Every one a bear or spectre! Striding upright every bear Leads an apparition wrapped In a white and gleaming shroud. Coupled in this wise, each pair Up and down began to waltz Through the hall. O strangest sight! Fit for laughter and for fear! How those plump old animals Panted in the paces set By those filmy shapes of air Whirling gracefully and light! Pitiless, the harried beasts Thus were borne along until Their deep panting overdroned Even the orchestral bass! When betimes the couples crashed In collision, then each bear Gave the pushing spectre straight Hearty kicks upon the rump. Sometimes in the tumult too When the cerements fell away From each white and muffled head,-- Lo! a grinning skull appeared! But at last with shattering blare Yelled the horns, the cymbals clashed And the thunder of the drums Brought about the gallopade. But the end of this, alas, Came not to my dreams. For, lo, One most clumsy bear trod full On my corns--I shrieked and woke! [Illustration] [Illustration] CANTO XXII Phoebus in his solar coach, Whipping up his steeds of flame, Had traversed the middle part Of his journey through the skies, Whilst in sleep I lay a-dream With the goblins and the bears Winding like mad arabesques Through my slack and heated brain. When I wakened it was noon, And I found myself alone, Since my hostess and Lascaro For the chase had left at dawn. There was no one save the pug In the hovel. There he stood By the hearth beside the pot Holding in his paws a spoon. Clever pug! well disciplined! Lest the steaming soup boil over, Swift he stirred it round and round, Skimming off the foam and scum. But--am I bewitchèd too? Or does fever smoulder still In my brain? For scarce can I Trust my ears. The pug-dog speaks! Aye, he speaks in homely strains Of the Swabian dialect, Deeply sunk in thought, he cries, As it were within a dream: "Woe is me--a Swabian bard, Banned in exile must I grieve In a pug-dog's cursèd shape Guardian of a witch's pot. "What a base and hideous crime Is this sorcery! My fate Ah, how tragic! I, a man, In the body of a dog! "Had I but remained at home With my jolly comrades true-- No vile sorcerers are they! And their spells no man need fear. "Had I but remained at home At Karl Meyer's--with the sweet Noodles of the Vaterland And good honest metzel-soup! "Of homesickness I shall die! Might I only spy the smoke Rising from old Stuttgart's flues When the precious dumplings seethe."