THE MOUNTAINEER
Oh, would I were a falcon wild, I should spread my wings and soar; Then I should come a-swooping down By a wealthy burgher"s door.
In his house there dwells a maiden, She is called fair Magdalene, And a fairer brown-eyed damsel All my days I have not seen.
On a Monday morning early, Monday morning, they relate, Magdalene was seen a-walking Through the city"s northern gate.
Then the maidens said: "Thy pardon-- Magdalene, where wouldst thou go?"
"Oh, into my father"s garden, Where I went the night, you know."
And when she to the garden came, And straight into the garden ran, There lay beneath the linden-tree Asleep, a young and comely man.
"Wake up, young man, be stirring, Oh rise, for time is dear, I hear the keys a-rattling, And mother will be here."
"Hearst thou her keys a-rattling, And thy mother must be nigh, Then o"er the heath this minute Oh come with me, and fly!"
And as they wandered o"er the heath, There for these twain was spread, A shady linden-tree beneath, A silken bridal-bed.
And three half hours together, They lay upon the bed.
"Turn round, turn round, brown maiden; Give me thy lips so red!"
"Thou sayst so much of turning round, But naught of wedded troth, I fear me I have slept away My faith and honor both."
"And fearest thou, thou hast slept away Thy faith and honor too, I say I"ll wed thee yet, my dear, So thou shalt never rue."
Who was it sang this little lay, And sang it o"er with cheer?
On St. Annenberg by the town, It was the mountaineer.
He sang it there right gaily, Drank mead and cool red wine, Beside him sat and listened Three dainty damsels fine.
As many as sand-grains in the sea, As many as stars in heaven be, As many as beasts that dwell in fields, As many as pence which money yields, As much as blood in veins will flow, As much as heat in fire will glow, As much as leaves in woods are seen And little gra.s.ses in the green, As many as thorns that p.r.i.c.k on hedges, As grains of wheat that harvest pledges, As much as clover in meadows fair, As dust a-flying in the air, As many as fish in streams are found, And sh.e.l.ls upon the ocean"s ground, And drops that in the sea must go, As many as flakes that shine in snow-- As much, as manifold as life abounds both far and nigh, So much, so many times, for e"er, oh thank the Lord on high!
[Ill.u.s.tration: LUDWIG ACHIM VON ARNIM Strohling]
[Ill.u.s.tration: CLEMENS BRENTANO E. Linder]
THE SWISS DESERTER
At Stra.s.sburg in the fort All woe began for me The Alpine bugle"s call enticed me o"er, I had to swim to my dear country"s sh.o.r.e; That should not be.
One hour "twas in the night, They took me in my plight, And led me straightway to the captain"s door.
O G.o.d, they caught me in the stream--what more?
Now all is o"er.
Tomorrow morn at ten The regiment I"ll have to face; They"ll lead me there to beg for grace.
I"ll have my just reward, I know.
It must be so.
Ye brothers, all ye men, Ye"ll never see me here again; The shepherd boy, I say, began it all, And I accuse the Alpine bugle-call Of this my fall.
I pray ye, brothers three, Come on and shoot at me; Fear not my tender life to hurt, Shoot on and let the red blood spurt-- Come on, I say!
O Lord of heaven, on high!
Take my poor erring soul Unto its heavenly goal; There let it stay forever-- Forget me never!
THE TAILOR IN h.e.l.l
A tailor "gan to wander One Monday morning fair, And then he met the devil, Whose feet and legs were bare: Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, Come now with me to h.e.l.l--oh, And measure clothes for us to wear, For what we will, is well, oh!
The tailor measured, then he took His scissors long, and clipped The devils" little tails all off, And to and fro they skipped.
Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, Now hie thee out of h.e.l.l--oh, We do not need this clipping, sir, For what we will, is well, oh!
The tailor took his iron out, And tossed it in the fire; The devils" wrinkles then he pressed; Their screams were something dire.
Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, Begone now from our h.e.l.l--oh, We do not need this pressing, For what we will, is well, oh!
"Keep still!" he said and pierced their heads With a bodkin from his sack.
"This way we put the b.u.t.tons on, For that"s our tailor"s knack!
Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, Now get thee out of h.e.l.l--oh, We do not need this dressing, For what we will, is well, oh!
With thimble and with needle then His st.i.tching he began, And closed the devils" nostrils up As tight as e"er one can.
Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, Now his thee out of h.e.l.l--oh, We cannot use our noses, Do what we will for smell, oh!
Then he began to cut away-- It must have made them smart; With all his might the tailor ripped The devils" ears apart.
Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, Now march away from h.e.l.l--oh, We else should need a doctor, If what we will were well--oh!
And last of all came Lucifer And cried: "What horror fell!
No devil has his little tail; So drive him out of h.e.l.l."
Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, Now his thee out of h.e.l.l--oh, We need to wear no clothes at all-- For what we will, is well, oh!
And when the tailor"s sack was packed, He felt so very well--oh!
He hopped and skipped without dismay And had a laughing spell, oh!
And hurried out of h.e.l.l--oh, And stayed a tailor-fellow; And the devil will catch no tailor now, Let him steal, as he will--it is well, though!
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE REAPER Walter Crane]
THE REAPER
There is a reaper, Death his name; His might from G.o.d the highest came.