Thereupon he traced with pointed finger,
And with anxious care, upon the forest,
At the utmost verge, where the strong sunbeams
From the shining ground appeared reflected,
Traced the figure of a lovely maiden,
Fair in form, and clad in graceful fashion;
Fresh the cheeks beneath her brown locks' ambush,
And the cheeks possessed the self-same colour
As the finger that had served to paint them.
"O thou boy!" exclaimed I then, "what master
In his school received thee as his pupil,
Teaching thee so truthfully and quickly
Wisely to begin, and well to finish?"
"Whilst I still was speaking, lo, a zephyr
Softly rose, and set the tree-tops moving,
Curling all the wavelets on the river,
And the perfect maiden's veil, too, filled it,
And to make my wonderment still greater,
Soon the maiden set her foot in motion.
On she came, approaching toward the station
Where still sat I with my arch instructor.
As now all, yes, all thus moved together,—
Flowers, rivers, trees, the veil,—all moving,—
And the gentle foot of that most fair one,
Can ye think that on my rock I lingered,
Like a rock, as though fast-chained and silent?
