“Who art thou?” I cried—“like a dream of old times
“Thy appearance doth strangely beset me;
“Where is thy dwelling, enormous one?
“I’ll follow thee there, if thou’lt let me.”
The woman then smiled, and thus she replied:
“Thou art wrong, I’m a decent and quiet
“And highly moral personage too,
“By no means given to riot.
“I’m none of your foreign lorettes, my friend,
“And none of your common ladies;
“I’m Hamburg’s goddess, Hammonia by name,
“And to watch o’er its welfare my trade is!
“Thou art startled perchance to bear this news,
“Thou once undaunted singer?
“Art thou prepared to follow me still?
“Then quick, and no more let us linger.”
But I in reply laugh’d loudly and cried:
“I’ll follow thee instanter!
“If thou’lt go in front, I’ll go behind,—
“Yes, even to hell in a canter!”
CAPUT XXIV.
How I managed to mount the narrow stairs
I haven’t the slightest notion;
Perhaps the spirits carried me up
With some invisible motion.
But here, in Hammonia’s little room,
The hours pass’d swiftly o’er me;
The goddess confess’d the sympathy
That she had ever felt for me.
“Look here”—said she, “in former days
“The minstrel who sang the Messiah
“Was dearest to me of all the throng,
“With his piously-sounding lyre.
“To this day the bust of my Klopstock stands
“On that chest of drawers, but though on it,
“For many a year it has only served
“As a block for holding my bonnet.