Said the spirit: "Thou knowest nothing Of all this, my noble fir-tree. Meysenhartus and his brothers O'er the globe rule powerfully; Everywhere throughout creation Are wrong tracks, and also people Who upon these same paths wander. And whenever, gay or mournful, Someone goes upon a wrong track, He has been by us deluded. Let them doubt if there are spirits; Still they are in our dominion. And to-day you'll see me leading Someone far astray to show him That the spirits are in numbers." From the hill came Master Werner. Deeply musing o'er his love-dream He had wandered through the forest, And as far as man is happy Here below, he was; and buoyant Hope and joy his heart were filling. Many burning thoughts were passing Through his brain, as if they shortly Into love-songs might be growing, Just as caterpillars later Into butterflies develop. Homeward now he would be turning; But the wood-sprite Meysenhartus Hid with dust the right path from him, And young Werner, absent-minded, 'Stead of river-ward went inland. Now again the wood-sprite grinning Clambered to the fir-tree's summit, Rocking gaily in the branches. "He is caught!" so said he, mocking. Werner paying no attention, Went up through the Hasel valley, Till he came to a steep mountain, To a corner cool and shady. Holly, sloe, and climbing ivy Grew around the rocks luxuriant, While near by a clear spring rippled.