to the meadows; the rising hillocks hid the procession Long from our eyes, and little could we distinguish about it.

When, however, we reach'd the road that winds thro' the valley, Great was the crowd and the noise of the emigrants mix'd with the waggons.

We unhappily saw poor fellows pa.s.sing in numbers, Some of them showing how bitter the sense of their sorrowful flight was, Some with a feeling of joy at saving their lives in a hurry.

Sad was the sight of the manifold goods and chattels pertaining Unto a well-managed house, which the careful owner's accustom'd Each in its proper position to place, and in regular order, Always ready for use, for all are wanted and useful.-- Sad was the sight of them now, on many a waggon and barrow Heap'd in thorough confusion, and hurriedly huddled together.

Over a cupboard was placed a sieve and a coverlet woollen; Beds in the kneeding troughs lay, and linen over the gla.s.ses.

Ah! and the danger appear'd to rob the men of their senses, Just as in our great fire of twenty years ago happen'd, When what was worthless they saved, and left all the best things behind them.

So on the present occasion with heedless caution they carried Many valueless chattels, o'erlading the cattle and horses,-- Common old boards and barrels, a birdcage next to a goosepen.

Women and children were gasping beneath the weight of their bundles, Baskets and tubs full of utterly useless articles, bearing.

(Man is always unwilling the least of his goods to abandon.) Thus on its dusty way advanced the crowded procession, All in hopeless confusion. First one, whose cattle were weaker, Fain would slowly advance, while others would eagerly hasten.

Then there arose a scream of half-crush'd women and children, And a lowing of cattle, with yelping of dogs intermingled, And a wailing of aged and sick, all sitting and shaking, Ranged in their beds on the top of the waggon too-heavily laden.

Next some lumbering wheel, push'd out of the track by the pressure, Went to the edge of the roadway; the vehicle fell in the ditch then, Rolling right over, and throwing, in falling, the men who were in it Far in the field, screaming loudly, their persons however uninjured.

Then the boxes roll'd off and tumbled close to the waggon.

Those who saw them failing full surely expected to see them Smash'd to pieces beneath the weight of the chests and the presses.

So the waggon lay broken, and those that it carried were helpless, For the rest of the train went on, and hurriedly pa.s.s'd them, Thinking only of self, and carried away by the current.

So we sped to the spot, and found the sick and the aged Who, when at home and in bed, could scarcely endure their sad ailments, Lying there on the ground, all sighing and groaning in anguish, Stifled by clouds of dust, and scorch'd by the fierce sun of summer.

Then replied in tones of compa.s.sion the sensitive landlord Hermann I trust will find them and give them refreshment and clothing.

I should unwillingly see them: I grieve at the eight of such sorrow.

Touch'd by the earliest news of the sad extent of the suffering, Hastily sent we a trifle from out of our superabundance, Just to comfort a few, and then our minds were more easy.

Now let us cease to discourse on such a sorrowful subject, For men's hearts are easily overshadow'd by terror, And by care, more odious far to me than misfortune.

Now let us go to a cooler place, the little back-parlour; There the sun never shines, and the walls are so thick that the hot air Never can enter; and mother shall forthwith bring us a gla.s.s each Full of fine Eighty-three, well fitted to drive away trouble.

This is a bad place for drinking; the flies will hum round the gla.s.ses."

So they all went inside, enjoying themselves in the coolness.

Then in a well-cut flask the mother carefully brought them Some of that clear good wine, upon a bright metal waiter With those greenish rummers, the fittingest goblets for Rhine wine.

So the three sat together, around the glistening polish'd Circular large brown table--on ma.s.sive feet it was planted.

Merrily clink'd together the gla.s.ses of host and of pastor, But the other one thoughtfully held his gla.s.s without moving, And in friendly fashion the host thus ask'd him to join them:--

"Drink, good neighbour, I pray! A merciful G.o.d has protected Us in the past from misfortune, and will protect us in future.

All must confess that since He thought fit to severely chastise us, When that terrible fire occurr'd, He has constantly bless'd us.

And watch'd over us constantly, just as man is accustom'd His eye's precious apple to guard, that dearest of members.

Shall He not for the future preserve us, and be our Protector?

For 'tis in danger we learn to appreciate duly His Goodness.

This so flourishing town, which He built again from its ashes By the industrious hands of its burghers, and bless'd it so richly, Will He again destroy it, and render their toil unavailing?"

Cheerfully answer'd the excellent pastor, in accents of mildness "Steadfastly cling to this faith, and cherish such worthy opinions; In good fortune they'll make you prudent, and then in misfortune Well-grounded hopes they'll supply, and furnish you true consolation."

Then continued the host, with thoughts full of manhood and wisdom "Oft have I greeted with wonder the rolling flood of the Rhine stream, When, on my business trav'lling, I've once more come to its borders.

Grand has it ever appear'd, exalting my feelings and senses; But I could never imagine that soon its beautiful margin Into a wall would be turn'd, to keep the French from our country, And its wide-spreading bed a ditch to hinder and check them.

So by Nature we're guarded, we're guarded by valorous Germans, And by the Lord we're guarded; who then would foolishly tremble?

Weary the combatants are, and all things indicate peace soon; And when at length the long-expected festival's holden Here in our church, and the bells chime in with the organ in chorus, And the trumpets are blowing, the n.o.ble Te Deum upraising, Then on that selfsame day I fain would see, my good pastor, Our dear Hermann kneel with his bride at the altar before you, And the glad festival held through the length and breadth of the country Will henceforward to me be a glad anniversary also!

But I am grieved to observe that the youth, who is always so active When he is here at home, abroad is so slow and so timid.

Little at any time cares he to mix with the rest of the people; Yes, he even avoids young maidens' society ever, And the frolicsome dance, that great delight of young people."

Thus he spake, and then listen'd. The sound of the stamping of horses Drawing nearer was heard; and then the roll of the carriage, Which, with impetuous speed, now thunder'd under the gateway.

----- II. TERPSICh.o.r.e.

HERMANN.

THEN when into the room the well-built son made his entry, Straightway with piercing glances the minister eyed him intently, And with carefulness watch'd his looks and the whole of his bearing, With an inquiring eye which easily faces decyphers; Then he smiled, and with cordial words address'd him as follows "How you are changed in appearance, my friend! I never have seen you Half so lively before; your looks are thoroughly cheerful.

You have return'd quite joyous and merry. You've doubtless divided All of the presents amongst the poor, their blessings receiving."

Then in calm accents replied the son, with gravity speaking "Whether I've laudably acted, I know not; I follow'd the impulse Of my own heart, as now I'll proceed to describe with exactness.

Mother, you rummaged so long, in looking over old pieces, And in making your choice, that 'twas late when the bundle was ready, And the wine and the beer were slowly and carefully pack'd up.

When I at length emerged at the gate, and came on the highway, Streams of citizens met I returning, with women and children, For the train of the exiles had long disappear'd in the distance.

So I quicken'd my pace, and hastily drove to the village Where I had heard that to-night to rest and to sleep they intended.

Well, as I went on my way, the newly-made causeway ascending, Suddenly saw I a waggon, of excellent timber constructed, Drawn by a couple of oxen, the best and the strongest of foreign.

Close beside it there walk'd, with st.u.r.dy footsteps, a maiden, Guiding the two strong beasts with a long kind of staff, which with skill she Knew how to use, now driving, and now restraining their progress.

When the maiden observed me, she quietly came near the horses, And address'd me as follows:--'Our usual condition, believe me, Is not so sad as perchance you might judge from our present appearance.

I am not yet accustom'd to ask for alms from a stranger, Who so often but gives, to rid himself of a beggar.

But I'm compell'd to speak by necessity. Here on the straw now Lies the lately-confined poor wife of a wealthy landowner, Whom with much trouble I managed to save with oxen and waggon.

We were late in arriving, and scarcely with life she escaped.

Now the newly-born child in her arms is lying, all naked, And our friends will be able to give them but little a.s.sistance, E'en if in the next village, to which to-night we are going, We should still find them, although I fear they have left it already.

If you belong to the neighbourhood, any available linen These poor people will deem a most acceptable present.

"Thus she spake, and wearily raised herself the pale patient Up from the straw and gazed upon me, while thus I made answer 'Oft doth a heavenly spirit whisper to kind-hearted people, So that they feel the distress o'er their poorer brethren impending; For my mother, your troubles foreboding, gave me a bundle Ready prepared for relieving the wants of those who were naked.'

Then I loosen'd the knots of the cord, and the dressing-gown gave her Which belong'd to my father, and gave her some shirts and some linen, And she thank'd me with joy and said:--'The fortunate know not How 'tis that miracles happen; we only discover in sorrow G.o.d's protecting finger and hand, extended to beckon Good men to good. May your kindness to us by Him be requited.'

And I saw the poor patient joyfully handling the linen, Valuing most of all the soft flannel, the dressing-gown lining.

Then the maid thus address'd her:--'Now let us haste to the village Where our friends are resting, to-night intending to sleep there There I will straightway attend to what e'er for the infant is needed.'

Then she saluted me too, her thanks most heartily giving, Drove the oxen, the waggon went on. I lingerd behind them, Holding my horses rein'd back, divided between two opinions, Whether to hasten ahead, reach the village, the viands distribute 'Mongst the rest of the people, or give them forthwith to the maiden, So that she might herself divide them amongst them with prudence Soon I made up my mind, and follow'd after her softly, Overtook her without delay, and said to her quickly 'Maiden, it was not linen alone that my mother provided And in the carriage placed, as clothing to give to the naked, But she added meat, and many an excellent drink too; And I have got quite a stock stow'd away in the boot of the carriage.

Well, I have taken a fancy the rest of the gifts to deposit In your hands, and thus fulfil to the best my commission; You will divide them with prudence, whilst I my fate am obeying.'

Then the maiden replied:--'With faithfulness I will distribute All your gifts, and the needy shall surely rejoice at your bounty.'

Thus she spake, and I hastily open'd the boot of the carriage, Took out the hams (full heavy they were) and took out the bread-stuffs, Flasks of wine and beer, and handed the whole of them over.

Gladly would I have given her more, but empty the boot was.

Straightway she pack'd them away at the feet of the patient, and forthwith Started again, whilst I hasten'd back to the town with my horses."

Then when Hermann had ended his story, the garrulous neighbour Open'd his mouth and exclaim'd:--"I only deem the man happy Who lives alone in his house in these days of flight and confusion, Who has neither wife nor children cringing beside him I feel happy at present; I hate the t.i.tle of father; Care of children and wife in these days would be a sad drawback.

Often have I bethought me of flight, and have gather'd together All that I deem most precious, the antique gold and the jewels Worn by my late dear mother, not one of which has been sold yet.

Much indeed is left out, that is not so easily carried.

Even the herbs and the roots, collected with plenty of trouble, I should he sorry to lose, though little in value they may be.

If the dispenser remains, I shall leave my house in good spirits If my ready money is saved, and my body, why truly All is saved, for a bachelor easily flies when 'tis needed."

"Neighbour," rejoin'd forthwith young Hermann, with emphasis speaking "Altogether I differ, and greatly blame your opinions.

Can that man be deem'd worthy, who both in good and ill fortune Thinks alone of himself, and knows not the secret of sharing Sorrows and joys with others, and feels no longing to do so?