We
left Cologne at a quarter to eight—
The start was somewhat early.
When Hagen was reached, where we halted to dine,
It was three o'clock, or nearly.
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The
table was spread, I was glad to see
With the good old German dishes.
My sauer-kraut, hail! Your homely smell
As sweet as a man could wish is.
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My
mother stewed her chestnuts so—
I loved them with childish devotion.
And my native cod-fish, be greeted! How well
You swim in your buttery ocean!
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O
the Fatherland must be dear to all,
Unless to the heart of dullard!
Of bloaters and eggs I am also fond,
Fried brown and rightly coloured.
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How
the sausages spluttered for glee in the fat!
Roast fieldfares, like angels rejoicing,
A melodious song from their apple-sauce sang,
The sweetest of welcomes voicing.
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"All
hail, compatriot! Long you have roamed,"
They twittered and warbled together,
"And wandered afar in a foreign land,
With birds of a foreign feather."
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A
goose was put down with the other good things,
A creature quiet and kindly;
Perhaps in the days when we both were young,
She had yielded her heart to me blindly.
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Her
gaze was so wistful and faithful and sad—
I was sorry I could not commend her—
I am willing to vouch for her beautiful soul,
But her body was far from tender.
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A
boar's head was served on a pewter plate;
'Twas a dish with which none could quarrel.
The snouts of our bores at home, I see,
Are garlanded still with laurel!
