The sharpest woodspirits are mandrakes however;
Short legs have these bearded mannikins clever;
They have old men’s faces, the length of a span,
But whence they proceed, is a secret to man.
When head over heels in the moonlight they tumble,
They remind one of roots in their nature quite humble;
But as my welfare they always have sought,
Their origin really to me matters nought.
In small acts of witchcraft they gave me instructions,
How to exorcise flames, ply the birds with seductions,
And also to pluck on Midsummer night
The root that makes one invisible quite.
They taught me the stars and strange signs—how astraddle
To ride on the winds without any saddle,
And Runic sentences, able to call
The dead from out of their silent graves all.
They also taught me the whistle mysterious
That serves to deceive the woodpecker serious,
And makes him give us the spurge, to show
Where secret treasures are hidden below.
The words that ’tis needful for people to mutter
When digging for treasure, they taught me to utter;
But all in vain, for I ne’er got by heart
The treasure-digger’s wonderful art.
For money in fact I then cared not a tittle,
My wants were soon satisfied, being but little;
I possess’d many castles in Spain’s fair land,
The income from which came duly to hand.
O charming time, when the heaven’s high arches
With fiddles were hung, when elfin marches
And nixes’ dances and cobolds’ glad play
My story-drunk heart enchanted all day!
O charming time, when into auspicious
Triumphal arches the foliage delicious
Appear’d to be twining! I wander’d around,
My brow, like a victor’s, with laurel-wreath crown’d.
That charming time has utterly vanish’d,
And all those pleasures for ever are banish’d;
And, ah! they have stolen the garland so fair
That I was then wont on my head to wear.