'Oh thou Chimæra Tavern!' said he mournfully, 'Was that the end of 't? Meant that the flock of birds Which three days past went croaking to the left hand side? Said that the oxen's, entrails enigmatical? Oh thou Chimæra Tavern, what is pleasanter Than entering as a guest into thy guest-chamber? There neatly waits the experienced tavern-keeper; And heroes round the cool wine are convivial; Around the noble hill-descended Dimeros. From drinking mouths comes wisdom flowing thoughtfully, While at the upper linen-covered long table, Where Tegulinum's augur to the latest hour, Sternly defying, stands it like a bronze column, And sings in glees; that wonderful astrologer;-- Oh thou Chimæra Tavern, tell--if possible-- Whither goes hurrying?--ha! what was't I nearly spoke?-- What word--thrice god-curst word--on which--oh horrible! Hangs the Etruscan fate--ay, that's it--Ready Money! Oh Fufluns! Fufluns! Bacchus--dark and terrible! Now all is gone--away and gone away--ha--hummm! And yet a deed, I swear 't shall now by me be done, Such as the stupid world in dream has never dreamed, Shuddering and cold--my name shall to posterity By this one deed be carried, awful, horrible, As true as I by this priest's grave am standing now, I--Pumpus of Perusia, the Etruscan prince.' He said--and went. A sunbeam fell uncannily On spear and helm. Cold light was o'er the cypresses, Deep the gale sighed--grave-deep--like moaning far-away. The world was innocent then. As yet no one had known The law of contracts with its windings intricate, And e'en the sage in silver beard was ignorant Of loans or such a deed as money borrowing; Yet on that day i' the forest by Suessulæ One hero by another bold was borrowed from! This is the song of Pumpus of Perusia. THE TEUTOBURGER BATTLE. Als die Römer frech geworden, Zogen sie nach Deutschlands Norden, Vorne beim Trompetenschall Ritt der Generalfeldmarschall Herr Quinctilius Varus. When the Romans, rashly roving, Into Germany were moving, First of all--to flourish, partial-- Rode 'mid trumps the great field-martial, Sir Quinctilius Varus. But in the Teutoburgian forest How the north wind blew and chor-rused; Ravens flying through the air, And there was a perfume there As of blood and corpses. All at once, in sock and buskins Out came rushing the Cheruskins Howling, 'Gott und Vaterland!' They went in with sword in hand, Against the Roman legions. Ah, it was an awful slaughter, And the cohorts ran like water; But of all the foe that day, The horsemen only got away, Because they were on horseback.