O
Minden is a fortress good,
Armed strongly for resistance!
But from our Prussian fortresses
I like to keep my distance.
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2
We
reached the town at fall of night,
The bridge with sullen thunder
Groaned gloomily beneath our wheels,
The moat was yawning under.
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3
The
lofty bastions seemed to frown,
A menace in their anger;
The great gate, opening noisily,
Swung to with din and clangour.
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4
I
thought, "When Polyphemus closed
The cave with the stone, Ulysses
Was not more sad of soul than I,
Nor in plight more grave than this is."
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5
A
corporal stopped us to ask our names.
"I'm an oculist, and as such, sir,
Giants have couched for cataract;
They call me Nobody Much, sir."
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6
Still
lower my drooping spirits sank
At the inn; the food distressed me.
I retired to my room but could not sleep,
The blankets' weight oppressed me.
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7
'Twas
a yellow canopied feather bed
I stretched my uneasy limbs on,
From which a dirty tassel swung;
The damask curtains were crimson.
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Accursed
tassel! It robbed me of rest
Till the weary night was ended;
It swung like the sword of Damocles
Above my head suspended.
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And
now it seemed a serpent's form,
And it hissed, "You'll never win out of it
You are fast in the fortress, and fast shall bide.
You are doomed and damned—there's no doubt of it!"
