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-honor'd gloom of noble lime-trees o'ershadow'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 neighboring townsmen a playground.

Scoop'd 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 round the spring, which ceaselessly well'd forth its waters,

Cleanly, enlcosed 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. But I will now describe the modest dress she is wearing:

First a bodice red her well-arch'd bosom upraises, Prettily tied, while black are the stays fitting closely around her.

Then the seams of the ruff she has carefully plaited and folded,

Which, with modest grace, her chin so round is encircling.

Free and joyously rises her head with its elegant oval,

Strongly round bodkins of silver her back-hair is many times twisted;

Her blue well-plaited gown begins from under her bodice,

And as she walks envelopes her well-turn'd ankles completely.

But I have one thing to say, and this must expressly entreat you:

Do not speak to the maiden, and let not your scheme be discover'd.

But inquire of others, and hearken to all that they tell

you,

When you have learnt enough to satisfy father and mother,

Then return to me straight, and we'll settle future proceedings.

This is the plan which I have matured, while driving you hither."

Thus he spoke, and the friends forthwith went on to the village,

Where, in gardens and barns and houses, the multitude crowded;

All along the broad road the numberless carts were col

lected,

Men were feeding the lowing cattle and feeding the horses.

Women on every hedge the linen were carefully drying,

Whilst the children in glee were splashing about in the streamlet.

Forcing their way through the wagons, and past the men and the cattle,

Walk'd the ambassador spies, looking well to the righthand and lefthand,

Hoping somewhere to see the form of the well-described maiden;

But wherever they look'd, no trace of the girl they discover'd.

Presently denser became the crowd. Round some of the wagons

Men in a passion were quarrelling, women also were screaming,

Then of a sudden approach'd an aged man with firm footstep

Marching straight up to the fighters; and forthwith was, hush'd the contention,

When he bade them be still, and with fatherly earnestness threaten'd.

"Are we not yet," he exclaim'd, ́"by misfortune so knitted together,

As to have learnt at length the art of reciprocal patience And toleration, though each cannot measure the actions of others?

Prosperous men indeed may quarrel! Will sorrow not teach you

How no longer as formerly you should quarrel with brethren?

Each should give way to each other, when treading the soil of the stranger,

And, as you hope for mercy yourselves, you should share your possessions.'

Thus the man address'd them, and all were silent. In peaceful

Humor the reconciled men look'd after their cattle and

wagons.

When the pastor heard the man discourse in this fashion,

And the foreign magistrate's peaceful nature discovered,

He approach'd him in turn, and used this significant language:

"Truly, Father, when nations are living in days of good fortune,

Drawing their food from the earth, which gladly opens its treasures,

And its wish'd-for gifts each year and each month is renewing.

Then all matters go smoothly; each thinks himself far the wisest,

And the best, and so they exist by the side of each other,

IX. URANIA.

CONCLUSION.

C YE Muses, who gladly favor a love that is heartfelt, Who on his way the excellent youth have hitherto guided,

Who have press'd the maid to his bosom before their betrothal,

Help still further to perfect the bonds of a couple so loving,

Drive away the clouds which over their happiness hover! But begin by saying what now in the house has been passing.

For the third time the mother impatiently enter'd the chamber

Where the men were sitting, which she had anxiously quitted,

Speaking of the approaching storm, and the loss of the moon's light,

Then of her son's long absence, and all the perils that night brings.

Strongly she censured their friends for having so soon left the youngster,

For not even addressing the maiden, or seeking to woo her.

66

'Make the worst of the mischief," the father peevishly

answer'd;

'For you see we are waiting ourselves, expecting the issue."

But the neighbor sat still, and calmly address'd them as follows:

"In uneasy moments like these, I always feel grateful To my late father, who when I was young all seeds of impatience

In my mind uprooted, and left no fragment remaining,

And I learnt how to wait, as well as the best of the wise men."

"Tell us what legerdemain he employ'd," the pastor made answer.

"I will gladly inform you, and each one may gain by the lesson,'

Answer'd the neighbor. "When I was a boy, I was standing one Sunday

In a state of impatience, eagerly waiting the carriage Which was to carry us out to the fountain under the lime-trees;

But it came not; I ran like a weasel, now hither, now thither,

Up and down the stairs, and from the door to the win

dow;

Both my hands were prickling, I scratch'd away at the tables,

Stamping and trotting about, and scarcely refrain'd I from crying.

All this the calm man composedly saw; but finally when I

Carried my folly too far, by the arm he quietly took me, Led me up to the window, and used this significant language:

See you up yonder the joiner's workshop, now closed for the Sunday?

'Twill be reopen'd to-morrow, and plane and saw will be working.

Thus will the busy hours be pass'd from morning till evening.

But remember this: the morning will soon be arriving, When the master, together with all his men, will be busy In preparing and finishing quicky and deftly our coffin, And they will carefully bring over here that house made of boards, which

Will at length receive the patient as well as impatient, And which is destined to carry a roof that's unpleasantly heavy.'

All that he mention'd I forthwith saw taking place in my mind's eye,

Saw the boards join'd together, and saw the black cover made ready,

Patiently then I sat, and meekly awaited the carriage.