“You cursèd beast!” Hans breaks out furious now,
And scolds and blusters, while he lays the blows on;
“You are too poor, then, even for the plow!
You rascal, so my ignorance to impose on!”
And while in this way angrily he goes on,
And swings the lash, behold! upon the way
A pleasant youth steps up so smart and gay.
A harp shakes ringing in his hand,
And through his glossy, parted hair
Winds glittering a golden band.