But she conceal’d the pain which she felt, and jestingly spoke thus “It betokens misfortune,—­so scrupulous people inform us,—­ For the foot to give way on entering a house, near the threshold.  I should have wish’d, in truth, for a sign of some happier omen!  Let us tarry a little, for fear your parents should blame you For their limping servant, and you should be thought a bad landlord.” ----- IX.  Urania.

Conclusion.

O ye Muses, who gladly favour a love that is heartfelt,
Who on his way the excellent youth have hitherto guided,
Who have press’d the maid to his bosom before their betrothal,
Help still further to perfect the bonds of a couple so loving,
Drive away the clouds which over their happiness hover! 
But begin by saying what now in the house has been passing.

For the third time the mother impatiently enter’d the chamber
Where the men were sitting, which she had anxiously quitted,
Speaking of the approaching storm, and the loss of the moon’s light,
Then of her son’s long absence, and all the perils that night brings. 
Strongly she censured their friends for having so soon left the youngster,
For not even addressing the maiden, or seeking to woo her.

“Make not the worst of the mischief,” the father peevishly answer’d;
“For you see we are waiting ourselves, expecting the issue.”

But the neighbour sat still, and calmly address’d them as follows:—­
“In uneasy moments like these, I always feel grateful
To my late father, who when I was young all seeds of impatience
In my mind uprooted, and left no fragment remaining,
And I learnt how to wait, as well as the best of the wise men. 
“Tell us what legerdemain he employ’d,” the pastor made answer. 
“I will gladly inform you, and each one may gain by the lesson,”
Answer’d the neighbour.  “When I was a boy, I was standing one Sunday
In a state of impatience, eagerly waiting the carriage
Which was to carry us out to the fountain under the lime-trees;
But it came not; I ran like a weasel now hither, now thither,
Up and down the stairs, and from the door to the window;
Both my hands were prickling, I scratch’d away at the tables,
Stamping and trotting about, and scarcely refrain’d I from crying. 
All this the calm man composedly saw; but finally when I
Carried my folly too far, by the arm he quietly took me,
Led me up to the window, and used this significant language
’See you up yonder the joiner’s workshop, now closed for the Sunday? 
’Twill be re-open’d to-morrow, and plane and saw will be working. 
Thus will the busy hours be pass’d from morning till evening. 
But remember this:  the rimming will soon be arriving,
When the master, together with all his men, will be busy
In preparing and finishing quickly and deftly your coffin,
And they will carefully bring over here that house made of boards, which