He found, fear-stricken and amaz’d,
That he a rough oak trunk embrac’d,
Instead of the enchanting waist
Of his mysterious fair.
Then straight abroad a voice he heard,
Which sang the window through;
These were the words the voice proffer’d
If my report be true:
“Come out to her whom thou didst wed!
Upon my mead thy couch is spread.”
From this he guessed with some elf maid
That he had had to do.
THE TREASURE DIGGER
O, would that with last and shoe I had stay’d,
Without wild desires;
And, ah! no trust in Satan had laid,
That prince of liars!
Each Saturday night, when slept the rest,
Away I stroll’d
To the forest, so murky and drear, in quest
Of buried gold.
And then I beheld the hopping fire glow
The briar behind;
And down to the earth my wishing-rod low
Itself declin’d.
I dug then, and gripped the chest’s ring amain,
And held it stout;
But the copper deceitful burst in twain,
And the fiends laughed out.
Just, just as long was the treasure my own,
As I trembled with fright;
But soon as I held it secure, down, down
It sank from sight.
Ye devilish pack, what grin ye at?
I fell not your prey;
I’ll trust no more in old women’s chat,
And in cross-shaped way.
I go by my last and shoe to stay,
Without wild desires;
And ne’er more in Satan I trust will lay,
That prince of liars!