[Illustration:  THE MAGIC HORN]

LUDWIG ACHIM VON ARNIM AND CLEMENS BRENTANO

* * * * *

  THE BOY’S MAGIC HORN[7] (1806)

WERE I A LITTLE BIRD

Were I a little bird, And had two little wings, I’d fly to thee; But I must stay, because That cannot be.

  Though I be far from thee,
  In sleep I dwell with thee,
  Thy voice I hear. 
  But when I wake again,
  Then all is drear.

  Each nightly hour my heart
  With thoughts of thee will start
  When I’m alone;
  For thou ’st a thousand times
  Pledged me thine own.

* * * * *

THE MOUNTAINEER

  Oh, would I were a falcon wild,
    I should spread my wings and soar;
  Then I should come a-swooping down
    By a wealthy burgher’s door.

  In his house there dwells a maiden,
    She is called fair Magdalene,
  And a fairer brown-eyed damsel
    All my days I have not seen.

  On a Monday morning early,
    Monday morning, they relate,
  Magdalene was seen a-walking
    Through the city’s northern gate.

  Then the maidens said:  “Thy pardon—­
    Magdalene, where wouldst thou go?”
  “Oh, into my father’s garden,
    Where I went the night, you know.”

  And when she to the garden came,
    And straight into the garden ran,
  There lay beneath the linden-tree
    Asleep, a young and comely man.

  “Wake up, young man, be stirring,
    Oh rise, for time is dear,
  I hear the keys a-rattling,
    And mother will be here.”

  “Hearst thou her keys a-rattling,
    And thy mother must be nigh,
  Then o’er the heath this minute
    Oh come with me, and fly!”

  And as they wandered o’er the heath,
    There for these twain was spread,
  A shady linden-tree beneath,
    A silken bridal-bed.

  And three half hours together,
    They lay upon the bed. 
  “Turn round, turn round, brown maiden;
    Give me thy lips so red!”

  “Thou sayst so much of turning round,
    But naught of wedded troth,
  I fear me I have slept away
    My faith and honor both.”

  “And fearest thou, thou hast slept away
    Thy faith and honor too,
  I say I’ll wed thee yet, my dear,
    So thou shalt never rue.”

  Who was it sang this little lay,
    And sang it o’er with cheer? 
  On St. Annenberg by the town,
    It was the mountaineer.

  He sang it there right gaily,
    Drank mead and cool red wine,
  Beside him sat and listened
    Three dainty damsels fine.