The Jews are however divided again Into two very different parties; The old one goes to the synagogue, In the temple the new one’s heart is. The new party eat the flesh of swine, Their manners are somewhat dogmatic; They democrats are, but the older school Is much more aristocratic. I love the old, and I love the new, Yet I swear by the prophet Jonas That certain fish I love still more,-- Smoked sprats they are commonly known as! CAPUT XXIII. Though as a republic Hamburg was ne’er As great as Venice or Florence, Yet Hamburg has better oysters; one gets The best in the cellar of Laurence. I went there with Campe at evening time, When splendid was the weather, Intending on oysters and Rhenish wine To have a banquet together. I found some excellent company there, And greatly was delighted To see many old friends, such as Chaufepié, And new ones, self-invited. There Wille was, whose very face Was an album where foes academic Right legibly had inscribed their names In the shape of scars polemic. There Fucks was also, a heathen blind, And personal foe of Jehovah, Who believed but in Hegel, and slightly perhaps In the Venus of Canova. My Campe was our Amphytrion there, And smiled and enjoy’d the honour; His eye was beaming with happiness, Just like an ecstatic Madonna. I ate and drank with an appetite good, And these thoughts then cross’d my noddle: “This Campe is really an excellent man, “And of publishers quite the model. “Another publisher, I feel sure, “Would have left me of hunger to perish; “But he has given me drink as well, “His name I ever shall cherish. “I thank the mighty Lord of all “Who this juice of the grape created, “And Campe to me as a publisher gave, “Whose merits can’t be overrated. “I thank the mighty Lord of all “Who by His own mere motion “Created on earth the Rhenish wine, “And the oysters in the ocean. “Who also made the lemons to grow, “The oyster’s flavour to sweeten,-- “O may I peacefully to-night “Digest what I have eaten!” The Rhenish wine makes my feelings soft, All quarrelsome thoughts congealing Within my breast, and kindling instead A philanthropic feeling. It now compell’d me to leave the room, And through the streets to wander; My soul sought a soul, and the sight of each dress Of a woman made it still fonder. In moments like this, with grief I could melt, While my yearning makes me tremble; The cats appear to me all too grey, And Helens the women resemble.-- And when I came to the Drehbahn Street, I saw in the moonbeams glancing The noble form of a woman fair, With stately grace advancing.