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The Poems of Goethe-Part55_JOHANN W. GOETHE (1749-1832)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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Thus to his wife the host of the Golden Lion discoursed,

Sitting at ease in the porch of his house adjoining the market.



Then replied as follows the shrewd and sensible hostess

"Father, I don't like giving old linen away, for I find it



Useful in so many ways, 'tis not to he purchased for money

Just when it's wanted. And yet to-day I gladly have given



Many excellent articles, shirts and covers and suchlike;

For I have heard of old people and children walking half-naked.



Will you forgive me, too, for having ransacked your presses?

That grand dressing-gown, cover'd with Indian flowers all over,



Made of the finest calico, lined with excellent flannel,

I have despatch'd with the rest; 'tis thin, old, quite out of fashion."



But the worthylandlord only smiled, and then answer'd

I shall dreadfully miss that ancient calico garment,



Genuine Indian stuff! They're not to be had any longer.

Well! I shall wear it no more. And your poor husband henceforward



Always must wear a surtout, I suppose, or commonplace jacket,

Always must put on his boots; good bye to cap and to slippers!"



"See," continued his wife, "a few are already returning

Who have seen the procession, which long ago must have pass'd by.



See how dusty their shoes are, and how their faces are glowing

Each one carries a handkerchief, wiping the sweat from his forehead.



I, for one, wouldn't hurry and worry myself in such weather

Merely to see such a sight! I'm certain to hear all about it."



And the worthy father, speaking with emphasis, added

"Such fine weather seldom lasts through the whole of the harvest



And we're bringing the fruit home, just as the hay we brought lately,

Perfectly dry; the sky is clear, no cloud's in the heavens,



And the whole day long deliciousbreezes are blowing.

Splendid weather I call it! The corn already too ripe is,



And to-morrow begin we to gather the plentiful harvest."

Whilst he was thus discoursing, the number of men and of women



Crossing the market and going towards home kept ever increasing;

And there return'd amongst others, bringing with him his daughters,



On the other side of the market, their prosperous neighbour,

Going full speed to his newbuilt house, the principal merchant,



Riding inside an open carriage (in Landau constructed).

All the streets were alive; for the town, though small, was well peopled,



Many a factory throve there, and many a business also.

Long sat the excellent couple under the doorway, exchanging



Many a passing remark on the people who happen'd to pass them.

Presently thus to her husband exclaim'd the good-natured hostess



"See! Yon comes the minister; with him is walking the druggist:

They'll be able to give an account of all that has happen'd,



What they witness'd, and many a sight I fear which was painful."

Both of them came in a friendly manner, and greeted the couple,



Taking their seats on the wooden benches under the doorway,

Shaking the dust from their feet, their handkerchiefs using to fan them.



Presently, after exchanging reciprocal greetings, the druggist

Open'd his mouth, and almost peevishly vented his feelings



"What strange creatures men are! They all resemble each other,

All take pleasure in staring, when troubles fall on their neighbours.



Ev'ry one runs to see the flames destroying a dwelling,

Or a poor criminal led in terror and shame to the scaffold.



All the town has been out to gaze at the sorrowing exiles,

None of them bearing in mind that a like misfortune hereafter,



Possibly almost directly, may happen to be their own portion.

I can't pardon such levity; yet 'tis the nature of all men."



Thereupon rejoin'd the noble and excellent pastor,

He, the charm of the town, in age scarce more than a stripling:--



(He was acquainted with life, and knew the wants of his hearers,

Fully convinced of the worth of the Holy Scriptures, whose mission



Is to reveal man's fate, his inclinations to fathom;

He was also well read in the best of secular writings.)



"I don't like to find fault with any innocent impulse

Which in the mind of man Dame Nature has ever implanted;






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