Smiling then to him the Rhine said: "Have no fear, my dear young dreamer, For I know where thy shoe pinches. Ye are strange and odd, ye mortals; Ye believe ye bear a secret Through the world in lonely musing, And each chafer understands it; E'en the gnats and the mosquitoes See it on your heated foreheads, See it in your tearful glances, That Love holds you in his meshes. Have no fear, I know what love is; I have heard upon my journeys Many false and many true vows Whispered in Romansh and German, Also in the Low Dutch language (In the last oft most insipid). Nightly likewise have I listened Near the shores to much flirtation And much kissing, yet kept silent. Many a poor devil also, In whose heart deep grief was gnawing, In my waves found peace and comfort. When the water-nymphs had gently Lulled him there to sleep, I bore him Off with care to shores far distant. Under willows, under rushes, Far from tongues of deadly malice, Rest is sweet to false Love's victims. Many thus have I so buried; I have also harboured many On the river's deep cool bottom In my crystal water-palace; Lodged them well so that they never Longed for man, nor for returning. "Have no fear, I know what love is. I myself feel something tightening Round my heart, when I the Schwarzwald's Mountains greet, and jump rejoicing O'er Schaffhausen's precipices, Force my way with courage, rushing Through the straits of Laufenburg. For I know that soon my lovely Schwarzwald child, the youthful Wiese, Comes to meet me, bashful, timid; And she prattles, in the rough speech Of the Almains, of the Feldberg, Of the ghosts beheld at midnight, Of sweet mountain flowers, and huge Caps and thirsty throats at Schopfheim. Yes, I love her, I have never Gazed enough at her blue eyes yet. Yes, I love her, I have never Kissed enough her rosy cheeks yet. Oft I rush, like thee, a dreamer, Wildly past old sober Basel, Get quite tired of the tedious Old town-councillors, and ruin Now and then a wall in passing. And they think, it was in anger, What was only done in frolic. Yes, I love her. Many other Charming women much pursue me; None, however,--e'en the stately, Richly vine-clad, blue-eyed Mosel-- Ever from my heart can banish Thee, the Feldberg's lovely daughter. When I through the sands of Holland Weary drag my sluggish waters, And I hear the wind-mills clapper, Tender longings oft steal o'er me For my early lovely sweetheart. Then with deep dull sound my waves roll Onward through the tedious meadows, Roll out far into the North Sea,