Therefore I wear the Baden Band,
And guard with hand and steel.
Fourthly.--Others are drinking songs; as "Crambambuli, that is the title;" or "When carousing I shall die;" "The year is good, the brown beer thrives;" "Bring me blood of noble vines;" "The dearest sweetheart that I have;" "I have throughout the forenoon long;" "I and my dear bottle;" "Now sing in dulci jubilo;" or that maiden song, in which the maiden is drunk for, while he who empties most measures is declared the conqueror, and entitled to marry the maiden; while the rest cry and chorus.
He's done it stout, he's done it stout,
So will he not be laughed right out.
And the maiden, who all the while is perfectly unconscious of these proceedings, and has given no consent to them, is declared to be won, and is pronounced to be the beloved of the victor. Ah, poor maiden! so wouldst thou, not out of love, but truly contrary to thy will, be thrown into the arms of a drunkard!
This maiden song is now, to the honour of the studentship, quite out of use; yet Zackariä describes such a scene as common in the days of his Renommist.
And therefore filled he with beer that mighty glass,
And drank it off the first unto that fair endearing---
A maiden yet whose name had scarcely met his hearing
He held in hand, as sceptre, the solid room-door key,
Thus acted he as chief, and to his realm gave he
A sacred law, unpausing the measured draught to end;
And oft his judge's arm let the heavy key descend.
Wo unto him who then this law as rebel brake,
When he that thunder-word pro pœna, to him spake.
Then must another measure his luckless throat o'erflow,
Or stood he in great danger the damsel to forego.
* * * * *
"But now, ye Brothers--hoch! and let Selinda live.
Vivat Selinda, hoch! with roughest throats now roar,
Vivat Selinda, hoch! cry mightily once more!
Shout for the third time--hoch!"--the very room did quiver,
And on the long wet table the glasses ring and shiver.
As in old Homer's story, upon the Trojan plain,
Mars, like ten thousand men, sent forth a cry of pain,
Till the whole army trembled, with rock, and hill, and valley,
So trembled now this chamber with this Studenten sally.
Then Torf her lovely countenance with such a beauty draws,
That each one swearing gave a thundering applause.
The Renommist then cried--who inly now grew warmer--
Here I myself do choose her--I choose her for my Charmer.
"The fiend thou dost!" said Torf, right loath to give her o'er,
But Raufbold straight defied him to twenty choppins more.
Torf yielded up the contest--strength did his hope betray,
And Leipsic's crown was thus far from the faint-heart drunk away.
The Renommist.