And I feel this silent smart
And the skeleton fails, crush'd to atoms.
Thereupon the worthy pastor smilingly answer'd"What kind of wisdom could have extracted the charming confessionOf this good maiden, and so have reveal'd all her character to us?Is not your care converted at once to pleasure and rapture?Speak out, then, for yourself! Why need explanations from othersHermann then stepped forward, and gently address'd her as follows"Do not repent of your tears, nor yet of your passing affliction;For they perfect my happiness; yours too, I fain would consider.I came not to the fountain, to hire so noble a maidenAs a servant, I came to seek to win you affections.But, alas! my timid gaze had not strength to discoverYour heart's leanings; it saw in your eye but a friendly expression,When you greeted it out of the tranquil fountain's bright mirror.Merely to bring you home, made half of my happiness certainBut you now make it complete! May every blessing be yours, then!"Then the maiden look'd on the youth with heartfelt emotion,And avoided not kiss or embrace, the summit of rapture,When they also are to the loving the long-wish'd-for pledgesOf approaching bliss in a life which now seems to them endless.Then the pastor told the others the whole of the story;But the maiden came and gracefully bent o'er the father,Kissing the while his hand, which he to draw back attempted.And she said:--" I am sure that you will forgive the surprised one,First for her tears of sorrow, and then for her tears of true rapture.O forgive the emotions by which they both have been prompted,And let me fully enjoy the bliss that has now been vouchsafed me!Let the first vexation, which my confusion gave rise to,Also be the last! The loving service which latelyWas by the servant promised, shall now by the daughter be render'd."
The buried pound no more I'll hide from sight.Why did I seek the road so anxiously,If hidden from my brethren 'twere to be?"
And yet 'tis done by each whose deeds are kind;And if there's no deceit in what he says,
To whom Mahomet spake"Spoil not the poor man of his sheep,
Magic-laden, hovers near;And, alas! ye're watered ever
Wine's genial glow, the festal banquet gay,
HARD 'tis on a fox's traces
Sun-s appeared to shineIn her dazzling charms.