Unperceived the old man came now By the border of the forest, To the Trumpeter whose last notes Rang resounding in the distance, Tapped him friendly on the shoulder: "My young master, may God bless you, 'Twas a fine tune you were playing! Since the horsemen of the emperor Buried here their serjeant-major, Whom a Swedish cannon-ball had Wounded mortally at Rhinefeld, And they blew as a farewell then The Reveille for their dead comrade-- Though 'tis long since it has happened, I have never heard such sounds here. Only on the organ plays my Organist, and that quite poorly; Therefore I am struck with wonder To encounter such an Orpheus. Will you treat to such fine music The wild beasts here of our forest, Stag and doe, and fox and badger? Or, perhaps, was it a signal, Like the call of the lost huntsman? I can see that you are strange here, By your long sword and your doublet; It is far still to the town there, And the road impracticable. Look, the Rhine-fog mounts already High up towards these upland forests, And it seems to me but prudent That with me you take your lodging; In the vale there stands my glebe-house, Plain, 'tis true, yet horse and rider Find sufficient shelter there." Then the horseman quickly answered: "Yes, I'm strange in a strange country, And I have not much reflected Where to-night shall be my lodging. To be sure, in these free forests A free heart can sleep if need be; But your courteous invitation I most gratefully accept." Then unfastened he his horse and Led it gently by the bridle, And the Pastor and the rider Like old friends walked to the village In the twilight of the evening. By the window of the glebe-house The old cook stood, looking serious; Mournfully her hands she lifted, Took a pinch of snuff and cried out: "Good St. Agnes! good St. Agnes! Stand by me in this my trouble! Thoughtlessly my kind old master Brings again a guest to stay here; What a thorough devastation Will he make in my good larder! Now farewell, you lovely brook-trout, Which I had reserved for Sunday, When the Dean of Wehr will dine here. Now farewell, thou hough of bacon! The old clucking hen, I fear much, Also now must fall a victim, And the stranger's hungry horse will Revel in our store of oats." SECOND PART. YOUNG WERNER WITH THE SCHWARZWALD PASTOR.