I offer. 
That, she is so, I believe; naught new or strange will ye tell me. 
Had I to act for myself, I should go with speed to the village,
Where a few words from the maiden’s own lips should determine my fortune. 
Ye will with readiness single her out from all of the others,
For there can scarcely be one that to her may be likened in bearing. 
But I will give you, besides, her modest attire for a token: 
Mark, then, the stomacher’s scarlet, that sets off the arch of her bosom,
Prettily laced, and the bodice of black fitting close to her figure;
Neatly the edge of her kerchief is plaited into a ruffle,
Which with a simple grace her chin’s rounded outline encircles;
Freely and lightly rises above it the head’s dainty oval;
And her luxuriant hair over silver bodkins is braided;
Down from under her bodice, the full, blue petticoat falling,
Wraps itself, when she is walking, about her neatly shaped ankles. 
Yet one thing will I say, and would make it my earnest petition,—­
Speak not yourselves with the maiden, nor let your intent be discovered;
Rather inquire of others, and hearken to what they may tell you. 
When ye have tidings enough to satisfy father and mother,
Then return to me here, and we will consider what further. 
So did I plan it all out in my mind while driving you hither.”

Thus he spoke.  The friends thereupon went their way to the village,
Where, in the houses and gardens and barns, the people were swarming;
Wagons on wagons stood crowded together along the broad highway. 
Men for the harnessed horses and lowing cattle were caring,
While the women were busy in drying their clothes on the hedges,
And in the running brook the children were merrily splashing. 
Making their way through the pressure of wagons, of people and cattle,
Went the commissioned spies, and to right and to left looked about them,
If they a figure might see that answered the maiden’s description;
But not one of them all appeared the beautiful damsel. 
Denser soon grew the press.  A contest arose round the wagons
’Mongst the threatening men, wherein blended the cries of the women. 
Rapidly then to the spot, and with dignified step, came an elder,
Joined the clamoring group, and straightway the uproar was silenced,
As he commanded peace, and rebuked with a fatherly sternness. 
“Has, then, misfortune,” he cried, “not yet so bound us together,
That we have finally learned to bear and forbear one another,
Though each one, it may be, do not measure his share of the labor? 
He that is happy, forsooth, is contentious!  Will sufferings never
Teach you to cease from your brawls of old between brother and brother? 
Grudge not one to another a place on the soil of the stranger;
Rather divide what ye have, as yourselves, ye would hope to find mercy.”