but this morning—­
Threateningly doubled my fist in an instant; with furious passion
Fell I upon them, and struck out and hit, assailing them blindly,
Seeing not where.  They howled as the blood gushed out from their noses: 
Scarcely they made their escape from my passionate kicking and beating. 
Then, as I older grew, I had much to endure from my father;
Violent words he oft vented on me, instead of on others,
When, at the board’s last session, the council had roused his displeasure,
And I was made to atone for the quarrels and wiles of his colleagues. 
Thou has pitied me often thyself; for much did I suffer,
Ever remembering with cordial respect the kindness of parents,
Solely intent on increasing for us their goods and possessions,
Much denying themselves in order to save for their children. 
But, alas! saving alone, for the sake of a tardy enjoyment,—­
That is not happiness:  pile upon pile, and acre on acre,
Make us not happy, no matter how fair our estates may be rounded. 
For the father grows old, and with him will grow old the children,
Losing the joy of the day, and bearing the care of tomorrow. 
Look thou below, and see how before us in glory are lying,
Fair and abundant, the corn-fields; beneath them, the vineyard and garden;
Yonder the stables and barns; our beautiful line of possessions. 
But when I look at the dwelling behind, where up in the gable
We can distinguish the window that marks my room in the attic;
When I look back, and remember how many a night from that window
I for the moon have watched; for the sun, how many a morning! 
When the healthful sleep of a few short hours sufficed me,—­
Ah, so lonely they seem to me then, the chamber and courtyard,
Garden and glorious field, away o’er the hill that is stretching;
All so desert before me lie:  ’tis the wife that is wanting.”

Thereupon spoke the good mother, and thus with intelligence answered:  “Son, not greater thy wish to bring thee a bride to thy chamber, That thou mayst find thy nights a beautiful part of existence, And that the work of the day may gain independence and freedom, Than is thy father’s wish too, and thy mother’s.  We always have
          
                                       counselled,—­
Yea, we have even insisted,—­that thou shouldst elect thee a maiden.  But I was ever aware, and now my heart gives me assurance, That till the hour appointed is come, and the maiden appointed Shall with the hour appear, the choice will be left for the future, While more strong than all else will be fear of grasping the wrong one.  If I may say it, my son, I believe thou already hast chosen; For thy heart has been touched, and been made more than wontedly tender.  Speak it out honestly, then; for my soul has told me before-hand:  That same maiden it is, the exile, whom thou hast elected.”