Yet, all-beloved-one, straight know I thee;Thou mayst with magic veils thy face disguise,
O'er the mountain, like the roe.
Is it a wonder?Flutes sing and trumpets bray,
"I sing, like birds of blithesome note,
"Let that be as it may," then answered the young man who scarcelyHeard what was said, and his mind had made up already in silence"I will go myself, and out of the mouth of the maidenLearn my own fate, for towards her I cherish the most trustful feelingsThat any man ever cherish'd towards any woman whatever.That which she says will be good and sensible,--this I am sure of.If I am never to see her again, I must once more behold her,And the ingenuous gaze of her black eyes must meet for the last time.If to my heart I may clasp her never, her bosom and shouldersI would once more see, which my arm so longs to encircle:Once more the mouth I would see, from which one kiss and a Yes willMake me happy for ever, a No for ever undo me.But now leave me alone! Wait here no longer. Return youStraight to my father and mother, in order to tell them in personThat their son was right, and that the maiden is worthy.And so leave me alone! I myself shall return by the footpathOver the hill by the pear-tree and then descend through the vineyard,Which is the shortest way back. Oh may I soon with rejoicingTake the beloved one home! But perchance all alone I must slink backBy that path to our house and tread it no more with a light heart."Thus he spoke, and then placed the reins in the hands of the pastor,Who, in a knowing way both the foaming horses restraining,Nimbly mounted the carriage, and took the seat of the driver.
So fulfil my pleasure, sir!
She holds a bird still;Yet lets him fly from her,
Forbids all delay.
But their wonder soon see cause to smother;
Though with firm sinewyLimbs he may standOn the enduringWell-grounded earth,All he is everAble to do,Is to resembleThe oak or the vine.