Gaudeamus! Humorous Poems Part 2

What hangs there like a frozen pig, Or knot all twisted rude?

So giant lazy, giant big, In the prim--rim--aeval wood?

Thrice bigger than a bull--at least Thrice heavier, and dumb-- A climbing and a clawing beast, The Megatherium!

All dreamily it opes its jaws And glares so lazily, Then digs with might its cutting claws In the Embahuba tree.

It eats the fruit, it eats the leaf, Soft, happy, grunting 'Ai!'

And when they're gone, as if with grief, Occasionally goes 'Wai!'

But from the tree it never crawls.

It knows a shorter way; For like a gourd adown it falls, And will not hence away.

With owly eyes awhile it hums, Smiles wondrously and deep; For after good long feeding comes Its main hard work--to sleep.

Oh, sceptic mortal--bra.s.sy, bold, Wilt thou my words deride?

Go to Madrid and there behold His bones all petrified.

And if thou hast before them stood, Remember these my rhymes.

Such laziness held only good In antdiluvian times.

Thou art no Megatherium, Thy soul has aims divine, Then mind your studies, all and some, And eat not like a swine.

Use well your time--'tis money worth, Yea, work till death you see.

And should you yield to sloth and mirth, Do it not sloath--somely![4]

[Footnote 4: In the original

Und steckst Du doch im faulen Pelz So fall mit Vorsicht ab.

The Gasthaus zum Faulen Pelz is a beerhouse in Heidelberg.]

THE BASALT.

Mag der basaltene Mohrenstein Zum Schreck es erzahlen im Lande, Wie er gebrodelt in Flammenschein Und geschwarzt entstiegen dem Brande: Brenn's drunten noch Jahr aus Jahr ein Beim Wein soll uns nicht bange sein, Nein, nein!

Soll uns nicht bange sein!

F. v. Kobell. Urzeit der Erde, p. 33.

Es war der Basalt ein jungerer Sohn Aus altvulcanischem Hause, Er lebte lang verkannt und gedruckt In erdtief verborgener Clause.

Sir basalt was a younger son Of that oldest race, the Vulcanian, And he lived for ages oppressed and unknown In a cavern deep subterranean.

So they goaded and jeered the lover forlorn,-- 'Art thou yearning for rainy weather?

You will get but a mitten, and the scorn Of all the formations together.

'Uncle Rocksalt said to the Lime and smiled, And the billows sneer it higher, "How can the Ocean's third-born child Be a bride to this sc.u.m of Fire?"'

What happened next was never known; But at once into madness cras.h.i.+ng, In a fiery blaze he was upwards thrown, His wild veins glaring and flas.h.i.+ng.

Loud raving he sprang to the air in haste, And scorching all, fast hurried; Bursting the strata's mountain waste Beneath which he long was buried.

And she whom he once had wors.h.i.+pped, broke, And was crushed as a mere obstruction; He laughed in scorn, and whirling in smoke, Stormed on to fresh destruction.

And blow on blow--a terrible roar Of thousands of storms wild cras.h.i.+ng; The earth burst open and trembled all o'er.

With a shaking and breaking and das.h.i.+ng.

Till in majesty the fiery flood Flew up from the rifts in fountains, And scattered with ruins land and flood Bowed down to the columned mountains.

There he stood and gazed on the blue air free, And the sun with its sweet attraction, Then heavily sighed--it blew cool from the sea-- And he sank in petrifaction.

Yet still in the rock may be heard in rhyme A wondrous tuning and ringing, As though he would from his youthful time A song of love be singing.

And a gold yellow drop of natrolite From the dark stone oft comes peeping; Those are the tears which Sir Basalt For his crushed love ever is weeping.

THE BOULDER.

Einst ziert' ich, den Aether durchspahend, Als Spitze des Urgebirg's Stock, Ruhm, Hoheit und Stellung verschmahend, Ward ich zum erratischen Block.

Once high on the mountain-peak rising, In sunlight I shone like a flame; But height and position despising, A wandering boulder became.

They say of a thinker's bold sallies, He goes where the ice will not bear; I was beckoned to false hollow valleys, By snow maids, seductive and fair.

Thus driven by furious fancies, I went down the hill with a shout; But atoned for my youthful romances By a thousand years rolling about.

Cried the Glacier, his teeth sharply showing, Here, my blade, you'll be polished right well, And from my moraine-offal going, As a stranger be borne from the dell.

Then be scratched and be sc.r.a.ped and be driven, I rolled to a rock that was cracked, But with blows was knocked upward to heaven, Be twisted, be puffed, and be whacked.

Just try to be proper and decent In chaotic upheavals of mud!

Down I sunk, down to periods recent, When the ice wall went off in the flood.

And rough is the role he unravels Who plays in an ice part--ah, me!

On a flake I set out on my travels, And the ice cake soon melted at sea.

Plimp, plump! down I went to the bottom, For ages lay sleeping in clay, Until the heat finally caught 'em, And Glacier and Flood dried away.

Then the Sun, with a hotter light blazing, Shone down where the billows once played; And with the rhinoceros grazing, The mammoth was seen in the glade.

Now we from the driving ice fast-time Are useful, although it be late, And to heathen and Christian for pastime Give stones for the Church and the State.