Three comrades on the German Rhine—
Defying care and weather—
Together quaffed the mellow wine
And sung their songs together,
What recked they of the griefs of life
With wine and song to cheer them?
Though elsewhere trouble might be rife,
It would not come anear them!
Anon one comrade passed away,
And presently another—
And yet unto the tryst each day
Repaired the lonely brother,
And still, as gayly as of old,
That third one, hero-hearted,
Filled to the brim each cup of gold
And called to the departed:
"O comrades mine, I see you not,
Nor hear your kindly greeting;
Yet in this old familiar spot
Be still our loving meeting!
Here have I filled each bouting cup
With juices red and cherry—
I pray ye drink the portion up,
And, as of old, make merry!"
And once before his tear-dimmed eyes,
All in the haunted gloaming,
He saw two ghostly figures rise
And quaff the beakers foaming;
He heard two spirit voices call:
"Fiducit, jovial brother!"
And so forever from that hall
Went they with one another.

III.

(Der Mann im Keller.)

How cool and fair this cellar where
My throne a dusky cask is!
To do no thing but just to sing
And drown the time my task is!
The cooper, he's
Resolved to please,
And, answering to my winking,
He fills me up
Cup after cup
For drinking, drinking, drinking.
Begrudge me not this cozy spot
In which I am reclining—
Why, who would burst with envious thirst
When he can live by wining?
A roseate hue seems to imbue
The world on which I'm blinking;
My fellow men—I love them when
I'm drinking, drinking, drinking.
And yet, I think, the more I drink,
It's more and more I pine for—
Oh such as I (forever dry!)
God made this land of Rhine for!
And there is bliss
In knowing this,
As to the floor I'm sinking;
I've wronged no man,
And never can,
While drinking, drinking, drinking!

THE THREE TAILORS.

(From the German of C. Herlossohn.)

I shall tell you in rhyme how, once on a time,
Three tailors tramped up to the Inn Ingleheim
On the Rhine—lovely Rhine;
They were broke, but, the worst of it all, they were curst
With that malady common to tailors—a thirst
For wine—lots of wine!
"Sweet host," quoth the three, "we're as hard up as can be,
Yet skilled in the practice of cunning are we
On the Rhine—genial Rhine;
And we pledge you we will impart you that skill
Right quickly and fully, providing you'll fill
Us with wine—cooling wine!"
But that host shook his head, and warily said:
"Though cunning be good, we take money instead,
On the Rhine—thrifty Rhine;
If ye fancy ye may without pelf have your way
You'll find there's both host and the devil to pay
For your wine—costly wine!"
Then the first knavish wight took his needle so bright
And threaded its eye with a wee ray of light
From the Rhine—sunny Rhine;
And in such a deft way patched a mirror that day
That where it was mended no expert could say—
Done so fine—'twas for wine!
The second thereat spied a poor little gnat
Go toiling along on his nose broad and flat
Toward the Rhine—pleasant Rhine;
"Aha, tiny friend, I should hate to offend,
But your stockings need darning," which same did he mend,
All for wine—soothing wine!
And next there occurred what you'll deem quite absurd—
His needle a space in the wall thrust the third,
By the Rhine—wondrous Rhine;
And then, all so spry, he leapt through the eye
Of that thin cambric needle; nay, think you I'd lie
About wine? Not for wine!
The landlord allowed (with a smile) he was proud
To do the fair thing by that talented crowd
On the Rhine—generous Rhine!
So a thimble filled he as full as could be;
"Drink long and drink hearty, my jolly guests three,
Of my wine—filling wine!"