So while the cobbler took paper and pen and prepared to set down the words as well as the mistakes, Walter began to sing:
"The morning dawned with rosy light;
The scented air—
With flowers rare—
A vision of beauty rose to my sight;
A garden a-gleam
This was my dream!"
"Good, good!" said Hans Sachs heartily. "That is all right. Now you must be careful to have the next stanza just like that; the same number of measures and beats."
Walter began again:
"There in the garden stood a tree,
A wondrous sight
Of rich delight:
Its boughs full-fruited, wide and free,
All golden did seem
In this my dream!"
"Upon my word!" cried the cobbler delightedly. "You have got the beginning of a rare good song there! And it conforms to all the rules! Now if you will complete it as well as you have begun it, and be careful to keep the measures just as I have set them down, you will win the next contest you try."
"But I have forgotten the rest of my dream," said Walter.
"Never mind. Perhaps it will come to you later," replied the cobbler. "You have made a fine start." And giving him a few other suggestions, he then bade his guest come into the living-rooms and don some festival finery. Walter obeyed, though he felt anything but merry over the occasion.
While they were absent from the room, who should come in but Beckmesser. His vanity had led him to come after his new shoes, if perchance they were ready; and now seeing that the shop was empty he began to prowl about to see what he might discover. Soon his eye lighted upon the fresh copy of verses which Hans Sachs had left behind on the cobbler's bench. He read them, saw their value, and decided to pocket them to use for himself. But the cobbler returning just then upset him somewhat, and he resolved to brazen it out.
"I thought you said you were not going to take part in the contest," said the clerk blusteringly.