And when I had finish’d the excellent fish, The goose next made its appearance; My mother again ask’d for this and for that, With the same ill-timed perseverance.
“My darling child, which land do you think “Is the best for people to dwell in,-- “This place, or France? which nation’s the best? “What thing does each excel in?”--
“A German goose, my mother dear, “Is good as one of the courses; “But the French stuff geese far better than we, “And they also have better sauces.”
And when the goose had taken its leave, The oranges presently follow’d, And tasted so unexpectedly nice, That with pleasure they quickly were swallow’d.
But now my mother again began Her questions with very much pleasure; She ask’d me a thousand things, but some Were awkward beyond all measure.
“My darling child, pray tell me now, “If politics still you’re inclined to? “Which party in the state to support “Have you the greatest mind to?”--
“The quality, my mother dear, “Of your oranges cannot be beaten; “The sweet juice I swallow with much delight, “But I leave the peel uneaten.”
They bit by bit are building again The hapless half-burnt city; Like a half-shorn poodle Hamburg now looks, An object to waken one’s pity.[60]
Full many a street has disappear’d That mournfully one misses-- Where is the house, wherein I kiss’d Love’s first delicious kisses?
Where is the printing-house, where I My _Reisebilder_ printed? The oyster shop, where I oysters gulp’d down With appetite unstinted?
The Dreckwall too,--where is it now? I now should seek it vainly; Where the pavilion, where I ate So many cakes profanely?
Where is the town-hall, wherein sat The senate and burghers stately? A prey to the flames! The flames spared not Whatever was holiest lately.
The people still were sighing with grief, And with most mournful faces The history sad of the great fire told, And pointed out all its traces:--
“It burnt in every corner at once, “All was smoke and flames fiercely flashing; “The churches’ towers all blazed on high, “And tumbled in with loud crashing.
“The old exchange was also burnt, “Where our fathers in every weather “Were wont to assemble for centuries past, “And honestly traded together.
“The bank, the silvery soul of the town, “And the books which have always served us “To note the assets of every man, “Thank heaven! have been preserved us.