O, my father! the maiden no vagabond is, I assure you, No mere adventurer, wand'ring about all over the country, And deceiving the inexperienced youths with her cunning;No! the harsh destiny link'd with this war, so destructive of all things, Which is destroying the world, and already has wholly uprooted Many a time-honour'd fabric, has driven the poor thing to exile.
Are not brave men of noble birth now wand'ring in mis'ry?
Princes are fleeing disguised, and monarchs in banishment living.
Ah, and she also herself, the best of her sisters, is driven Out of her native land; but her own misfortunes forgetting, Others she seeks to console, and, though helpless, is also most helpful.
Great are the woes and distress which over the earth's face are brooding, But may happiness not be evoked from out of this sorrow?
May not I, in the arms of my bride, the wife I have chosen, Even rejoice at the war, as you at the great conflagration?"Then replied the father, and open'd his mouth with importance:--"Strangely indeed, my son, has your tongue been suddenly loosen'd, Which for years has stuck in your mouth, and moved there but rarely I to-day must experience that which threatens each father:
How the ardent will of a son a too-gentle mother Willingly favours, whilst each neighbour is ready to back him, Only provided it be at the cost of a father or husband!
But what use would it be to resist so many together?
For I see that defiance and tears will otherwise greet me.
Go and prove her, and in God's name then hasten to bring her Home as my daughter; if not, he must think no more of the maiden."Thus spake the father. The son exclaim'd with jubilant gesture "Ere the ev'ning arrives, you shall have the dearest of daughters, Such as the man desires whose bosom is govern'd by prudence And I venture to think the good creature is fortunate also.
Yes, she will ever be grateful that I her father and mother Have restored her in you, as sensible children would wish it.
But I will loiter no longer; I'll straightway harness the horses, And conduct our friends on the traces of her whom I love so, Leave the men to themselves and their own intuitive wisdom, And be guided alone by their decision--I swear it,--And not see the maiden again, until she my own is."Then he left the house; meanwhile the others were eagerly Settling many a point, and the weighty matter debating.
Hermann sped to the stable forthwith, where the spirited stallions Tranquilly stood and with eagerness swallow'd the pure oats before them, And the well-dried hay, which was cut from the best of their meadows.
Then in eager haste in their mouths the shining bits placed he, Quickly drew the harness through the well-plated buckles, And then fastend the long broad reins in proper position, Led the horses out in the yard, where already the carriage, Easily moved along by its pole, had been push'd by the servant.
Then they restrain'd the impetuous strength of the fast-moving horses, Fastening both with neat-looking ropes to the bar of the carriage.
Hermann seized his whip, took his seat, and drove to the gateway.
When in the roomy carriage his friends had taken their places, Swiftly he drove away, and left the pavement behind them, Left behind the walls of the town and the clean-looking towers, Thus sped Hermann along, till he reach'd the familiar highway, Not delaying a moment, and galloping uphill and downhill.
When however at length the village steeple descried he, And not far away lay the houses surrounded by gardens, He began to think it was time to hold in the horses.
By the time-honour'd gloom of noble lime-trees o'er shadow'd, Which for many a century past on the spot had been rooted, Stood there a green and spreading grass-plot in front of the village, Cover'd with turf, for the peasants and neighbouring townsmen a playground.
Scooped out under the trees, to no great depth, stood a fountain.
On descending the steps, some benches of stone might be seen there, Ranged all around the spring, which ceaselessly well'd forth its waters, Cleanly, enclosed by a low wall all round, and convenient to draw from.
Hermann then determined beneath the shadow his horses With the carriage to stop. He did so, and spoke then as follows "Now, my friends, get down, and go by yourselves to discover Whether the maiden is worthy to have the hand which I offer.
I am convinced that she is; and you'll bring me no new or strange story:
Had I to manage alone, I would straightway go off to the village, And in few words should my fate by the charming creature be settled.
Her you will easily recognize 'mongst all the rest of the people, For her appearance is altogether unlike that of others.
