SIR RIBBECK OF RIBBECK[3]
By THEODOR FONTANE
Sir Ribbeck of Ribbeck in Havelland—
A pear-tree in his yard did stand,
And in the golden autumn-tide,
When pears were shining far and wide,
Sir Ribbeck, when barely the bells struck noon,
Would stuff both his pockets with pears right soon.
If a boy in clogs would come his way,
He would call: "My boy, have a pear today?"
To a girl he'd call: "Little maid over there,
Now come here to me, and I'll give you a pear."
And thus he did ever, as years went by,
Till Sir Ribbeck of Ribbeck came to die.
He felt his end coming, 'twas autumn-tide,
And the pears were laughing, far and wide,
Then spoke Sir Ribbeck: "And now I must die.
Lay a pear in my grave, beside me to lie!"
From the double-roofed house in three days more,
Sir Ribbeck to his grave they bore.
All the peasants and cotters with solemn face,
Did sing: "Lord Jesus, in Thy Grace"—
And the children moaned with hearts of lead:
"Who will give us a pear? Now he is dead."
Thus moaned the children—that was not good—
Not knowing old Ribbeck as they should.
The new, to be sure, is a miser hard;
Over park and pear-tree he keeps stern guard.
But the old, who this doubtless could foretell,
Distrusting his son, he knew right well
What he was about when he bade them lay
A pear in his grave, on his dying day:
Out of his silent haunt, in the third year,
A little pear-tree shoot did soon appear.
And many a year now comes and goes,
But a pear-tree on the grave there grows,
And in the golden autumn-tide,
The pears are shining far and wide.
When a boy o'er the grave-yard wends his way,
The tree whispers: "Boy, have a pear today?"
To a girl it says: "Little maid over there,
Come here to me and I'll give you a pear."
So there are blessings still from the hand
Of Sir Ribbeck of Ribbeck in Havelland.
[Footnote 3: Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.]
THE BRIDGE BY THE TAY[4] (1879)
/# "When shall we three meet again".—Macbeth #/
"When shall we three meet again?"
"The dam of the bridge at seven attain!"
"By the pier in the middle. I'll put out amain
"The flames."
"I too."
"I'll come from the north."
"And I from the south."
"From the sea I'll soar forth."
"Ha, that will be a merry-go-round,
The bridge must sink into the ground."
"And with the train what shall we do
That crosses the bridge at seven?"
"That too."
"That must go too!"
"A bawble, a naught,
What the hand of man hath wrought!"
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;
They gaze and wait a light to spy
That over the water "I'm coming!" should cry,
"I'm coming—night and storm are vain—
I from Edinburg the train!"
And the bridgekeeper says: "I see a gleam
On the other shore. That's it, I deem.
Now mother, away with bad dreams, for see,
Our Johnnie is coming—he'll want his tree,
And what is left of candles, light
As if it were on Christmas night.
Twice we shall have our Christmas cheer—
In eleven minutes he must be here."
It is the train, with the gale it vies
And panting by the south tower flies.
"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 shore."
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 Münsterberg.]
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