“Thus I spoke, and yet the woman
“Smiled ironically; smiling
“She a switch of mistletoe
“Took, and then my head touch’d with it.
“Thereupon I felt a chilly
“Strange sensation, like a goose-skin
“Being o’er my members drawn;
“Yet in truth a goose-skin ’twas not—
“On the contrary, a dog-skin
“Was it rather; since that fearful
“Moment have I been converted
“As thou see’st me, to a pug-dog!”
Poor young fellow! Through his sobbing
Not a word more could he utter;
And he wept with so much fervour,
That in tears wellnigh dissolved he.
“Listen now,” I said with pity:
“Can I possibly relieve you
“Of your dog-skin, and restore you
“To humanity and verses?”
But the other raised his paws up
In the air disconsolately
And despairingly; at length he
Spake with sighing and with groaning:
“Till the Judgment Day, alas! I
“In this dog-skin must be prison’d,
“If I’m freed not from enchantment
“By a virgin’s self-devotion.
“Yes, a pure unsullied virgin,
“Who ne’er touch’d a human being,
“And the following condition
“Truly keeps, alone can free me.
“This unsullied virgin must,
“In the night of Saint Sylvester,
“Read Gustavus Pfizer’s[35] poems,
“And not go to sleep one moment!
“If she keeps awake while reading,
“And her modest eye ne’er closes,—
“Then shall I be disenchanted,
“Be a man,—yes, be undogg’d!”