Or wonder. When they share their booty, both clothes and purse,-- As bad as you gipsies, and even worse, Such tales find ready credence. GIPSY. "Alas, alas! oh what have I done? Can listening aught avail me? I hear him toward my room hasten on, To hail me. My heart beat high, to myself I said: 'O would that thou hadst never betray'd That night of love to thy mother!'" YOUTH. Alas! I foolishly ventured there, For the cheating silence misled me; Ah, sweetest! let me to thee repair,-- Nor dread me! When suddenly rose a fearful din, Her mad relations came pouring in. My blood still boils in my body! GIPSY. "Oh when will return an hour like this? I pine in silent sadness; I've thrown away my only true bliss With madness. Alas, poor maid! O pity my youth! My brother was then full cruel in troth To treat the loved one so basely!" THE POET. The swarthy woman then went inside, To the spring in the courtyard yonder; Her eyes from their stain she purified, And,--wonder!-- Her face and eyes were radiant and bright, And the maid of the mill was disclosed to the sight Of the startled and angry stripling! THE MAID OF THE MILL. Thou sweetest, fairest, dearly-loved life! Before thine anger I cower; But blows I dread not, nor sharp-edged knife,-- This hour Of sorrow and love to thee I'll sing, And myself before thy feet I'll fling, And either live or die there! YOUTH. Affection, say, why buried so deep In my heart hast thou lain hidden? By whom hast thou now to awake from thy sleep Been bidden? Ah love, that thou art immortal I see! Nor knavish cunning nor treachery Can destroy thy life so godlike. THE MAID OF THE MILL. If still with as fond and heartfelt love, As thou once didst swear, I'm cherish'd, Then nought of the rapture we used to prove Is perish'd. So take the woman so dear to thy breast! In her young and innocent charms be blest, For all are thine from henceforward! BOTH. Now, sun, sink to rest! Now, sun, arise! Ye stars, be now shining, now darkling! A star of love now gleams in the skies, All-sparkling! As long as the fountain may spring and run, So long will we two be blended in one, Upon each other's bosoms! 1797. ----- THE TRAVELLER AND THE FARM~MAIDEN. HE. CANST thou give, oh fair and matchless maiden, 'Neath the shadow of the lindens yonder,-- Where I'd fain one moment cease to wander,-- Food and drink to one so heavy laden? SHE. Wouldst thou find refreshment, traveller weary, Bread, ripe fruit and cream to meet thy wishes,-- None but Nature's plain and homely dishes,-- Near the spring may soothe thy wanderings dreary. HE. Dreams of old acquaintance now pass through me, Ne'er-forgotten queen of hours of blisses. Likenesses I've often found, but this is One that quite a marvel seemeth to me! SHE. Travellers often wonder beyond measure, But their wonder soon see cause to smother;