And changeth into joy her woe.
"Well, of a truth I commend your prudence," the pastor continued"Not for ourselves are we wooing! To woo for others is serious."So they started to meet the worthy magistrate seeingHow in the course of his business he was ascending the main street.And the wise pastor straightway address'd him with foresight as follows"We, by-the-bye, have just seen a girl in the neighbouring gardenUnder an apple-tree sitting, and clothes for the children preparing,Made of worn calico, which for the purpose was doubtless presented.We were pleased by her face; she appears to be one of the right sort.Tell us, what know you about her? We ask from a laudable motive."
Then the son thoughtfully answer'd:--"I know not why, but the fact isMy annoyance has graven itself in my mind, and hereafterI could not bear at the piano to see her, or list to her singing."
But alms he refuses to give.He seizes her hand, with a smile in his eye:
COVER thy spacious heavens, Zeus,With clouds of mist,And, like the boy who lopsThe thistles' heads,Disport with oaks and mountain-peaks,Yet thou must leaveMy earth still standing;My cottage too, which was not raised by thee;Leave me my hearth,Whose kindly glowBy thee is envied.
'Tis hope guides that dear maid.
And jests both new and rare.
Of my joys the partner dear!Mindful, though, of sorrows past,
From a desert, rocky spot;For the fray they couch their lances,
THOUGH tempers are bad and peevish folks swear,Remember to ruffle thy brows, friend, ne'er;And let not the fancies of women so fairE'er serve thy pleasure in life to impair.
Than the dearly loved-one's hatred.