Happy the person to whom Mother Nature the right face has given!

She recommends him at all times, he never appears as a stranger, Each one gladly approaches, and each one beside him would linger, If with his face is combined a pleasant and courteous demeanour.

Yes, I a.s.sure you the youth has indeed discover'd a maiden Who the whole of the days of his life will enliven with gladness, And with her womanly strength a.s.sist him at all times and truly.

Thus a perfect body preserves the soul also in pureness, And a vigorous youth of a happy old age gives a.s.surance.

After reflecting a little, the druggist made answer as follows:-- "Yet appearances oft are deceitful. I trust not the outside.

Often, indeed, have I found the truth of the proverb which tells us Ere you share a bushel of salt with a new-found acquaintance, Do not trust him too readily; time will make you more certain How you and he will get on, and whether your friendship is lasting.

Let us then, in the first place, inquire amongst the good people Unto whom the maiden is known, who can tell us about her."

"Well, of a truth I commend your prudence," the pastor continued "Not for ourselves are we wooing! To woo for others is serious."

So they started to meet the worthy magistrate seeing How in the course of his business he was ascending the main street.

And the wise pastor straightway address'd him with foresight as follows "We, by-the-bye, have just seen a girl in the neighbouring garden Under an apple-tree sitting, and clothes for the children preparing, Made of worn calico, which for the purpose was doubtless presented.

We were pleased by her face; she appears to be one of the right sort.

Tell us, what know you about her? We ask from a laudable motive."

When the magistrate came to the garden and peep'd in, exclaimed he "Well do I know her, in truth; for when I told you the story Of that n.o.ble deed which was done by the maiden I spoke of, How she seized on the sword, and defended herself, and the servants, She the heroine was! You can see how active her nature.

But she's as good as she's strong; for her aged kinsman she tended Until the time of his death, for he died overwhelm'd by affliction At the distress of his town, and the danger his goods were exposed to.

Also with mute resignation she bore the grievous affliction Of her betroth'd's sad death, a n.o.ble young man who, incited By the first fire of n.o.ble thoughts to struggle for freedom, Went himself to Paris, and soon found a terrible death there.

For, as at home, so there, he fought 'gainst intrigue and oppression."

Thus the magistrate spoke. The others departed and thanked him, And the pastor produced a gold piece (the silver his purse held He some hours before had with genuine kindness expended When he saw the fugitives pa.s.sing in sorrowful ma.s.ses).

And to the magistrate handed it, saying:--" Divide it, I pray you, 'Mongst those who need it the most. May G.o.d give it prosperous increase."

But the man refused to accept it, and said:--"I a.s.sure you, Many a dollar we've saved, and plenty of clothing and such things, And I trust we may reach our homes before they are finish'd."

Then continued the pastor, the gold in his hand once more placing "None should delay to give in days like the present, and no one Ought to refuse to receive what is offer'd with liberal kindness.

No one can tell how long he will keep what in peace he possesses, No one, how long he is doom'd in foreign countries to wander, While he's deprived of the field and the garden by which he is nurtured."

"Bravo!" added in turn the druggist, with eagerness speaking "Had I but money to spare in my pocket, you surely should have it, Silver and gold alike; for your followers certainly need it.

Yet I'll not leave you without a present, if only to show you My good will, and I hope you will take the will for the action."

Thus he spoke, and pull'd out by the strings the leather embroider'd Pouch, in which he was wont his stock of tobacco to carry, Daintily open'd and shared its contents--some two or three pipes' full.

"Small in truth is the gift," he added. The magistrate answered: "Good tobacco is always a welcome present to trav'llers."

Then the druggist began his canister to praise very highly.

But the pastor drew him away, and the magistrate left them.

"Come, let us hasten!" exclaimed the sensible man, "for our young friend Anxiously waits; without further delay let him hear the good tidings."

So they hasten'd and came, and found that the youngster was leaning 'Gainst his carriage under the lime-trees. The horses were pawing Wildly the turf; he held them in check and stood there all pensive, Silently gazing in front, and saw not his friends coming near him, Till, as they came, they called him and gave him signals of triumph.

Some way off the druggist already began to address him, But they approach'd the youth still nearer, and then the good pastor Seized his hand and spoke and took the word from his comrade "Friend, I wish you joy! Your eye so true and your true heart Rightly have chosen! May you and the wife of your young days be happy!

She is full worthy of you; so come and turn around the carriage, That we may reach without delay the end of the village, So as to woo her, and shortly escort the dear creature home with us."

But the youth stood still, and without any token of pleasure Heard the words of the envoy, though sounding consoling and heav'nly, Deeply sigh'd and said:--"We came full speed in the carriage And shall probably go back home ashamed and but slowly; For, since I have been waiting care has fallen upon me, Doubt and suspicion and all that a heart full of love is exposed to.

Do you suppose we have only to come, for the maiden to follow, Just because we are rich, and she poor and wandering in exile?

Poverty, when undeserved, itself makes proud. The fair maiden Seems to be active and frugal; the world she may claim as her portion.

Do you suppose that a woman of such great beauty and manners Can have grown up without exciting love in man's bosom?

Do you suppose that her heart until now has to love been fast closed?

Do not drive thither in haste, for perchance to our shame and confusion We shall have slowly to turn towards home the heads of our horses.

Yes, some youth, I fear me, possesses her heart, and already She has doubtless promised her hand and her solemn troth plighted, And I shall stand all ashamed before her, When making my offer."

Then the pastor proceeded to cheer him with words of good comfort, But his companion broke in, in his usual talkative manner "As things used to be, this embarra.s.sment would not have happened, When each matter was brought to a close in an orthodox fashion.

Then for their son themselves the bride the parents selected, And a friend of the house was secretly call'd in the first place.

He was then quietly sent as a suitor to visit the parents Of the selected bride; and, dress'd in his gayest apparel, Went after dinner some Sunday to visit the excellent burgher, And began by exchanging polite remarks on all subjects, Cleverly turning and bending the talk in the proper direction.

After long beating about the bush, he flatter'd the daughter, And spoke well of the man and the house that gave his commission.

Sensible people soon saw his drift, and the sensible envoy Watch'd how the notion was taken, and then could explain himself farther.

If they declined the proposal, why then the refusal cost nothing, But if all prosper'd, why then the suitor for ever thereafter Play'd the first fiddle at every family feast and rejoicing.

For the married couple remember'd the whole of their lifetime Whose was the skilful hand by which the marriage knot tied was.

All this now is chang'd, and with many an excellent custom Has gone quite out of fashion. Each person woos for himself now.

Everyone now must bear the weight of a maiden's refusal On his own shoulders, and stand all ashamed before her, if needs be."

"Let that be as it may," then answered the young man who scarcely Heard what was said, and his mind had made up already in silence "I will go myself, and out of the mouth of the maiden Learn my own fate, for towards her I cherish the most trustful feelings That any man ever cherish'd towards any woman whatever.

That which she says will be good and sensible,--this I am sure of.

If I am never to see her again, I must once more behold her, And the ingenuous gaze of her black eyes must meet for the last time.

If to my heart I may clasp her never, her bosom and shoulders I would once more see, which my arm so longs to encircle: Once more the mouth I would see, from which one kiss and a Yes will Make me happy for ever, a No for ever undo me.

But now leave me alone! Wait here no longer. Return you Straight to my father and mother, in order to tell them in person That their son was right, and that the maiden is worthy.

And so leave me alone! I myself shall return by the footpath Over the hill by the pear-tree and then descend through the vineyard, Which is the shortest way back. Oh may I soon with rejoicing Take the beloved one home! But perchance all alone I must slink back By that path to our house and tread it no more with a light heart."

Thus he spoke, and then placed the reins in the hands of the pastor, Who, in a knowing way both the foaming horses restraining, Nimbly mounted the carriage, and took the seat of the driver.

But you still delay'd, good cautious neighbour, and spoke thus Friend, I will gladly entrust to you soul, and spirit, and mind too, But my body and bones are not preserved in the best way When the hand of a parson such worldly matters as reins grasps!"

But you smiled in return, you sensible pastor, replying "Pray jump in, nor fear with both body and spirit to trust me, For this hand to hold the reins has long been accustom'd, And these eyes are train'd to turn the corner with prudence.

For we were wont to drive the carriage, when living at Strasburg, At the time when with the young baron I went there, for daily, Driven by me, through the echoing gateway thunder'd the carriage By the dusty roads to distant meadows and lindens, Through the crowds of the people who spend their lifetime in walking."

Partially comforted, then his neighbour mounted the carriage, Sitting like one prepared to make a wise jump, if needs be, And the stallions, eager to reach their stables, coursed homewards, While beneath their powerful hoofs the dust rose in thick clouds.

Long there stood the youth, and saw the dust rise before him, Saw the dust disperse; but still he stood there, unthinking.

----- VII. ERATO.

DOROTHEA.

As the man on a journey, who, just at the moment of sunset, Fixes his gaze once more on the rapidly vanishing planet, Then on the side of the rocks and in the dark thicket still sees he Hov'ring its image; wherever he turns his looks, on in front still Runs it, and glitters and wavers before him in colours all splendid, So before Hermanns eyes did the beautiful form of the maiden Softly move, and appear'd to follow the path through the cornfields.

But he roused himself up from his startling dream, and then slowly Turn'd tow'rd the village his steps, and once more started,--for once more Saw he the n.o.ble maiden's stately figure approaching.

Fixedly gazed he; it was no phantom in truth; she herself 'twas In her hands by the handle she carried two pitchers,--one larger, One of a smaller size, and nimbly walk'd to the fountain.

And he joyfully went to meet her; the sight of her gave him Courage and strength, and so he address'd the surprised one as follows:-- "Do I find you again, brave maiden, engaged in a.s.sisting Others so soon, and in giving refreshment to those who may need it?

Tell me why you have come all alone to the spring so far distant, Whilst the rest are content with the water that's found in the village?

This one, indeed, special virtue possesses, and pleasant to drink is.

Is't for the sake of that sick one you come, whom you saved with such courage?"

Then the good maiden the youth in friendly fashion saluted, Saying:--"Already my walk to the fountain is fully rewarded, Since I have found the kind person who gave us so many good presents; For the sight of a giver, like that of a gift, is refreshing.

Come and see for yourself the persons who tasted your kindness, And receive the tranquil thanks of all you have aided.

But that you may know the reason why I have come here, Water to draw at a spot where the spring is both pure and unceasing, I must inform you that thoughtless men have disturb'd all the water Found in the village, by carelessly letting the horses and oxen Wade about in the spring which give the inhabitants water.

In the same manner, with all their washing and cleaning they've dirtied All the troughs of the village, and all the fountains have sullied.

For each one of them only thinks how quickly and soon he May supply his own wants, and cares not for those who come after."

Thus she spoke, and soon she arrived at the foot of the broad steps With her companion, and both of them sat themselves down on the low wall Round the spring. She bent herself over, to draw out the water, He the other pitcher took up, and bent himself over, And in the blue of the heavens they saw their figures reflected, Waving, and nodding, and in the mirror their greetings exchanging.

"Now let me drink," exclaim'd the youth in accents of gladness.

And she gave him the pitcher. They then, like old friends, sat together, Leaning against the vessels, when she address'd him as follows "Say, why find I you here without your carriage and horses, Far from the place where first I saw you. Pray how came you hither?"

Hermann thoughtfully gazed on the ground, but presently lifted Calmly towards her his glances, and gazed on her face in kind fashion, Feeling quite calm and composed. And yet with love to address her Found he quite out of the question; for love from her eyes was not beaming, But an intellect clear, which bade him use sensible language.

Soon he collected his thoughts, and quietly said to the maiden:-- "Let me speak, my child, and let me answer your questions.

"'Tis for your sake alone I have come,--why seek to conceal it?

For I happily live with two affectionate parents, Whom I faithfully help to look after our house and possessions, Being an only son, while numerous are our employments.