III.
The Wanderer grew merrier, and merrier still he grew,
Joining in all the harmless fun of that Tyrolean crew;
He sang Italian Opera airs, French chansons,[57] English songs,
And Burschen lieder,[58] that were chorused as by Chinese gongs.
He looked in his deep beer-glass: the kellnerin[59] knew the sign,
And fill’d it up: he took one sup, and then set-to at wine.
That night a horrid whisper pass’d, with calumny imbued,
It said “The long-hair’d Wanderer got regularly screw’d!”
(Chorus, unanimous and valedictory.)