Rana coaxit suaviter
In foliis viridibus.
The frog croaks softly
In the green herbage.
Hildegard sat motionless; a smile hovered about her mouth, and a deep blush suffused her cheek; but she dared not risk looking up, for fear lest the pleasant dream should be ended. “Is it thou, my comrade?” she softly murmured. But hardly had she spoken before she repented the too familiar speech.
“I am lying here[here] above thee, in the green leaves,” sounded back to her from overhead. “Right comfortable is my bed on the strong branch; look upward, if so please thee, that I may once more see those large eyes of thine, since it is they that have brought me hither.”
The maiden sprang lightly up, and turned toward the branch. In the same instant Immo thrust his head quickly out, and clinging to the branch with one hand he threw the other round her neck, and kissed her on the mouth. “Good day, comrade,” he said. “That is what I made up my mind to do, and I have done it!” He looked out once more from his hiding-place, and gazed tenderly upon her blushing cheek.—Gustav Freytag, The Wrens’ Nest.
Immortal Four of Italy (The): Dantê (1265-1321), Petrarch (1304-1374), Ariosto (1474-1533), and Tasso (1544-1595).
The poets read he o’er and o’er,
And most of all the Immortal Four