The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 01

CLIO

THE AGENow when the foreign judge had been by the minister questionedAs to his people's distress, and how long their exile had lasted,Thus made answer the man: "Of no recent date are our sorrows;Since of the gathering bitter of years our people have drunken,—Bitterness all the more dreadful because such fair hope had been blighted.Who will pretend to deny that his heart swelled high in his bosom,And that his freer breast with purer pulses was beating,When we beheld the new sun arise in his earliest splendor,When of the rights of men we heard, which to all should be common,Were of a righteous equality told, and inspiriting freedom?Every one hoped that then he should live his own life, and the fetters,Binding the various lands, appeared their hold to be loosing,—Fetters that had in the hand of sloth been held and self-seeking.Looked not the eyes of all nations, throughout that calamitous season,Toward the world's capital city, for so it had long been considered,And of that glorious title was now, more than ever, deserving?Were not the names of those men who first delivered the message,Names to compare with the highest that under the heavens are spoken?Did not, in every man, grow courage and spirit and language?And, as neighbors, we, first of all, were zealously kindled.Thereupon followed the war, and armèd bodies of FrenchmenPressed to us nearer; yet nothing but friendship they seemed to bebringing;Ay, and they brought it too; for exalted the spirit within them:They with rejoicing the festive trees of liberty planted,Promising every man what was his own, and to each his own ruling.High beat the heart of the youths, and even the aged were joyful;Gaily the dance began about the newly raised standard.Thus had they speedily won, these overmastering Frenchmen,First the spirits of men by the fire and dash of their bearing,Then the hearts of the women with irresistible graces.Even the pressure of hungry war seemed to weigh on us lightly,So before our vision did hope hang over the future,Luring our eyes abroad into newly opening pathways.Oh, how joyful the time when with her beloved the maidenWhirls in the dance, the longed-for day of their union awaiting!But more glorious that day on which to our vision the highestHeart of man can conceive seemed near and attainable to us.Loosened was every tongue, and men—the aged, the stripling—Spoke aloud in words that were full of high feeling and wisdom.Soon, however, the sky was o'ercast. A corrupt generationFought for the right of dominion, unworthy the good to establish;So that they slew one another, their new-made neighbors and brothersHeld in subjection, and then sent the self-seeking masses against us.Chiefs committed excesses and wholesale plunder upon us,While those lower plundered and rioted down to the lowest:Every one seemed but to care that something be left for the morrow.Great past endurance the need, and daily grew the oppression:They were the lords of the day; there was none to hear our complaining.Then fell trouble and rage upon even the quietest spirit.One thought only had all, and swore for their wrongs to have vengeance,And for the bitter loss of their hope thus doubly deluded.Presently Fortune turned and declared on the side of the German,And with hurried marches the French retreated before us.Ah! then as never before did we feel the sad fortunes of warfare:He that is victor is great and good,—or at least he appears so,—And he, as one of his own, will spare the man he has conquered,Him whose service he daily needs, and whose property uses.But no law the fugitive knows, save of self-preservation,And, with a reckless greed, consumes all the possessions about him;Then are his passions also inflamed: the despair that is in himOut of his heart breaks forth, and takes shape in criminal action.Nothing is further held sacred; but all is for plunder. His cravingTurns in fury on woman, and pleasure is changed into horror.Death he sees everywhere round him, and madly enjoys his last moments,Taking delight in blood, in the shriekings of anguish exulting.Thereupon fiercely arose in our men the stern resolutionWhat had been lost to avenge, and defend what'er was remaining.Every man sprang to his arms, by the flight of the foeman encouraged,And by his blanching cheeks, and his timorous, wavering glances.Ceaselessly now rang out the clanging peal of the tocsin.Thought of no danger to come restrained their furious anger.Quick into weapons of war the husbandman's peaceful utensilsAll were converted; dripped with blood the scythe and the ploughshare.Quarter was shown to none: the enemy fell without mercy.Fury everywhere raged and the cowardly cunning of weakness.Ne'er may I men so carried away by injurious passionSee again! the sight of the raging wild beast would be better.Let not man prattle of freedom, as if himself he could govern!Soon as the barriers are torn away, then all of the evilSeems let loose, that by law had been driven deep back into corners.""Excellent man!" thereupon with emphasis answered the pastor:"Though thou misjudgest mankind, yet can I not censure thee for it.Evil enough, I confess, thou hast had to endure from man's passions.Yet wouldst thou look behind over this calamitous season,Thou wouldst acknowledge thyself how much good thou also hast witnessed.How many excellent things that would in the heart have lain hidden,Had not danger aroused them, and did not necessity's pressureBring forth the angel in man, and make him a god of deliv'rance."Thereupon answered and said the reverend magistrate, smiling:"There thou remindest me aptly of how we console the poor fellow,After his house has been burned, by recounting the gold and the silverMelted and scattered abroad in the rubbish, that still is remaining.Little enough, it is true; but even that little is precious.Then will the poor wretch after it dig and rejoice if he find it.Thus I likewise with happier thoughts will gratefully turn meToward the few beautiful deeds of which I preserve the remembrance.Yes, I will not deny, I have seen old quarrels forgotten,Ill to avert from the state; I also have witnessed how friendship,Love of parent and child, can impossibilities venture;Seen how the stripling at once matured into man; how the agedGrew again young; and even the child into youth was developed,Yea, and the weaker sex too, as we are accustomed to call it,Showed itself brave and strong and ready for every emergence.Foremost among them all, one beautiful deed let me mention,Bravely performed by the hand of a girl, an excellent maiden,Who, with those younger than she, had been left in charge of a farmhouse,Since there, also, the men had marched against the invader.Suddenly fell on the house a fugitive band of marauders,Eager for booty, who crowded straightway to the room of the women.There they beheld the beautiful form of the fully grown maiden,Looked on the charming young girls, who rather might still be calledchildren.Savage desire possessed them; at once with merciless passionThey that trembling band assailed and the high-hearted maiden.But she had snatched in an instant the sword of one from its scabbard,Felled him with might to the ground, and stretched him bleeding before her.Then with vigorous strokes she bravely delivered the maidens,Smiting yet four of the robbers; who saved themselves only by flying.Then she bolted the gates, and, armed, awaited assistance."Now when this praise the minister heard bestowed on the maiden,Rose straightway for his friend a feeling of hope in his bosom,And he had opened his lips to inquire what further befell her,If on this mournful flight she now with her people were present;When with a hasty step the village doctor approached them,Twitched the clergyman's coat, and said in his ear in a whisper:"I have discovered the maiden at last among several hundreds;By the description I knew her, so come, let thine own eyes behold her!Bring too the magistrate with thee, that so we may hear him yet further."But as they turned to go, the justice was summoned to leave them,Sent for by some of his people by whom his counsel was needed.Straightway the preacher, however, the lead of the doctor had followedUp to a gap in the fence where his finger he meaningly pointed."Seest thou the maiden?" he said: "she has made some clothes for the babyOut of the well-known chintz,—I distinguish it plainly; and furtherThere are the covers of blue that Hermann gave in his bundle.Well and quickly, forsooth, she has turned to advantage the presents.Evident tokens are these, and all else answers well the description.Mark how the stomacher's scarlet sets off the arch of her bosom,Prettily laced, and the bodice of black fits close to her figure;Neatly the edge of her kerchief is plaited into a ruffle,Which, with a simple grace, her chin's rounded outline encircles;Freely and lightly rises above it the head's dainty oval,And her luxuriant hair over silver bodkins is braided.Now she is sitting, yet still we behold her majestical stature,And the blue petticoat's ample plaits, that down from her bosomHangs in abundant folds about her neatly shaped ankles,She without question it is; come, therefore, and let us discoverWhether she honest and virtuous be, a housewifely maiden."Then, as the seated figure he studied, the pastor made answer:"Truly, I find it no wonder that she so enchanted the stripling,Since, to a man's experienced eye, she seems lacking in nothing.Happy to whom mother Nature a shape harmonious has given!Such will always commend him, and he can be nowhere a stranger.All approach with delight, and all are delighted to linger,If to the outward shape correspond but a courteous spirit.I can assure thee, in her the youth has found him a maiden,Who, in the days to come, his life shall gloriously brighten,Standing with womanly strength in every necessity by him.Surely the soul must be pure that inhabits a body so perfect,And of a happy old age such vigorous youth is the promise."Thereupon answered and said the doctor in language of caution:"Often appearances cheat; I like not to trust to externals.For I have oft seen put to the test the truth of the proverb:Till thou a bushel of salt with a new acquaintance hast eaten,Be not too ready to trust him; for time alone renders thee certainHow ye shall fare with each other, and how well your friendship shallprosper.Let us then rather at first make inquiries among the good peopleBy whom the maiden is known, and who can inform us about her.""Much I approve of thy caution," the preacher replied as he followed."Not for ourselves is the suit, and 'tis delicate wooing for others."Toward the good magistrate, then, the men directed their footsteps,Who was again ascending the street in discharge of his duties.Him the judicious pastor at once addressed and with caution."Look! we a maiden have here descried in the neighboring garden,Under an apple-tree sitting, and making up garments for childrenOut of second-hand stuff that somebody doubtless has given;And we were pleased with her aspect: she seems like a girl to be trusted.Tell us whatever thou knowest: we ask it with honest intentions."Soon as the magistrate nearer had come, and looked into the garden,"Her thou knowest already," he said; "for when I was tellingOf the heroic deed performed by the hand of that maiden,When she snatched the man's sword, and delivered herself and her charges,This was the one! she is vigorous born, as thou seest by her stature;Yet she is good as strong, for her aged kinsman she tendedUntil the day of his death, which was finally hastened by sorrowOver his city's distress, and his own endangered possessions.Also, with quiet submission, she bore the death of her lover,Who a high-spirited youth, in the earliest flush of excitement,Kindled by lofty resolve to fight for a glorious freedom,Hurried to Paris, where early a terrible death he encountered.For as at home, so there, his foes were deceit and oppression."Thus the magistrate spoke. The others saluted and thanked him,And from his purse a gold-piece the pastor drew forth;—for the silverHe had some hours before already in charity given,When he in mournful groups had seen the poor fugitives passing;—And to the magistrate handed it, saying: "Apportion the money'Mongst thy destitute people, and God vouchsafe it an increase."But the stranger declined it, and, answering, said: "We have rescuedMany a dollar among us, with clothing and other possessions,And shall return, as I hope, ere yet our stock is exhausted."Then the pastor replied, and pressed the money upon him:"None should be backward in giving in days like the present, and no oneOught to refuse to accept those gifts which in kindness are offered.None can tell how long he may hold what in peace he possesses,None how much longer yet he shall roam through the land of the stranger,And of his farm be deprived, and deprived of the garden that feeds him.""Ay, to be sure!" in his bustling way interrupted the doctor:"If I had only some money about me, ye surely should have it,Little and big; for certainly many among you must need it.Yet I'll not go without giving thee something to show what my will is,Even though sadly behind my good-will must lag the performance."Thus, as he spoke, by its straps his embroidered pocket of leather,Where his tobacco was kept, he drew forth,-enough was now in itSeveral pipes to fill,—and daintily opened, and portioned."Small is the gift," he added. The justice, however, made answer:"Good tobacco can ne'er to the traveller fail to be welcome."Then did the village doctor begin to praise his canaster.But the clergyman drew him away, and they quitted the justice."Let us make haste," said the thoughtful man: "the youth's waitingin torture;Come! let him hear, as soon as he may, the jubilant tidings."So they hastened their steps, and came to where under the lindensHermann against the carriage was leaning. The horses were stampingWildly the turf; he held them in check, and, buried in musing,Stood, into vacancy gazing before him; nor saw the two envoys,Till, as they came, they called out and made to him signals of triumph.E'en as far off as they then were, the doctor began to address him;But they were presently nearer come and then the good pastorGrasped his hand and exclaimed, interrupting the word of his comrade:"Hail to thee, O young man! thy true eye and heart have well chosen;Joy be to thee and the wife of thy youth; for of thee she is worthy.Come then and turn us the wagon, and drive straightway to the village,There the good maid to woo, and soon bring her home to thy dwelling."Still, however, the young man stood, without sign of rejoicing,Hearing his messenger's words, though heavenly they were and consoling.Deeply he sighed as he said: "With hurrying wheels we came hither,And shall be forced, perchance, to go mortified homeward and slowly.For disquiet has fallen upon me since here I've been waiting,Doubt and suspicion, and all that can torture the heart of a lover.Think ye we have but to come, and that then the maiden will followMerely because we are rich, while she is poor and an exile?Poverty, too, makes proud, when it comes unmerited! ActiveSeems she to be, and contented, and so of the world is she mistress.Think ye a maiden like her, with the manners and beauty that she has,Can into woman have grown, and no worthy man's love have attracted?Think ye that love until now can have been shut out from her bosom?Drive not thither too rashly: we might to our mortificationHave to turn softly homewards our horses' heads. For my fear isThat to some youth already this heart has been given; alreadyThis brave hand has been clasped, has pledged faith to somefortunate lover.Then with my offer, alas! I should stand in confusion before her."Straightway the pastor had opened his lips to speak consolation,When his companion broke in, and said in his voluble fashion:"Years ago, forsooth, unknown had been such a dilemma.All such affairs were then conducted in regular fashion.Soon as a bride for their son had been by the parents selected,First some family friend they into their councils would summon,Whom they afterward sent as a suitor to visit the parentsOf the elected bride. Arrayed in his finest apparel,Soon after dinner on Sunday he sought the respectable burgher,When some friendly words were exchanged upon general subjects,He knowing how to direct the discourse as suited his purpose.After much circumlocution he finally mentioned the daughter,Praising her highly, and praising the man and the house that had sent him.Persons of tact perceived his intent, and the politic envoyReadily saw how their minds were disposed, and explained himself further.Then were the offer declined, e'en the 'no' brought not mortification;But did it meet with success, the suitor was ever thereafterMade the chief guest in the house on every festive occasion.For, through the rest of their lives, the couple ne'er failed to rememberThat 'twas by his experienced hand the first knot had been gathered.All that, however, is changed, and, with many another good custom,Quite fallen out of the fashion; for every man woos for himself now.Therefore let every man hear to his face pronounced the refusal,If a refusal there be, and stand shamed in the sight of the maiden!""Let that be as it may!" made answer the youth, who had scarcelyUnto the words paid heed; but in silence had made his decision."I will go thither myself, will myself hear my destiny spokenOut of the lips of a maiden in whom I a confidence cherishGreater than heart of man has e'er before cherished in woman.Say what she will, 'twill be good and wise; of that I am certain.Should I behold her never again, yet this once will I see her;Yet this once the clear gaze of those dark eyes will encounter.If I must press her ne'er to my heart, yet that neck and that bosomWill I behold once more, that my arm so longs to encircle;Once more that mouth will see, whose kiss and whose 'yes' would for everRender me happy, from which a 'no' will for ever destroy me.But ye must leave me alone. Do not wait for me here; but return yeBack to my father and mother again, and give them the knowledgeThat their son has not been deceived, that the maiden is worthy.So then leave me alone! I shall follow the footpath that crossesOver the hill by the pear-tree, and thence descends through our vineyard,Taking a shorter way home. And oh, may I bring to our dwelling,Joyful and quick my beloved! but perhaps I alone may come creepingOver that path to the house, and ne'er again tread it with gladness."Thus he spoke, and gave up the reins to the hand of the pastor,Who understandingly grasped them, the foaming horses controlling,Speedily mounted the carriage, and sat in the seat of the driver.But thou didst hesitate, provident neighbor, and say in remonstrance:"Heart and soul and spirit, my friend, I willingly trust thee;But as for life and limb, they are not in the safest of keeping,When the temporal reins are usurped by the hand of the clergy."But thou didst laugh at his words, intelligent pastor, and answer:"Sit thee down, and contentedly trust me both body and spirit;For, in holding the reins, my hand grew long ago skilful,Long has my eye been trained in making the nicest of turnings;For we were practised well in driving the carriage in Strasburg,When I the youthful baron accompanied thither; then dailyRolled the carriage, guided by me, through the echoing gateway,Out over dusty roads till we reached the meadows and lindens,Steering through groups of the town's-folk beguiling the day therewith walking."Thereupon, half-reassured, the neighbor ascended the wagon,Sat like one who for a prudent leap is holding him ready,And the stallions sped rapidly homeward, desiring their stable.Clouds of dust whirled up from under their powerful hoof-beats.Long the youth stood there yet, and saw the dust in its rising,Saw the dust as it settled again: he stood there unheeding.

ERATO

DOROTHEALike as the traveller, who, when the sun is approaching its setting,Fixes his eyes on it once again ere quickly it vanish,Then on the sides of the rocks, and on all the darkening bushes,Sees its hovering image; whatever direction he look inThat hastes before, and flickers and gleams in radiant colors,—So before Hermann's eyes moved the beautiful shape of the maidenSoftly, and seeming to follow the path that led into the corn-field.But he aroused from his wildering dream and turned himself slowlyToward where the village lay and was wildered again; for again cameMoving to meet him the lofty form of the glorious maiden.Fixedly gazed he upon her; herself it was and no phantom.Bearing in either hand a larger jar and a smaller,Each by the handle, with busy step she came on to the fountain.Joyfully then he hastened to meet her; the sight of her gave himCourage and strength; and thus the astonished girl he accosted:"Do I then find thee, brave-hearted maiden, so soon again busy,Rendering aid unto others, and happy in bringing them comfort?Say why thou comest alone to this well which lies at such a distance,When all the rest are content with the water they find in the village?This has peculiar virtues, 'tis true; and the taste is delicious.Thou to that mother wouldst bring it, I trow, whom thy faithfulnessrescued."Straightway with cordial greeting the kindly maiden made answer:"Here has my walk to the spring already been amply rewarded,Since I have found the good friend who bestowed so abundantly on us;For a pleasure not less than the gifts is the sight of the giver.Come, I pray thee, and see for thyself who has tasted thy bounty;Come, and the quiet thanks receive of all it has solaced.But that thou straightway the reason may'st know for which I am hitherCome to draw, where pure and unfailing the water is flowing,This I must tell thee,—that all the water we have in the villageHas by improvident people been troubled with horses and oxenWading direct through the source which brings the inhabitants water.And furthermore they have also made foul with their washings and rinsingsAll the troughs of the village, and all the fountains have sullied;For but one thought is in all, and that how to satisfy quickestSelf and the need of the moment, regardless of what may come after."Thus she spoke, and the broad stone steps meanwhile had descendedWith her companion beside her, and on the low wall of the fountainBoth sat them down. She bent herself over to draw, and he alsoTook in his hand the jar that remained, and bent himself over;And in the blue of the heavens, they, seeing their image reflected,Friendly greetings and nods exchanged in the quivering mirror."Give me to drink," the youth thereupon in his gladness petitioned,And she handed the pitcher. Familiarly sat they and rested,Both leaning over their jars, till she presently asked her companion:"Tell me, why I find thee here, and without thy horses and wagon,Far from the place where I met thee at first? How camest thou hither?"Thoughtful he bent his eyes on the ground, then quietly raised themUp to her face, and, meeting with frankness the gaze of the maiden,Felt himself solaced and stilled. But then impossible was it,That he of love should speak; her eye told not of affection,Only of clear understanding, requiring intelligent answer.And he composed himself quickly, and cordially said to the maiden:"Hearken to me, my child, and let me reply to thy question.'Twas for thy sake that hither I came; why seek to conceal it?Know I live happy at home with both my affectionate parents,Faithfully giving my aid their house and estates in directing,Being an only son, and because our affairs are extensive.Mine is the charge of the farm; my father bears rule in the household;While the presiding spirit of all is the diligent mother.But thine experience doubtless has taught thee how grievously servants,Now through deceit, and now through their carelessness, harass themistress,Forcing her ever to change and replace one fault with another.Long for that reason my mother has wished for a maid in the household,Who not with hand alone, but with heart, too, will lend her assistance,Taking the daughter's place, whom alas! she was early deprived of.Now when today by the wagon I saw thee, so ready and cheerful,Witnessed the strength of thine arms, and thy limbs of such healthfulproportion,When thy intelligent speech I heard, I was smitten with wonder.Hastening homeward, I there to my parents and neighbors the strangerPraised as she well deserved. But I now am come hither to tell theeWhat is their wish as mine.—Forgive me my stammering language.""Hesitate not," she, answering, said, "to tell me what follows.Thou dost not give me offence; I have listened with gratitude to thee:Speak it out honestly therefore; the sound of it will not alarm me.Thou wouldst engage me as servant to wait on thy father and mother,And to look after the well-ordered house of which ye are the owners;And thou thinkest in me to find them a capable servant,One who is skilled in her work, and not of a rude disposition.Short thy proposal has been, and short shall be also my answer.Yes, I will go with thee home, and the call of fate I will follow.Here my duty is done: I have brought the newly made motherBack to her kindred again, who are all in her safety rejoicing.Most of our people already are gathered; the others will follow.All think a few days more will certainly see them returningUnto their homes; for such is the exile's constant delusion.But by no easy hope do I suffer myself to be cheatedDuring these sorrowful days which promise yet more days of sorrow.All the bands of the world have been loosed, and what shall unite them,Saving alone the need, the need supreme, that is on us?If in a good man's house I can earn my living by service,Under the eye of an excellent mistress, I gladly will do it;Since of doubtful repute, must be always a wandering maiden.Yes, I will go with thee, soon as I first shall have carried the pitchersBack to my friends, and prayed the good people to give me their blessingCome, thou must see them thyself, and from their hands must receive me."Joyfully hearkened the youth to the willing maiden's decision,Doubtful whether he ought not at once to make honest confession.Yet it appeared to him best to leave her awhile in her error,Nor for her love to sue, before leading her home to his dwelling.Ah! and the golden ring he perceived on the hand of the maiden,Wherefore he let her speak on, and gave diligent ear to her language."Come," she presently said, "Let us back to the village; for maidensAlways are sure to be blamed if they tarry too long at the fountain.Yet how delightful it is to chat by the murmuring water!"Then from their seats they rose, and both of them turned to the fountainOne more look behind, and a tender longing possessed them.Both of the water-jars then in silence she took by the handle,Carried them up the steps, while behind her followed her lover.One of the pitchers he begged her to give him to lighten the burden."Nay, let it be!" she said: "I carry them better so balanced.Nor shall the master, who is to command, be doing me service.Look not so gravely upon me, as thinking my fortune a hard one.Early a woman should learn to serve, for that is her calling;Since through service alone she finally comes to the headship,Comes to the due command that is hers of right in the household.Early the sister must wait on her brother, and wait on her parents;Life must be always with her a perpetual coming and going,Or be a fetching and carrying, making and doing for others.Happy for her be she wonted to think no way is too grievous,And if the hours of the night be to her as the hours of the daytime;If she find never a needle too fine, nor a labor too trifling;Wholly forgetful of self, and caring to live but in others!For she will surely, as mother, have need of every virtue,When, in the time of her illness, the cries of her infant arouse herCalling for food from her weakness, and cares are to suffering added.Twenty men bound into one were not able to bear such a burden;Nor is it meant that they should, yet should they with gratitude view it."Thus she spoke, and was come, meanwhile, with her silent companion,Far as the floor of the barn, at the furthermost end of the garden,Where was the sick woman lying, whom, glad, she had left with herdaughters,Those late rescued maidens: fair pictures of innocence were they.Both of them entered the barn; and, e'en as they did so, the justice,Leading a child in each hand, came in from the other direction.These had been lost, hitherto, from the sight of their sorrowing mother;But in the midst of the crowd the old man now had descried them.Joyfully sprang they forward to meet their dear mother's embraces,And to salute with delight their brother, their unknown companion.Next upon Dorothea they sprang with affectionate greeting,Asking for bread and fruit, but more than all else for some water.So then she handed the water about; and not only the childrenDrank, but the sick woman, too, and her daughters, and with themthe justice.All were refreshed, and highly commended the glorious water;Acid it was to the taste, and reviving, and wholesome to drink of.Then with a serious face the maiden replied to them, saying:"Friends, for the last time now to your mouth have I lifted my pitcher;And for the last time by me have your lips been moistened with water.But henceforth in the heat of the day when the draught shall refresh you,When in the shade ye enjoy your rest beside a clear fountain,Think of me then sometimes and of all my affectionate service,Prompted more by my love than the duty I owed you as kindred.I shall acknowledge as long as I live the kindness ye've shown me.'Tis with regret that I leave you; but every one now is a burden,More than a help to his neighbor, and all must be finally scatteredFar through a foreign land, if return to our homes be denied us.See, here stands the youth to whom we owe thanks for the presents.He gave the cloak for the baby, and all these welcome provisions.Now he is come, and has asked me if I will make one in his dwelling,That I may serve therein his wealthy and excellent parents.And I refuse not the offer; for maidens must always be serving;Burdensome were it for them to rest and be served in the household.Therefore I follow him gladly. A youth of intelligence seems he,And so will also the parents be, as becometh the wealthy.So then farewell, dear friend; and may'st thou rejoice in thy nursling,Living, and into thy face already so healthfully looking!When thou shalt press him against thy breast in these gay-coloredwrappings,Oh, then remember the kindly youth who bestowed them upon us,And who me also henceforth, thy sister, will shelter and nourish.Thou, too, excellent man!" she said as she turned to the justice;"Take my thanks that in many a need I have found thee a father."Then she knelt down on the floor by the side of the newly made mother,Kissing the weeping woman, and taking her low-whispered blessing.Thou, meanwhile, worshipful justice, wast speaking to Hermann and saying:"Justly mayst thou, my friend, be counted among the good masters,Careful to manage their household affairs with capable servants.For I have often observed how in sheep, as in horses and oxen,Men conclude never a bargain without making closest inspection,While with a servant who all things preserves, if honest and able,And who will every thing lose and destroy, if he set to work falsely,Him will a chance or an accident make us admit to our dwelling,And we are left, when too late, to repent an o'er hasty decision.Thou understandest the matter it seems; because thou hast chosen,Thee and thy parents to serve in the house, a maid who is honest.Hold her with care; for as long as thy household is under her keeping,Thou shalt not want for a sister, nor yet for a daughter thy parents."Many were come, meanwhile, near relatives all of the mother,Bringing her various gifts, and more suitable quarters announcing.All of them, hearing the maiden's decision, gave Hermann their blessing,Coupled with glances of meaning, while each made his special reflections.Hastily one and another would say in the ear of his neighbor:"If in the master a lover she find, right well were she cared for."Hermann took her at last by the hand, and said as he did so:"Let us be going; the day is declining, and distant the city."Eager and voluble then the women embraced Dorothea.Hermann drew her away; but other adieus must be spoken:Lastly the children with cries fell upon her and terrible weeping,Clung to her garments, and would not their dear second mother shouldleave them.But in a tone of command the women said, one and another:"Hush now, children, she's going to the town, and will presently bring youPlenty of nice sweet cake that was by your brother bespokenWhen by the stork just now he was brought past the shop of the baker.Soon you will see her come back with sugar-plums splendidly gilded."Then did the little ones loose their hold, and Hermann, though hardly,Tore her from further embraces away, and far-waving kerchiefs.