Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE TREACHEROUS MAID OF THE MILL, by JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE TREACHEROUS MAID OF THE MILL, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Lo! Here is our comrade - he's racing along
Last Line: And at night sallies forth caterwauling!
Subject(s): Love; Mills & Millers; Women


Lo! here is our comrade -- he's racing along,
Ere day break his exercise taking;
Has he been to the chapel to hear matin-song?
With cold his poor bones must be aching!
The brook lies before him; barefooted he goes,
Through the ice-water manfully tearing!
What says he? An orison twang'd through his nose?
Ah no, my dear friend, he is swearing!

Alas! from a bed that he slyly bespoke,
He has started with wonderful vigour,
And, save for the sheltering folds of his cloak,
He would cut a most ludicrous figure.
Some impudent scoundrel has seized on his coat,
His vest, and his breeches, for payment;
And sent our poor friend, on the highway to trot,
Like Adam, in primitive raiment.

The reason? I'll tell you -- he'll tell you, the dunce!
For his shame is too plain to be hidden;
Down there at the mill, as in Paradise once,
Grows fruit which is strictly forbidden.
Our friend has been poaching! Such dangerous trips
End seldom except in vexation;
Let him in, give him liquor, and from his own lips
Let us hear his absurd lamentation.

'In the amorous glance of the brown maiden's eye,
No treachery did I discover;
She loved me, adored me -- she said so; and I
Was exceedingly pleased as her lover.
How could I imagine, while sweetly caress'd,
What horrible thoughts she was hatching?
I was very content as she clung to my breast,
Some hundreds of kisses despatching.

'It was pleasant enough, till the deep of the night,
When I found myself, somehow or other,
Disrobed of my daily habiliments quite;
Then the damsel shriek'd out for her mother!
Saint Paul! what a horrible rush was there then!
Nay, listen, my dear friends, with patience --
A mother, a brother, of cousins full ten,
Aunts, uncles, and other relations!

'Then a clamour arose might have waken'd the dead!
Like tiger-cats fierce they were squalling!
"Her honour! her honour!" the women folk said;
"Her virtue!" the strong knaves kept bawling.
And all this to me, an unfortunate youth,
Who really was guiltless of sinning!
For a wiser than I had been baffled, in truth,
Had he taken the odds for the winning.

'Her virtue! If Cupid is vigilant still,
If his aim, as of yore, is as steady,
I rather imagine, that maid of the mill
Knows some of his secrets already!
In short, sirs, they eagerly pounced on my dress,
Coat, waistcoat, and breeches of kersey,
A fund of division for twenty, not less;
That I saved my old cloak was a mercy!

'I leap'd on the floor; I struggled and swore,
To get out was my only endeavour;
And there stood the maiden, quite close to the door,
With a smile as enchanting as ever!
So frantic was I that the boldest gave way;
I cleft them, like hay-bands. asunder:
They let me go forth, in my simple array;
Save my cloak, there was nothing to plunder.

'You laugh, sirs, at this! well, I fairly must own,
No whit you're securer from pillage,
Should you leave the more elegant nymphs of the town,
To prowl after nymphs of the village.
Let women have lovers, as oft as they will,
And change, without any disclosure;
But never with scandal, like her of the mill.
Subject them to shameful exposure.'

So told us his story, our shivering friend,
And we shouted in mirthful derision;
No grain of compassion had we to expend,
On a gallant in such a condition.
For richly deserves he sore penance to pay,
The youth, who, from constancy falling,
Pays court to an innocent maiden by day,
And at night sallies forth caterwauling!





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