Gaudeamus! Humorous Poems Part 7

Ah me! what a dull day it is!

If I go out in the wood on the mountain When the tops s.h.i.+ne in the earliest sunlight, Ah! there still lingers the dry heat of yestern On the singed mosses and withering shrubs, And all around me come midges by thousands, Stinging and bold, As if the hot sun were sprinkling in sparkles.

Wide gaping crevices split the earth round us; Gra.s.s dries to hay before they can mow it, And in the air sweeps _Dust_ ....

Ah me! what a dull day it is!

If I seek by the trunk of the giant-grown beech-tree A cool place to sit on the rough-hewn stone bench, Where by the eight-cornered slab of the table The brethren merrily rest in the forest, Ah! there the stone rays a heat that is horrible, Cannot endure me!

All because I, when just seated, so nimbly Jumped in a hurry.

Gra.s.shoppers sit, sound asleep, by the road-side Quiet as can be.

_Dull_ ....

Ah me! what a dull day it is!

These are the times, hey, when people and cattle Are scorching red-hot like the irons in a smithy!

Pour on them drops or long floods of cold water, All would be swallowed and nothing be quenched.

Ah!--hey!--the matin bell still is a-ringing, And I'm seized with a powerful yearning already To go to the cloister, and down to the cellar!

Whether I'll tarry there steadily drinking Until the night comes, Or a loud clattering thunder in heaven Breaks up this wearisome terrible heat, I don't know, Only my thirst is _Dreadful_ ....

Ah me! what a dull day it is.

THE MAULBRONN FUGUE.

--'Wem das Kloster Maulbrunn bekandt, der hats konnen mit seinen Augen sehen, wie in dem Vorhoff selbiger schonen erbauten Kirchen oben im Schwibbogen unter anderen Gemalden auch eine Gans abgemalt steht, an welcher eine Flasch, Bratwurst, Bratsp.i.s.s und dergleichen hangen, neben einer zur na.s.sen Andacht gar wohl componirten Fuga folgenden Tenors mit ihrem unterlegten Text, gleichwohl nur den initialibus literis A. V. K.

L. W. H. welches villeicht dieser durstigen Munch und Religiosen Commentarius gewest, uber das Hohelied Salomonis: Comedite amici et bibite et inebriamini charissimi, &c., &c.'--Tob. Wagner, Evangel.

Censur der Besoldischen Motiven, &c. Tubingen, 1640.

[Ill.u.s.tration: All Voll Keiner Leer Wein Her]

[English.] He who knows the Abbey Maulbrunn may have seen with his own eyes how in the fore court of this beautifully built church, above in the double arch, there is painted, among other pictures, that of a goose by which hang a bottle, sausages, a roasting spit, and like things, near a well-composed fugue adapted to wet devotion, on the following theme, with the subjoined text, although with only the initial letters

A. V. K. L. W. H.

Or Alle Voll, Keiner Leer, Wein Her! meaning "All full, No one empty, Bring Wine here!"--which was perhaps the commentary of these thirsty monks and pious men on the Canticle of Solomon: Comedite amici et bibite et inebriamini charissimi, &c, &c.--Tobias Wagner, Evangel.

Censur der Besoldischen Motiven, &c. Tubingen, 1640.

Im Winterrefectorium Zu Maulbronn in dem Kloster Da geht was um den Tisch herum Klingt nicht wie Paternoster; Die Martinsgans hat woklgethan, Eilfinger blinkt im Kruge, Nun hebt die na.s.se Andacht an Und alles singt die Fuge: A. V. K. L. W. H.

Complete Pocula!

In the winter refectorium Of Maulbronn, in the cloister, One hears a merry sound and hum, Not like a paternoster.

The Martin's goose has tasted well, Eilfinger wine they're bringing; Now let the wet devotion swell, While all the fugue are singing: A. V. K. L. W. H.

Complete Pocula!

The Abbot Duckfoot--Holy John, Came waddling in and grumbling: 'What is't so late, when the feast is done, To fiddles ye are mumbling?

Cease! ye disturb the Doctor Faust, In the garden tower behind there; If from his studies he be roused, No gold will he e'er find there.

A. V. K. L. W. H.

Cavete scandala!'

Herr Faust sat backwards by the wall, Alone with pleasure-drinking, But now the sorcerer, pale and tall, Held forth the wine red blinking.

Said he: 'I've studied making gold, By magic sought to win it; But now I see that I am sold, And that there's nothing in it.

A. V. K. L. W. H.

This is the gold--aha!

'I find from Hermes Trismegist Gold yields itself unwilling; The sun is the true alchemist, All fluidly distilling.

When through our veins 't has glowed and relled; With Eilfinger we try it; Then you have gold, have real gold, And honourably come by it.

A. V. K. L. W. H.

Haec vera practica!'

Then laughed the Abbot. 'That sounds fair; It sets me too to drinking, For All Voll, Keiner Leer, Wein Her!

Is a wet fugue, I'm thinking.

As Faust's gold-proverb it shall be Painted by the officials In the transept. All the melody Is found in the initials.

A. V. K. L. W. H.

Sit vino gloria!'

DER ENDERLE VON KETSCH.

This ballad is founded on an incident narrated in the description of the Palatinate by Merian (1645), where, speaking of the village Ketsch, he tells us that--'The Counte Palatine Otto Heinrich, afterwards Kurfurst, sailed in the yeere 1530 to the Holie Lande and to Jerusalem.

Returning thence, hee came over the greate open sea where a s.h.i.+pp from Norwaie mett him, and from it there came this crye: "Flye, flye, for ye fatt Enderle von Ketsch cometh!" Now, the Counte Palatine and his Chancellor Muckenhauser knew a G.o.dless wretche of this name who dwelte at Ketsch, and therefore whenn they returned home they inquired of ye fatt Enderle and of the tyme of his deathe, and observed that itt agreed withe the tyme whenn they did heare the crye upon ye sea, as Weyland, a Professor of Heidelberg; hath narrated in divers wrytings which hee left behinde.'

The translator has endeavoured to give this version of the extract from Merian in English corresponding to the style of the original old German.

Jetzt weicht, jetzt flieht! Jetzt weicht, jetzt flieht Mit Zittern und Zahnegefletsch: Jetzt weicht, jetzt flieht! Wir singen das Lied Vom Enderle von Ketsch!

CHORUS.

'Away--along! Away--along!

With, trembling, your jaws on the stretch.

Away--along! We sing the song Of Enderle von Ketsch!

SOLO.

Ott Heinrich the Pfalzgrave of Rhine--oh!

Spoke out of a morning; 'Rem blem!

I'm tired of the sour Hock wine--oh!

I'm off for Jerusalem.

'Far lovelier, neater, and nicer Are the maids there who give you the cup; Oh, Chancellor! oh, Muckenhauser, Five thousand gold ducats pack up.'

And as before Joppa they anch.o.r.ed The Chancellor held up his hand: 'Now drain to the dregs your last tankard, For the ducats are come to an end.'

Ott Heinrich said, 'Well, and no wonder,-- Rem blem! what remains to be seen!

We'll paddle for Cyprus out yonder, And make a small raise on the Queen.'

But just as the galley was dancing By Cyprus, in beautiful night, A storm o'er the billows came prancing, With thunder and flashes of light.

In a ghastly wild glare, by the landing, A black s.h.i.+p came rus.h.i.+ng along; There a ghost in his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves was standing, And howling a horrible song.