Then the pastor proceeded to cheer him with words of good comfort,But his companion broke in, in his usual talkative manner"As things used to be, this embarrassment would not have happened,When each matter was brought to a close in an orthodox fashion.Then for their son themselves the bride the parents selected,And a friend of the house was secretly call'd in the first place.He was then quietly sent as a suitor to visit the parentsOf the selected bride; and, dress'd in his gayest apparel,Went after dinner some Sunday to visit the excellent burgher,And began by exchanging polite remarks on all subjects,Cleverly turning and bending the talk in the proper direction.After long beating about the bush, he flatter'd the daughter,And spoke well of the man and the house that gave his commission.Sensible people soon saw his drift, and the sensible envoyWatch'd how the notion was taken, and then could explain himself farther.If they declined the proposal, why then the refusal cost nothing,But if all prosper'd, why then the suitor for ever thereafterPlay'd the first fiddle at every family feast and rejoicing.For the married couple remember'd the whole of their lifetimeWhose was the skilful hand by which the marriage knot tied was.All this now is chang'd, and with many an excellent customHas gone quite out of fashion. Each person woos for himself now.Everyone now must bear the weight of a maiden's refusalOn his own shoulders, and stand all ashamed before her, if needs be."
Which thou hadst placed o'er mine eyes,--wherefore remove it so late?Long did the vessel, when laden, lie waiting for favouring breezes,
So again and again sing: BIBAMUS!For joy through a wide-open portal it guides,Bright glitter the clouds, as the curtain divides,An a form, a divine one, to greet us in glides,
Their forms in ocean lave?Shines not with twofold charms their face,
(* See Tasso's Gerusalemme Liberata, Canto XVI.)
Eve near him,--she, too, fell asleep.There lay they now, on earth's fair shrine,God's two most beauteous thoughts divine.--When this He saw, He cried:--'Tis Good!!!And scarce could move from where He stood.
Again I see.
1815.*-----THE SWISS ALPS.
And homage may retreat there too.
Poor knight of high estate!Thou hast in truth a lofty mind;The queen of flowers is then enshrin'd,
So wont of yore to meet my troubled gaze!Were it in vain to seek to keep you here?