The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Vi Part 55

GARCERAN. It sometimes seems she does, and then does not.

A shallow mind ne'er worries for the morrow.

KING. Of course thou didst not hesitate to throw To her the bait of words, as is thy wont?

How did she take it, pray?

GARCERAN. Not badly, Sire.

KING. Thou liest! But in truth thou'rt lucky, boy!

And hover'st like a bird in cheerful skies, And swoopest down wherever berries lure, And canst adjust thyself at the first glance.

I am a King; my very word brings fear.

Yet I, were I the first time in my life To stand in woman's presence, fear should know!

How dost begin? Pray, teach me what to do; I am a novice in such arts as these, And nothing better than a grown-up child.

Dost sigh?

GARCERAN. Oh, Sire, how sadly out of date!

KING. Well then, dost gaze? Does then Squire Gander gawk Till Lady Goose-quill gawks again? Is't so?

And next, I ween, thou takest up thy lute, And turning towards the balcony, as here, Thou singst a croaking song, to which the moon, A yellow pander, sparkles through the trees; The flowers sweet intoxicate the sense, Till now the proper opportunity Arrives--the father, brother--spouse, perhaps-- Has left the house on similar errand bent.

And now the handmaid calls you gently: "Pst!"

You enter in, and then a soft, warm hand Takes hold of yours and leads you through the halls, Which, endless as the gloomy grave, spur on The heightened wish, until, at last, the musk, The softened lights that come through curtains' folds, Do tell you that your charming goal is reached.

The door is ope'd, and bright, in candle gleam, On velvet dark, with limbs all loosed in love, Her snow-white arm enwrapped in ropes of pearls, Your darling leans with gently drooping head, The golden locks--no, no, I say they're black-- Her raven locks--and so on to the end!

Thou seest, Garceran, I learn right well, And Christian, Mooress, Jewess, 'tis the same.

GARCERAN. We frontier warriors prize, for lack of choice, Fair Moorish women, but the Jewess, Sire,--

KING. Pretend thou not to pick and choose thy fare!

I wager, if the maiden there above Had given thee but a glance, thou'dst be aflame.

I love it not, this folk, and yet I know That what disfigures it, is our own work; We lame them, and are angry when they limp, And yet, withal, this wandering shepherd race Has something great about it, Garceran.

We are today's, we others; but their line Runs from Creation's cradle, where our G.o.d, In human form, still walked in Paradise, And cherubim were guests of patriarchs, And G.o.d alone was judge, and was the law.

Within this fairy world there is the truth Of Cain and Abel, of Rebecca's craft, Of Rachel, who by Jacob's service wooed-- How hight this maiden?

GARCERAN. Sire, I know not.

KING. Oh!

Of great King Ahasuerus, who his hand Stretched out o'er Esther; she, though Jewess, was His wife, and, like a G.o.d, preserved her race.

Christian and Moslem both their lineage trace Back to this folk, as oldest and as first; Thus they have doubts of us, not we of them.

And though, like Esau, it has sold its right, We ten times daily crucify our G.o.d By grievous sins and by our vile misdeeds-- The Jews have crucified him only once!

Now let us go! Or, rather, stay thou here; Conduct her hence, and mark well where she lives.

Perhaps some time, when worn by weary cares, I'll visit her, and there enjoy her thanks.

(_About to go, he hears a noise in the house and stops._)

What is't?

GARCERAN. Confusion in the house; it seems Almost as if they bring thy praise to naught; Among themselves they quarrel--

KING (_going to the house_).

What about?

_ISAAC comes from the garden-house._

ISAAC (_speaking back into the house_).

Stay then, and risk your heads, if so ye will, You've nearly lost them once. I'll save myself.

KING. Ask what he means.

GARCERAN. My good man, tell, how now?

ISAAC (_to_ GARCERAN).

Ah, Sir, it is then you, our guardian!

My little Rachel speaks of you so oft; She likes you.

KING. To the point. What babbling this--

ISAAC. Who is this lord?

GARCERAN. It makes no difference. Speak!

What is the cause of all that noise above?

ISAAC (_speaking up to the window_).

Look out, you're going to catch it--now look out!

(_To_ GARCERAN.)

Yourself have seen my little Rachel-girl, And how she wept and groaned and beat her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, As if half crazed. Of course you have, my life!-- She hardly knew the danger had been pa.s.sed When back again her old high spirits came; She laughed, and danced, and sang; half mad again She shoved awry the sacred furniture By dead men watched, and raves--as now you hear.

Hangs from her girdle not a chatelaine?

Her keys she tries in every closet lock, And opens all the doors along the wall.

There hang within all sorts of things to wear, And angels, devils, beggars vie with kings In gay attire--

KING (_aside to_ GARCERAN).

Our carnival costumes.

ISAAC. She chose, herself, a plumed crown from these,-- It was not gold, but only gilded tin-- One tells it by the weight, worth twenty pence; About her shoulders throws a trained robe And says she is the queen--

(_Speaking back._)

Oh yes, thou fool!

Then in the ante-chamber next, there hangs A picture of the King, whom G.o.d preserve!

She takes it from the wall, bears it about, Calling it husband with endearing words, And holds it to her breast.

[KING _goes hastily toward the garden house._]

GARCERAN. Oh, mighty Sire!

ISAAC (_stepping back_).