Simrock, the Rhine Poet [pp. 425-428]

SIMROCK, THE RHINVE POET.
427
My chamber is too holy for thee, polluted dame; is retained, except that two syllables are added
Bear hence thine injured children! God sends thee double shame." to the sixth verse of each stanza.
The spotless beggar-mother in innocence and pride,
Raising her eyes to heaven, with voice prophetic cried:
"That God may send thee, lady, a babe for every day
Of this thy cruel bridal year, most earnestly I pray."
The prophecy was spoken, the prophet no one knewBut as-the mournful years went by the lady found it true.
Three hundred five and sixty, the days of every year;
Three hundred five and sixty the Countess' children were.
The girls were named Elizabeth, the boys were all called John;
They still point out to strangers the old baptismal stone.
The children all were godly, and when their lives were past,
Through faith in Christ the Savior were brought to heaven at last.
From Hague they all lie buried less than a mile away,
And those who doubt may see their graves even at the present
day.
The following is likewise very popular, although it brought upon Simrock, himself a
Roman Catholic, the ill-will of the Catholic
population. His answer to them was, that he
should not be held responsible for a legend
which had been in existence many hundred
years. The foundation of the legend is the
following: The inhabitants of Bonn gravely
assert that, in front of the old Jesuits' church,
in Boungasse of their city, the wind is constantly blowing, however quiet it may be elsewhere. The street is very narrow and short,
and the buildings very highl, thus fulfilling very
nearly the conditions of a first-class smoke
funnel, where there is supposed to be a constant wind. It is not strictly true, however,
that there is always a wind before this church,
although very generally, perhaps, a current of
air may be felt. The translation was made by
Pleimis, and very nearly retains the original
meter.
THE DEVIL AND THE WIND.
In Bonn before the Jesuits' church the wind unceasing blows.
How comes it'? in the city there's not a child but knows.
The little one there playing will tell, if you've a mind,
I-low the devil went a walking one morning with the wind.
When near the Jesuits' college, to halt he felt inclined,
And so he stopped and spoke a word to his good friend the wind:
"Now what it is these Jesuits in their college are about,
Since they are all good friends of mine I'11 try and find it out;
So only wait a moment here, my friend and brother wind,
And when I've asked them how they do, we can each other find."
Before the Jesuits' churclh then the simple wind did wait,
While the Jesuits let the devil in with pleasure at the gate.
It pleased his honor greatly to see them all so kind;
Their welcomes and their praises were suited to his mind.
He swore his visits henceforth to them should be confined,
So he staid there and kept waiting his good old friend the wind.
The wind he waits, and waits, and waits, for centuries and more,
And when he gets impatient most fiercely does he roar.
And still before the Jesuits' church for the devil waits the wind,
But when the Jesuits went they did not leave their friend behind.
They never will return again, and we shall never mind.
While it remains so wonderful the Bonner Jesuits' wind.
Of the following beautiful little myth it is
only necessary to say that the original measure
THE IMAGE OF CHRIST IN VIENNA.
The legend have you never heard So famous in all lands About the image of our Lord,
That in Vienna stands?
They say it grows to be as tall
As are the tallest who adore it And yet it stoops to be as small
As any child that stands before it.
I know not whether there be such
An image-but believe
That Christ himself appears to each
What each can best receive.
A child with children he has been,
And so the children need not fear him;
With men he was the Prince of men,
And so the strongest gladly hear him.
In addition to the Rhein Legends Simrock
has also published a choice collection of riddles
in verse, for the amusement of the little ones.
He has also published a smnall volume of original
poems, ballads, lyrics, epigrams, etc., of considerable merit. His original poems are not
equal to the legends, yet they contain many
beauties. The same national spirit can everywhere be detected in them, and this alone will
recommend them to the masses. The following
little home scene is from this collection
THE NEW ODYSSEY.
Wandering many years a stranger,
Facing many a stormy blast,
Treading fields of death and danger To my home I come at last.
Even now in tones of gladness,
Well-known voices sound before;
Courage youth! no place for sadness Soon thou'it reach thy father's door.
Yes, in distant moonlight swelling Vine-crowned nurse of gurgling rills,
Guarding round the father dwelling Lo I I see my native hills.
Now I've climbed them, and hope seizes
Through the mists one glimpse of home;
Lend me wings, ye idle breezes I
Loved ones, stay! I come, I come!
Down the mountain bounding proudly,
Now my hope is turned to fear,
For I knock, and knock more loudly,
But no welcome greets my ear.
Weary moments without number
Pass in waiting, one by one,
Till at length I sink in slumber
On the kindly threshold stone.
Was it angel hands that bore me,
While with heavy sleep oppressed,
From that threshold, through the doorway,
To my childhood's place of rest?
Angels? Yes, for when another
Morning dawned, in very sooth
Stood around me father, mother,
And the bride of early youth.
If I go to sleep in sadness,
Wlhen the end of life is come,
May I wake to joy and gladness
In our Heavenly Father's home!
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