rned were the barns where the copious harvest already was garnered;
Burned were the streets as far as the market; the house of my father,
Neighbor to this, was destroyed, and this one also fell with it.
Little we managed to save. I sat, that sorrowful night through,
Outside the town on the common, to guard the beds and the boxes.
Sleep overtook me at last, and when I again was awakened,
Feeling the chill of the morning that always descends before sunrise,
There were the smoke and the glare, and the walls and chimneys in ruins.
Then fell a weight on my heart; but more majestic than ever
Came up the sun again, inspiring my bosom with courage.
Then I rose hastily up, with a yearning the place to revisit
Whereon our dwelling had stood, and to see if the hens had been rescued,
Which I especially loved, for I still was a child in my feelings.
Thus as I over the still-smoking timbers of house and of court-yard
Picked my way, and beheld the dwelling so ruined and wasted,
Thou camest up to examine the place, from the other direction.
Under the ruins thy horse in his stall had been buried; the rubbish
Lay on the spot and the glimmering beams; of the horse we saw nothing.
Thoughtful and grieving we stood there thus, each facing the other,
Now that the wall was fallen that once had divided our court-yards.
Thereupon thou by the hand didst take me, and speak to me, saying,--
'Lisa, how earnest thou hither? Go back! thy soles must be burning;
Hot the rubbish is here: it scorches my boots, which are stronger.'
And thou didst lift me up, and carry me out through thy court-yard.
There was the door of the house left standing yet with its archway,
Just as 'tis standing now, the one thing only remaining.
Then thou didst set me down and kiss me; to that I objected;
But thou didst answer and say with kindly significant language:
'See! my house lies in ruins: remain here and help me rebuild it;
So shall my help in return be given to building thy father's.'
Yet did I not comprehend thee until thou sentest thy mother
Unto my father, and quick were the happy espousals accomplished.
E'en to this day I remember with joy those half-consumed timbers,
And I can see once more the sun coming up in such splendor;
For 'twas the day that gave me my husband; and, ere the first season
Passed of that wild desolation, a son to my youth had been given.
Therefore I praise thee, Hermann, that thou, with an honest assurance,
S