Oh, of a truth, if the strength of the German youths was collected On the frontier, all bound by a vow not to yield to the stranger, He on our noble soil should never set foot, or be able Under our eyes to consume the fruits of the land, or to issue Orders unto our men, or despoil our women and maidens!
See, good mother, within my inmost heart I've determined Soon and straightway to do what seems to me right and becoming;For the man who thinks long, not always chooses what best is.
See, I will not return to the house, but will go from here straightway Into the town, and there will place at the fighters' disposal This stout arm and this heart, to serve, as I best can, my country.
Then let my father say whether feelings of honour are stirring In my bosom or not, and whether I yearn to mount upwards."Then with significance answer'd his good and sensible mother, Shedding tears in silence, which easily rose in her eyelids:--"Son, what has wrought so strange a change in your temper and feelings, That you freely and openly speak to your mother no longer, As you till yesterday did, nor tell her truly your wishes?
If another had heard you speaking, he doubtless would praise you Highly, and deem your new resolution as worthy of honour, Being deceived by your words, and by your manner of speaking.
I however can only blame you. I know you much better.
You are concealing your heart, and very diff'rent your thoughts are;For I am sure you care not at all for drum and for trumpet, Nor, to please the maidens, care you to wear regimentals.
For, though brave you may be, and gallant, your proper vocation Is to remain at home, the property quietly watching.
Therefore tell me truly: What means this sudden decision?"Earnestly answer'd the son:--"You are wrong, dear-mother, one day is Unlike another. The youth soon ripens into his manhood.
Ofttimes he ripens better to action in silence than living That tumultuous noisy life which ruins so many.
And though silent I have been, and am, a heart has been fashion'd Inside my bosom, which hates whatever unfair and unjust is, And I am able right well to discriminate secular matters.
Work moreover my arms and my feet has mightily strengthen'd.
All that I tell you is true; I boldly venture to say so.
And yet, mother, you blame me with reason; you've caught me employing Words that are only half true, and that serve to conceal my true feelings.
For I must need confess, it is not the advent of danger Calls me away from my father's house, nor a resolute purpose Useful to be to my country, and dreaded to be by the foeman.
Words alone it was that I utter'd,--words only intended Those deep feelings to hide, which within my breast are contending.
And now leave me, my mother! For as in my bosom I cherish Wishes that are but vain, my life will be to no purpose.
For I know that the Unit who makes a self-sacrifice, only Injures himself, unless all endeavour the Whole to accomplish.""Now continue," replied forthwith his sensible mother:--"Tell me all that has happen'd, the least as w'ell as the greatest Men are always hasty, and only remember the last thing, And the hasty are easily forced from the road by obstructions.
But a woman is skillful, and full of resources, and scorns not Bye-roads to traverse when needed, well-skill'd to accomplish her purpose.
Tell me then all, and why you are stirr'd by such violent feelings More than I ever have seen, while the blood is boiling within you, And from your eyes the tears against your will fain would fall now."Then the youth gave way to his sorrow, and burst into weeping, Weeping aloud on the breast of his mother, and softly replying "Truly, my father's words to-day have wounded me sadly, Never have I deserved at his hands such treatment,--no, never!
For to honour my parents was always my wish from my childhood, No one ever appear'd so prudent and wise as my parents, Who in the darker days of childhood carefully watch'd me.
Much indeed it has been my lot to endure from my playmates, When with their knavish pranks they used to embitter my temper.
Often I little suspected the tricks they were playing upon me:
But if they happen'd to ridicule Father, whenever on Sundays Out of church he came with his slow deliberate footsteps, If they laugh'd at the strings of his cap, and his dressing-gown's flowers, Which he in stately wise wore, and to-day at length has discarded, Then in a fury I clench'd my fist, and, storming and raging, Fell upon them and hit and struck with terrible onslaught, Heedless where my blows fell. With bleeding noses they halloed, And could scarcely escape from the force of my blows and my kicking.
