Hermann hasted straightway to the stable, where quietly standing
Found he the spirited stallions, the clean oats quickly devouring,
And the well-dried hay that was cut from the richest of meadows. 
On them without delay the shining bits he adjusted,
Hastily drew the straps through the buckles of beautiful plating,
Firmly fastened then the long broad reins, and the horses
Led without to the court-yard, whither the willing assistant
Had with ease, by the pole, already drawn forward the carriage. 
Next to the whipple-tree they with care by the neatly kept traces
Joined the impetuous strength of the freely travelling horses. 
Whip in hand took Hermann his seat and drove under the doorway. 
Soon as the friends straightway their commodious places had taken,
Quickly the carriage rolled off, and left the pavement behind it,
Left behind it the walls of the town and the fresh-whitened towers. 
Thus drove Hermann on till he came to the well-known causeway. 
Rapidly, loitering nowhere, but hastening up hill and down hill. 
But as he now before him perceived the spire of the village,
And no longer remote the garden-girt houses were lying,
Then in himself he thought that here he would rein up the horses.

Under the solemn shade of lofty linden-trees lying,
Which for centuries past upon this spot had been rooted,
Spread in front of the village a broad and grass-covered common,
Favorite place of resort for the peasants and neighboring townsfolk. 
Here, at the foot of the trees, sunk deep in the ground was a well-spring;
When you descended the steps, stone benches you found at the bottom,
Stationed about the spring, whose pure, living waters were bubbling
Ceaselessly forth, hemmed in by low walls for convenience of drawing. 
Hermann resolved that here he would halt, with his horses and carriage,
Under the shade of the trees.  He did so, and said to the others: 
“Here alight, my friends, and go your ways to discover
Whether the maiden in truth be worthy the hand that I offer. 
That she is so, I believe; naught new or strange will ye tell me. 
Had I to act for myself, I should go with speed to the village,
Where a few words from the maiden’s own lips should determine my fortune. 
Ye will with readiness single her out from all of the others,
For there can scarcely be one that to her may be likened in bearing. 
But I will give you, besides, her modest attire for a token: 
Mark, then, the stomacher’s scarlet, that sets off the arch of her bosom,
Prettily laced, and the bodice of black fitting close to her figure;
Neatly the edge of her kerchief is plaited into a ruffle,
Which with a simple grace her chin’s rounded outline encircles;
Freely and lightly rises above it the head’s dainty oval;
And her luxuriant hair over silver bodkins is braided;
Down from under her bodice, the full, blue petticoat