Her you will easily recognize 'mongst all the rest of the people, For her appearance is altogether unlike that of others. But I will now describe the modest dress she is wearing:-- First a bodice red her well-arch'd bosom upraises, Prettily tied, while black are the stays fitting closely around her. Then the seams of the ruff she has carefully plaited and folded, Which with modest grace, her chin so round is encircling. Free and joyously rises her head with its elegant oval, Strongly round bodkins of silver her back-hair is many times twisted Her blue well-plaited gown begins from under her bodice. And as she walks envelopes her well-turn'd ankles completely. But I have one thing to say, and this must expressly entreat you: Do not speak to the maiden, and let not your scheme be discover'd. But inquire of others, and hearken to all that they tell you, When you have learnt enough to satisfy father and mother, Then return to me straight, and we'll settle future proceedings. This is the plan which I have matured, while driving you hither." Thus he spoke, and the friends forthwith went on to the village, Where, in gardens and barns and houses, the multitude crowded; All along the broad road the numberless carts were collected, Men were feeding the lowing cattle and feeding the horses. Women on every hedge the linen were carefully drying, Whilst the children in glee were splashing about in the streamlet. Forcing their way through the waggons, and past the men and the cattle, Walk'd the ambassador spies, looking well to the righthand and lefthand, Hoping somewhere to see the form of the well-described maiden; But wherever they look'd, no trace of the girl they discover'd. Presently denser became the crowd. Round some of the waggons. Men in a passion were quarrelling, women also were screaming. Then of a sudden approach'd an aged man with firm footstep Marching straight up to the fighters; and forthwith was hush'd the contention, When he bade them be still, and with fatherly earnestness threaten'd. "Are we not yet," he exclaim'd, "by misfortune so knitted together, As to have learnt at length the art of reciprocal patience And toleration, though each cannot measure the actions of others? Prosperous men indeed may quarrel! Will sorrow not teach you How no longer as formerly you should quarrel with brethren? Each should give way to each other, when treading the soil of the stranger, And, as you hope for mercy yourselves, you should share your possessions."