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“Next mornin’ off dey shtarted, apout de broke of day,
Den he led her to a castle in de woods and far away,
And shpeak to her, ‘My lady – I dink at last you see
Dat de dime has come in earnesdt vhen you’ve cot to vollow me!’

“Oh vat ish female nature? Oh vat ish mortal pride?
How all dot shtands de firmest most quickly shlips aside
De cloudts dot o’er de moundains look shkornful at de plain,
Ere long mit shtormy wetter come toomble down in rain.

“So de storm-cloud of Superbia vhich shweep her soul above,
Vas meltet mit his shternness and be-turnèd into love,
As his words like donner wetter croshed ven de lightnin’ flies,
So downward coom de torrents of dear trops from her eyes.

“Und she gry, ‘Mit shame I own it, to say de fery least,
I gonfess dat in dis matter I hafe acted like a peast;
Ven I made of you my refuse, I dinked it no account,
But now de pack is on my back it seems a big amount.

“‘But if you vish to ved me, I vill do vat you require.
He answered, ‘ Now you’re talkin’ – dot is yoost vot I tesire,
For I am very willin’, and you do not refuse,
Boot remember vot you bromised – send de vitch a pair of shoes!’

“She answered, ‘I vill follow verever you may go,
All ofer hills and falleys, in sunshine, rain, or schnow,
All over in der Welt, dear, I’ll vander on vith thee,
I do not care how rough de road or dark de path may be!

“‘Or in de bloomin’ meadows, vhere de grass is soft and sweet,
Or in de rocky passes, vhere de stones are under veet,
Or if I vear de shoes, love, vitch you hafe given me,
Or if I moost go barefoot, is all de same to me.’

“He drew away de gaiters. She said, ‘As I’m rich
I vill fill dem both mit money, and take dem to de vitch.’
Ja wohl, she saw die Hexe, and takin’ her aside,
She danked her for de lesson vot hat dook avay her pride.

“On de vay vhen dey vere married, how vere dey all erstaun
To see a lofely lady come in mit golden crown,
All in a rosy-silken dress vot shined as pright as glass,
Said, ‘My dears, I am de vitch dot fetch dis ding to pass.

“‘You know I look so ogly vonce, und now am peautiful,
Dot ist de vay dot all dings vork ven folks pe dutiful.
Ash de lily toorns to vhitey vot once vas dirty green,
So all ist fair ven virdue ist runnin’ de machine.'”

Dis is de vondrous shtory vot de Ritter Breitmann told
Besides the rooshin’ Danube of de schloss so grey und old,
Vhile a shmokin’ of his meerschaum; und till all time pe gone
The rustlin’ of de vasser tells de tale for ever on.

Dat is an alt legende, und yet ’tis efer new,
Und to efery von dot hears it it fits yoost like a shoe.
Und dis de shinin’ moral dot in de oyster lies-
Some day you may roon after de dings you vonce despise!

Vienna, 1888.

FOOTNOTE 1.
Woppenshield, coat of arms.