Part 5

Apo je wa'wer divesseste Schunava pro gilaviben, M'akana me avava, Pro marzos, pro kuriben.

So korava kuribente, So korava apre drom; Me kanav miri romni, So kamela la lakero rom.

DRANSLATION.

I hear de gock a growin! I hear de musikant! Gott gife dee a happy shourney Vhen you go to a distand landt.

I hears oopon de pranches A pird mit merry shdrain, Goot many tays moost fanish Ere I coom to dis blace again.

Oopon some oder tay-times I'll hear dat song from dee; Boot now I goes ash soldier To war, o'er de rollin sea.

Und vot I shdeals in pattle, Und vot on de road I shdeal, I'll pring all to my true lofe Who lofes her lofer so well.

STEINLI VON SLANG.

DER watchman look out from his tower Ash de Abendgold glimmer grew dim, Und saw on de road troo de Gauer Ten shpearmen coom ridin to him: Und he schvear: "May I lose my next bitter, Und denn mit der Teufel go hang! If id isn't dat pully young Ritter, De hell-drivin Steinli von Slang.

"De vorldt nefer had any such man, He vights like a sturm in its wrath: You may call me a recular Dutchman, If he arn't like Goliath of Gath. He ish big ash de shiant O'Brady, More ash sefen feet high on a string, Boot he can't vin de hearts of my lady, De lofely Plectruda von Sling."

De lady make welcome her gast in, Ash he shtep to de dop of de shtair, She look like an angel got lost in A forest of audumn-prown hair. Und a bower-maiden said ash she tarried: "I wish I may bust mit a bang! If id isn't a shame she ain't married To der her-re-liche Steinli von Slang!"

He pows to de cround fore de lady, Vhile his vace ish ash pale ash de tead; Und she vhispers oonto him a rede Ash mit arrow point accents, she said: "You hafe long dimes peen dryin to win me, You hafe vight, and mine braises you sing, Boot I'm 'fraid dat de notion aint in me, De Lady Plectruda von Sling.

"Boot brafehood teserves a reward, sir; Dough you've hardly a chost of a shanse. Sankt Werolf! medinks id ish hard, sir, I should allaweil lead you dis dance." Like a bees vhen it it booz troo de clofer, Dese murmurin accents she flang, Vhile singin, a stingin her lofer, Der woe-moody Ritter von Slang.

"Boot if von ding you do, I'll knock under, Our droples moost endin damit Und if you pull troo it,- by donder! I'll own myself euchred, und bit. I schvear py de holy Sanct Chlody! Py mine honor-und avery ding! You may hafe me-soul, puttons und pody, Mit de whole of Plectruda von Sling."

"Und dish ish de test of your power:- Vhile ve shtand ourselfs round in a row, You moost roll from de dop of dis tower, Down shdairs to de valley pelow. Id ish rough and shteep ash my virtue:" (Mit schwanenshweet accents she sang:) "Tont try if you dinks id vill hurt you, Mine goot liddle Ritter von Slang."

An Moormoor arosed mong de beoples; In fain tid she doorn in her shkorn, Der vatchman on dop of de shdeeples Plowed a sorryfool doon on his horn. Ash dey look down de dousand-foot treppe, Dey schveared dey vouldt pass on de ding, Und not roll down de firstest tam steppe For a hoondred like Fraulein von Sling.

II.

'Twas audumn. De dry leafs vere bustlin Und visperin deir elfin wild talk, Vhen shlow, mit his veet in dem rustlin, Herr Steinli coomed out for a walk. Wild dooks vly afar in de gloamin, He hear a vaint gry vrom de gang; Und vished he vere off mit dem roamin: De heart-wounded Ritter Von Slang.

Und ash he vent musin und shbeakin, He se, shoost ahead in his vay, In sinkular manner a streakin, A strange liddle bein, in cray, Who toorned on him quick mit a holler, Und cuttin a dwo bigeon ving, Cried, "Say, can you change me a thaler, Oh, guest of de Lady von Sling?"

De knight vas a goot-nadured veller, (De peggars all knowed him at sight,) So he forked out each groschen und heller, Dill he fix de finances aright. Boot shoost ash de liddle man vent, he, (Der Ritter,) ashtonished cried "Dang!" For id vasn't von thaler boot tventy, He'd passed on der Ritter von Slang.

O reater! Soopose soosh a vlight in De vingers of me, or of you, How we'd toorned on our heels, und gon kitin Dill no von vos left to pursue! Good Lort! how we'd froze to de ready! Boot mit him 'dvas a different ding; For he vent on de high, moral steady, Dis lofer of Fraulein von Sling.

Und dough no von vill gife any gredit To dis part of mine dale, shdill id's drue, He drafelled ash if he vould dead it, Dis liddle oldt man to pursue. Und loudly he after him hollers, Till de vales mit de cliffers loud rang: "You hafe gifed me nine-ten too moosh dollars, Hold Hard!" cried der Ritter von Slang.

De oldt man ope his eyes like a casement, Und laid a cold hand on his prow, Denn mutter in ootmosdt amazement, "Vot manner of mordal art dou? I hafe lifed in dis world a yar tausend, Und nefer yed met soosh a ding! Yet you find it hart vork to pe spouse, and Peloved by de Lady von Sling!

"Und she vant you to roll from de tower Down shteps to yon rifulet spot." (Here de knight, whom amazement o'erbower, Cried, "Himmels potz pumpen Herr Gott!") Boot de oldt veller saidt: "I'll arrange it, Let your droples und sorrows co hang! Und nodings vill coom to derange it- Pet high on it, Ritter von Slang.

"So get oop dis small oonderstandin, Dat to-morrow by ten, do you hear? You'll pe mit your trunk at de landin; I'll also be dere-nefer fear! Und I dinks we shall make your young voman A new kind of meloty sing; Dat vain, wicked, cruel, unhuman, Gott-tamnaple Fraulein von Sling."

De fiolet shdars vere apofe him, Vhite moths und vhite dofes shimmered round, All nature seemed seekin to lofe him, Mit perfume und vision und sound. De liddle oldt veller hat fanished, In a harp-like, melotious twang; Und mit him all sorrow vas panished Afay from der Steinli von Slang.

III.

Id vas morn, und de vorldt hat assempled Mid panners und lances und dust, Boot de heart of de Paroness trempled, Und ofden her folly she cussed. For she found dat der Ritter vould do it, Und "die or get into de Ring," Und denn she'd pe cerdain to rue it, Aldough she vas Lady von Sling.