[after the manner of schiller.]
“Bursch! if foaming beer content ye,
Come and drink your fill;
In our cellars there is plenty;
Himmel! how you swill!
That the liquor hath allurance,
Well I understand:
But ’tis really past endurance,
When you squeeze my hand!”
And he heard her as if dreaming,
Heard her half in awe;
And the meerschaum’s smoke came streaming
From his open jaw:
And his pulse beat somewhat quicker
Than it did before,
And he finished off his liquor,
Staggered through the door;
Bolted off direct to Munich,
And within the year
Underneath his German tunic
Stowed whole butts of beer.
And he drank like fifty fishes,
Drank till all was blue;
For he felt extremely vicious—
Somewhat thirsty too.
But at length this dire deboshing
Drew towards an end;
Few of all his silver groschen
Had he left to spend.
And he knew it was not prudent
Longer to remain;
So, with weary feet, the student
Wended home again.
At the tavern’s well-known portal
Knocks he as before,
And a waiter, rather mortal,
Hiccups through the door—
“Master’s sleeping in the kitchen;
You’ll alarm the house;
Yesterday the Jungfrau Fritchen
Married baker Kraus!”
Like a fiery comet bristling,
Rose the young man’s hair,
And, poor soul! he fell a-whistling
Out of sheer despair.
Down the gloomy street in silence,
Savage-calm he goes;
But he did no deed of vi’lence—
Only blew his nose.
Then he hired an airy garret
Near her dwelling-place;
Grew a beard of fiercest carrot,
Never washed his face;
Sate all day beside the casement,
Sate a dreary man;
Found in smoking such an easement
As the wretched can;
Stared for hours and hours together,
Stared yet more and more;
Till in fine and sunny weather,
At the baker’s door,
Stood, in apron white and mealy,
That belovèd dame,
Counting out the loaves so freely,
Selling of the same.