“In that case, good friend,” replied I,
“I at any rate can never
“Undertake to disenchant you,
“For I’m no unsullied virgin;
“And still less should I be able
“To fulfil the task of reading
“All Gustavus Pfizer’s poems,
“And not fall asleep instanter!”
CAPUT XXIII.
From the witch’s entertainment
To the valley we descended,
And our footsteps to the region
Of the Positive return’d.
Hence, ye spirits! Nightly spectres!
Airy figures! Fev’rish visions!
We find rational employment
Once again with Atta Troll.
In the cavern, by his young ones,
Lies the old bear, soundly sleeping,
With the snore of conscious virtue,
And at length he wakes with gaping.
Near him squats young Master One-ear
And his head he’s gently scratching.
Like a bard whose rhyme is wanting,
And upon his paws he’s scanning.
Likewise by their father’s side
On their backs are dreaming lying
Innocent four-footed lilies,
Atta Troll’s belovèd daughters.
Say, what tender thoughts are pining
In the softly blooming spirits
Of these snowy young bear-virgins?
Moist with tears their eyes are glist’ning.
Most of all appears the youngest
Deeply moved. Within her bosom
She a blissful twinge is feeling,
And to Cupid’s might succumbs she.