Then with a serious look continued the maiden, and spoke thusFriends, to your mouths for the last time in truth I have lifted the pitcher,And for the last time, alas, have moisten'd your lips with pure water.But whenever in scorching heat your drink may refresh you,And in the shade you enjoy repose and a fountain unsullied,Then remember me, and all my friendly assistance,Which I from love, and not from relationship merely have render'd.All your kindness to me, as long as life lasts, I'll remember,I unwillingly leave you; but each one is now to each otherRather a burden than comfort. We all must shortly be scatter'dOver a foreign land, unless to return we are able.See, here stands the youth to whom for those gifts we're indebted,All those clothes for the child, and all those acceptable viands.Well, he has come, and is anxious that I to his house should go with him,There as a servant to act to his rich and excellent parents,And I have not refused him, for serving appears my vocation,And to be served by others at home would seem like a burden.So I'll go willingly with him; the youth appears to be prudent,Thus will his parents be properly cared for, as rich people should be.Therefore, now, farewell, my much-loved friend, and be joyfulIn your living infant, who looks so healthily at you.When you press him against your bosom, wrapp'd up in those colourdSwaddling-clothes, then remember the youth who so kindly bestow'd them,And who in future will feed and clothe me also, your loved friend.You too, excellent man," to the magistrate turning, she added"Warmly I thank for so often acting the part of a father."
ON bridges small and bridges greatStands Nepomucks in ev'ry state,Of bronze, wood, painted, or of stone,Some small as dolls, some giants grown;Each passer must worship before Nepomuck,Who to die on a bridge chanced to have the ill luck,When once a man with head and earsA saint in people's eyes appears,Or has been sentenced piteouslyBeneath the hangman's hand to die,He's as a noted person prized,In portrait is immortalized.Engravings, woodcuts, are supplied,And through the world spread far and wide.Upon them all is seen his name,And ev'ry one admits his claim;Even the image of the LordIs not with greater zeal ador'd.Strange fancy of the human race!Half sinner frail, half child of graceWe see HERR WERTHER of the storyIn all the pomp of woodcut glory.His worth is first made duly known,By having his sad features shownAt ev'ry fair the country round;In ev'ry alehouse too they're found.His stick is pointed by each dunce"The ball would reach his brain at once!"And each says, o'er his beer and bread:"Thank Heav'n that 'tis not we are dead!"
Wetting his naked feet;As if his true love's words were those,
And wherefore shouldst thou catch but me?
Livelier still became.
Parting the vapor mist that round me plays!My bosom finds its youthful strength again,Feeling the magic breeze that marks your train.
Ah! full love-sick was the stripling's soul.
Venus' radiant temple smiled on both.Mother! thou that promise since hast broken,
Drove me back with warning haste;By my forty years of lowly
And he looks in my face.
So high above me placed thou seem'st to stand;
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