"There"s the bridge still," says Johnnie. "But that"s all right, We"ll make it surely out of spite!
A solid boiler and double steam Should win in such a fight, "twould seem, Let it rave and rage and run at its bent, We"ll put it down: this element!
And our bridge is our pride. I must laugh always When I think back of the olden days, And all the trouble and misery That with the wretched boat would be; And many cheerful Christmas nights I spent at the ferryman"s house--the lights From our windows I"d watch and count them o"er, And could not reach the other sh.o.r.e."
The bridgekeeper"s house that stands in the north-- All windows to the south look forth, And the inmates there without peace or rest Are gazing southward with anxious zest: More furious grew the winds" wild games, And now, as if the sky poured flames, Comes shooting down a radiance bright O"er the water below.--Now again all is night.
"When shall we three meet again?"
"At midnight the top of the mountain attain!"
"By the alder-stem on the high moorland plain!"
"I"ll come."
"And I too."
"And the number I"ll tell."
"And I the names."
"I the torture right well."
"Whoo!
Like splinters the woodwork crashed in two."
"A bawble,--a naught, What the hand of man hath wrought!"
[Footnote 4: Translator: Margarete Munsterberg.]