CHORUS.

'Away--along! Away--along!

With trembling, your jaws on the stretch.

Away--along! I sing the song Of Enderle von Ketsch!'

SOLO.

The thunder grew calmer and wiser, Like oil lay the water below; But oh, the old brave Muckenhauser The Chancellor felt sorrow and woe.

The Pfalzgrave stood up by the rudder, And gazed on the billowy foam; 'Rem blem! all my soul's in a shudder, Oh, Cyprus--I travel for home!

'G.o.d spare me such terrible menace-- I'm wiser through trial and pain; Back, back on our course to old Venice-- I'll ne'er borrow money again.

'And he who 'mid heathens at table His cash to the devil has slammed, Let him hook it in peace while he's able,-- It sounds like all h.e.l.l and be d.a.m.ned!'[6]

[Footnote 6: Der verzieh' sich gerauschlos bei Zeiten, Es klingt doch hollenverdammt.]

RODENSTEIN.

THE RODENSTEIN BALLADS.

THE THREE VILLAGES.

I.

Wer reit't mit zwanzig Knappen ein Zu Heidelberg im Hirschen?

Das ist der Herr von Rodenstein, Auf Rheinwein will er pirschen.

Who is it rides with twenty spears, Straight to the Stag Inn going?

Von Rodenstein and cavaliers, To set the Rhine wine flowing.

Hurrah! the tap! Give wine to me, The best of all your tillage!

A whole year long we'll merry, merry be, Although it cost a village.

I've Pfaffenbeerfurt, o' my soul!

And Reichelsheim so loyal.

The trumps and psaltery played to wine, Although no drums were beating; For six months sat the Rodenstein, To Rhine wine measures treating.

And when six months in frolic fled He for the reckoning halloed, And 'Now the fun is o'er,' he said, 'For Reichelsheim is swallowed!

Reichelsheim's gone!

Gone with a race!

Reichelsheim loyal, the schnaps-making place, Old Reichelsheim is swallowed!

'Hollaheh! it's gone, at worst; We've all our way of thinking; They never say a word for thirst, But always talk of drinking.

Reichelsheim's gone!

Gone with a race!

Reichelsheim loyal, the schnaps-stilling place, Old Reichelsheim is swallowed.'

Hol-li-roh!

III.

Wer w.a.n.kt zu Fusse ganz allein Gen Heidelberg zum Hirschen?

Das ist der Herr von Rodenstein, Vorbei ist's mit dem Pirschen.

Who trots afoot alone to dine, Still to the Stag a rover?

That is the Herr von Rodenstein, But all his drinking's over.

'Landlord, your smallest beer for me And one poor herring salted; I've drunk so much of your Malvasie, That all my taste has halted.

'What once the greatest thirst was called At length has vanished hollow; The last place in the Odenwald I find I cannot swallow.

'Now call me in a notary To write my will with prudence: Pfaffenbeerfurt to the University, And my thirst unto the students.

'It moves even me, though old and gray, To see the cups they're swinging, And if they drink like me, some day They'll all in it be singing: "Pfaffenbeerfurt is gone!

Pfaffenbeerfurt is done!

Pfaffenbeerfurt the dung-sparrow hole, as 'tis called, Pfaffenbeerfurt the gem of the Odenwald, Pfaffenbeerfurt is finished and swallowed.

"Hollaheh! it's gone at worst; We've all our way of thinking; They never say a word for thirst, But always talk of drinking.

Pfaffenbeerfurt is gone!

Pfaffenbeerfurt is done!

Pfaffenbeerfurt the dung-sparrow hole, as 'tis called, Pfaffenbeerfurt is finished and swallowed."'

Hol-li-roh!

THE WELCOME.

Und als der Herr von Rodenstein Zum Frankenstein sich wandte, Empfing er seinen Ehrenwein So wie es Brauch im Lande.

And as the Herr von Rodenstein To Frankenstein was going, They served the 'wine of honour' fine, To him great honour showing.

In Beerbach by the Town Hall brought The Zentgrave with the people, The owl-jug. The old lord laughed out-- 'Bring up your sour tipple!

Ye fellows, let your voices sound!

The welcome goes around, around; Hallo! the peasants owl-cup Goes round, goes round!'

And when in the Lime of Frankenstein The merry riders found them, The castle-youth in garments fine Came thickly thronging round them.

A jack-boot made of porcelain They brought--he did not falter, But drained it as he drew the rein, While all sang out the psalter; 'Ye fellows, let your voices sound!

The welcome goes around, around; Holliro! the boot-cup Goes round, goes round!'