FIRST.

No, brother, no, such restraint I detest;
Look sharp to the chase, lest we lose the prey;

The hand that has twirled all the Saturday
The mop, on the Sunday caresses the best.

CITIZEN.

No, the new Burgomaster I cannot admire;
Since he's been so he holds his head every day higher.

And what for the good of the town has he done?

Day after day things are going worse on.

We the laws must more strictly than ever obey,
And heavier rates than before we must pay.

Beggar sings.

Ye gentlemen and ladies bright,

With rosy cheeks and gallant dress,

Look upon me, a piteous sight,

And mark and soften my distress.

Ah, do not scorn my humble lay,

Light heart is his whose hand is free;

To-day to you is Holiday;

Let it be Harvest day to me.

ANOTHER CITIZEN.

On Sundays and on Holidays my delight
Is to converse of battle, blood and fight,

Where in the wilds of Turkey, distant far,*
The savage people are engaged in war.

One looks from out the window, sips betimes,
Sees down the stream the painted vessels glide;
Then glad returning home at eventide,

Blessings calls down on peace and peaceful times.

THIRD CITIZEN.

Yes, neighbour, on that point I'm clear,
Let them break heads abroad at will,
And scatter ruin far and near,

So that at home all remains quiet still.

* At the period when this scene is laid, Turkish power engrossed the attention of all Europe. Selim the First had driven back the Persian power to the Euphrates and Tigris. He defeated the Mamelukes, and conquered in 1517 Egypt, Syria, and Palestine. Solyman the Magnificent in 1522 took Rhodes from the Knights of St. John; and by the victory of Mohacz in 1526, subdued half Hungary, exacted a tribute from Moldavia, and was so successful against the Persians, as to make Bagdad, Mesopotamia, and Georgia, subject to him. He threatened to overrun Germany, and was only prevented by a repulse under the walls of Vienna in 1529. The successful corsair Barbarossa was master of the Mediterranean, had conquered Africa, and laid waste Minorca, Sicily, Apulia, and Corfu.

OLD WOMAN-to the Citizens' Daughters.

How smart we are, how pretty too;
Who would not fall in love with you?
Only keep pride from off your mind,
What you want I know where to find.

BURGER MADCHEN.

Come, Agatha, come, let no one see
Us in such witch-like company;

On St. Andrew's night* she shewed to me
My future lover bodily.

THE OTHER.

Mine, as a soldier, in the glass,

With other bold fellows, she shewed to me;

I look for him everywhere, but alas,

His face again I can never see.

"It is believed that a maiden can invite and see her future beloved upon St. Andrew's night, St. Thomas's night, Christmas night, and New Year's night. A table must be laid for two, but there must be no forks there. Whatever the lover leaves behind him at his departure must be carefully gathered up; he comes then to her who keeps it, and loves her warmly. He must, however, never see it again, else he remembers the torture that he suffered on that night from supernatural power, and becomes aware of the incantation, whence great evil arises."-Grimm. deutsche Sagen, No. 114.

SOLDIERS.

Wall-girt town, tall parapet,

High soul'd maid, with scornful eyes, On such prize my heart is set;

Gallant is the enterprise,

Glorious is the prize.

Rise we to the trumpet's breath,
As for pleasure, so for death;
Thus is life in storm revealed,

Maids and towns alike must yield.

Gallant is the enterprise,

Glorious is the prize.

And the soldiers, bold and gay,

March away.

FAUST AND WAGNER.

FAUST.

Now stream and streamlet both from ice are clear, At the sweet glances of the opening year, Inspiring life in all things, green and bright, Grows in the valley, Hope's delight.

And now the ancient winter in his weakness Draws himself back into his mountain bleakness. Thence sends he nothing from his far retreat, But showers of little power of hail and sleet;

G

O'er the green meads in patches light,
But the sun endures no white.

Everywhere growth and formation is rife,

All with

gay colours will flush into life;

Though imperfect the landscape, its flowers without,
It fills up their places with mortals decked out.
Turn about on this gentle rise,

On the city behind you to cast back your eyes;
See from the dark gate's cavities,

Issuing out what a motley swarm,
Rejoicing each in the sunshine warm.
They keep the day of the Lord arisen,
For they themselves have broken from prison.
From lowly houses, chambers, small

And dull, from work and traffic's thrall,
From gables and garrets' oppressive heat,

From the jostling of the close-pent street,
From the churches' solemn night,

All of them are brought to light.

See, only see, how the hurrying rout,

Scattered o'er garden and meadow are roving, O'er the length and the breadth of the stream spread about,

How many joy-freighted wherries are moving.*

* Presuming that the scene is laid in Ingoldstadt, the river would be the Danube.