Bursch Groggneburg

[After the manner of Schiller.]

"Bursch!if foaming beer content ye, Come and drink your fill; In our cellars there is plenty; Himmel! how you swill! That the liquor hath allurance, Well I understand; But 'tis really past endurance, When you squeeze my hand!"

And he heard her as if dreaming, Heard her half in awe; Andthe meerschaum's smoke came streaming From his open jaw: And his pulse heat somewhat quicker Than it did before, And he finished off his liquor, Staggered through the door;

Bolted off direct to Munich, And within the year Underneath his German tunic Stowed whole butts of beer. And he drank like fifty fishes, Drank till all was blue; For he felt extremely vicious-- Somewhat thirsty too.

But at length this dire deboshing Drew towards an end; Few of all his silver groschen Had he left to spend. And he knew it was not prudent Longer to remain; So, with weary feet, the student Wended home again.

At the tavern's well-known portal Knocks he as before, And awaiter, rather mortal, Hiccups through the door-- "Master's sleeping in the kitchen You'll alarm the house; Yesterday the Jungfrau Fritchen Married baker Kraus!"

Like a fiery comet bristling, Rose the young man's hair, And, poor soul! he fell a-whistling Out of sheer despair. Down the gloomy street in silence, Savage-calm he goes; But he did no deed of vi'lence-- Only blew his nose.

Then he hired an airy garret Near her dwelling-place; Grew a beard of fiercest carrot, Never washed his face; Sate all day beside the casement, Sate a dreary man; Found in smoking such an easement As the wretched can;

Stared for hours and hours together. Stared yet more and more; Tillin fine and sunny weather. At the baker's door, Stood, in apron white and mealy, That beloved dame, Counting out the loaves so freely, Selling of the same.

Then like a volcano puffing, Smoked he out his pipe; Sighed and supped on ducks and stuffing, Ham and kraut and tripe; Went to bed, and, in the morning, Waited as before, Still his eyes in anguish turning To the baker's door;

Till, with apron white and mealy, Came the lovely dame, Counting out the loaves so freely, Selling of the same. So one day--the fact's amazing!-- On his post he died! And they found the body gazing At the baker's bride.