Who can better than the bardGuide a friend when gone astray?
The bell now ceas'd as bell to ring,
Then with a smile replied the worthy old magistrate, saying"Your reminder is wise, like that which they give to the suff'rerWho has had his dwelling burnt down, that under the ruins,Gold and silver are lying, though melted and cover'd with ashes.Little, indeed, it may be, and yet that little is precious,And the poor man digs it up, and rejoices at finding the treasure.Gladly, therefore, I turn my thoughts to those few worthy actionsWhich my memory still is able to dwell on with pleasure.Yes, I will not deny it, I saw late foemen unitingSo as to save the town from harm; I saw with devotionParents, children and friends impossible actions attempting,Saw how the youth of a sudden became a man, how the greybeardOnce more was young, how the child as a stripling appear'd in a moment.Aye, and the weaker sex, as people commonly call it,Show'd itself brave and daring, with presence of mind all-unwonted.Let me now, in the first place, describe a deed of rare meritBy a high-spirited girl accomplish'd, an excellent maiden,Who in the great farmhouse remain'd behind with the servants,When the whole of the men had departed, to fight with the strangers.Well, there fell on the court a troop of vagabond scoundrels,Plund'ring and forcing their way inside the rooms of the women.Soon they cast their eyes on the forms of the grown-up fair maidenAnd of the other dear girls, in age little more than mere children.Hurried away by raging desire, unfeelingly rush'd theyOn the trembling band, and on the high-spirited maiden.But she instantly seized the sword from the side of a ruffian,Hew'd him down to the ground; at her feet straight fell he, all bleeding,Then with doughty strokes the maidens she bravely deliver'd.Wounded four more of the robbers; with life, however, escaped they.Then she lock'd up the court, and, arm'd still, waited for succour.
See how yon hill is bright
By thousand-varying pangs weigh'd down,Thou dwell'st in dark and endless night.
Of thy treasure
Doth shield us, brightly glistening;A song that profits and enthrall,
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