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breathed with a feeling of liberty! Why have you stolen freedom from your little children?” Then the severe rocks become mournful. “We are not guilty, because we are forced to steal,” they reply, and maliciously overspread the sea. With moan, and sob, runs mother storm across the sea, and father hurricane hastens away, they call out all the waves, a fatal report spreads everywhere: “O waves, poor waves! your liberty is lost! Henceforth you are slaves!”
They hurry away sobbing.
The ocean dies.
The powerful old waves hide themselves in labyrinths of the sea. Already they object to conventions, neither does the storm awake father hurricane!
Now the young waves roll sadly, neither laughter, nor song is heard about former liberty; and the sun scarce shines through the clouds. All is so gray, so sad around!
