Near his cat sat the old Baron. In his eyes were often flashes, Now like lightning--then more softened Like the mellow rays of sunset, As he thought of bygone times. To old age belongs the solace Of recalling days of yore. Thus the aged ne'er are lonely. The dear shades are floating round them, Of the dead, in quaint old garments, Gorgeous once, now sadly faded. But fond memory blots decay out, And the skulls once more with beauty Are arrayed in youthful freshness. Then they talk of days long vanished, And the aged heart is beating, And the fist oft clinches tightly. As he passes by her turret, Once again she smiling greets him; Once again resound the trumpets, And the fiery charger bears him Neighing to the throng of battle. So the Baron with good humour Of the Past review was holding-- And, when oft he stretched his hand out, Suddenly grasped at his goblet, And a deep long draught then swallowed: Probably a dear and lovely Vision rose up bright before him. Oft it seemed as if his memory Clung to things which gave less pleasure; For sometimes, without a reason, Down there came on Hiddigeigei's Back a kick with cruel rudeness. And the cat thought it more prudent Then his resting-place to alter. Now into the hall stepped lightly The old Baron's lovely daughter Margaretta,--and her father Nodded kindly as she entered. Hiddigeigei's suffering face too Showed delight as cats express it. She had changed her festal white robe For a garment of black velvet. On her long and golden tresses, A black cap sat most coquettish, 'Neath which her blue eyes were smiling With a matron-like expression; To the girdle was attached the Bunch of keys and leather-pocket, German housewife's badge of honour. And she kissed the Baron's forehead, Saying: "Dear papa, don't blame me, If to-day I kept you waiting. The old Lady Abbess yonder In the convent did detain me, Told me many things of import, Wisely of old age discoursing, And of Time, the great destroyer. The Commander too of Beuggen Said such sweet things, just as if they Came right from the comfit-maker. I was glad, when I could leave them. For your lordship's further pleasure Here I am, all due attention. I am ready, from your favourite Theuerdank to read aloud now; For, I know, you like the rougher Tales of hunting and adventure, Better than the mawkish sweetness Of our present pastoral poets.