especially devoted to the record of his right wondrous and merry adventures, was published in 1821, under the title of ‘Rubenzahl, oder Volksagen im Reisengebirge.’
We cannot bring this note to a conclusion, without calling the attention of our readers to the striking points of similarity which exists in their characters, between this frolicsome spirit of the hills, as pourtrayed in the little tales which they have just read, and Puck the mischievous and dainty spirit of ‘Midsummer’s Nights’ Dream,’ as pencilled and tinted with the rainbow spirit of England’s greatest bard,—‘that shrewd and knavish one, called Robin Goodfellow.’
Rubezahl’s tricks and vagaries have been too recently perused, to require more than a reference, but the congenial spirit who says:—
I am that merry wanderer of the night,
I jest to Oberon, and make him smile,
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile.
Neighing in likeness of a silly foal,
And sometimes lurk I in a gossip’s bowl
In very likeness of a roasted crab;
And when she drinks, agains ther lips I bob,
And on her withered dew-lap pour the ale.
The wisest aunt telling the saddest tale
Sometime for three foot-stool mistaketh me.’
