Part 3 (2/2)

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 br.i.m.m.i.n.g Jug of wine, then filled the gla.s.ses 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 n.o.ble 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 pa.s.sions.”

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 compa.s.sion.

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 s.h.i.+ne.

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 circ.u.mspectly, 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 Ulpia.n.u.s; How then later comers dabbled.

Till the Emperor Justinia.n.u.s, 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?

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