Wherein is related the pleasant story of the muleteer, together with other strange things that came to pass in the inn.
Ah me, Love’s mariner am I On Love’s deep ocean sailing; I know not where the haven lies, I dare not hope to gain it.
One solitary distant star Is all I have to guide me, A brighter orb than those of old That Palinurus lighted.
And vaguely drifting am I borne, I know not where it leads me; I fix my gaze on it alone, Of all beside it heedless.
But overcautious prudery, And coyness cold and cruel, When most I need it, these, like clouds, Its longed-for light refuse me.
Bright star, goal of my yearning eyes As thou above me beamest, When thou shalt hide thee from my sight I’ll know that death is near me.
The singer had got so far when it struck Dorothea that it was not fair to let Clara miss hearing such a sweet voice, so, shaking her from side to side, she woke her, saying:
“Forgive me, child, for waking thee, but I do so that thou mayest have the pleasure of hearing the best voice thou hast ever heard, perhaps, in all thy life.”
Clara awoke quite drowsy, and not understanding at the moment what Dorothea said, asked her what it was; she repeated what she had said, and Clara became attentive at once; but she had hardly heard two lines, as the