Thus driven by furious fancies, I went down the hill with a shout; But atoned for my youthful romances By a thousand years rolling about. Cried the Glacier, his teeth sharply showing, Here, my blade, you'll be polished right well, And from my moraine-offal going, As a stranger be borne from the dell. Then be scratched and be scraped and be driven, I rolled to a rock that was cracked, But with blows was knocked upward to heaven, Be twisted, be puffed, and be whacked. Just try to be proper and decent In chaotic upheavals of mud! Down I sunk, down to periods recent, When the ice wall went off in the flood. And rough is the rôle he unravels Who plays in an ice part--ah, me! On a flake I set out on my travels, And the ice cake soon melted at sea. Plimp, plump! down I went to the bottom, For ages lay sleeping in clay, Until the heat finally caught 'em, And Glacier and Flood dried away. Then the Sun, with a hotter light blazing, Shone down where the billows once played; And with the rhinoceros grazing, The mammoth was seen in the glade. Now we from the driving ice fast-time Are useful, although it be late, And to heathen and Christian for pastime Give stones for the Church and the State. * * * * * Two geologists made up this ditty In the vale between Aaré and Reuss; And the inn where they sang it, so witty, Was all built of boulders of gneiss. They sang with deep feeling dramatic, To the landscape of Findling so fine; Then went like two boulders erratic, Both tumbling and stumbling with wine. THE COMET. Ich armer Komet in dem himmlischen Feld Wie ist's doch so windig mit mir bestellt! Ich leb' in steten Sorgen, Mein Licht selbst muss ich borgen ... Ich erscheine nur von Zeit zu Zeit Dann muss ich wieder fort in die Dunkelheit. I a poor comet on high, you see, How windy and wild is my destiny! I live in constant sorrow, My light e'en I must borrow; I only appear from time to time, Then must wander away in gloom and grime. By lady Sun I'm ever distracted, And to her by power magnetic attracted; Yet she will not endure That I should rise up to her, I must long for her from flights afar, For, alas! I'm in fact an eccentric star. The fixed stars all in bitter fun Declare I'm a lost and prodigal son. They say I still go tottering Here, there, among them pottering, And where I once on my way have been Nothing but dimness and darkness are seen.