No More Learning

The clumsy hops, the crooked springs,
'Tis quite disreputable!

_Fiddler_. The scurvy pack, they hate, 'tis clear,
Like cats and dogs, each other.
Like Orpheus' lute, the bagpipe here
Binds beast to beast as brother.

_Dogmatist_. You'll not scream down my reason, though,
By criticism's cavils.
The devil's something, that I know,
Else how could there be devils?

_Idealist_. Ah, phantasy, for once thy sway
Is guilty of high treason.
If all I see is I, to-day,
'Tis plain I've lost my reason.

_Realist_. To me, of all life's woes and plagues,
Substance is most provoking,
For the first time I feel my legs
Beneath me almost rocking.

_Supernaturalist_. I'm overjoyed at being here,
And even among these rude ones;
For if bad spirits are, 'tis clear,
There also must be good ones.

_Skeptic_.
Where'er they spy the flame they roam,
And think rich stores to rifle,
Here such as I are quite at home,
For _Zweifel_ rhymes with _Teufel_. [45]

_Leader of the music_. Grass-hid cricket, frogs in trees,
You cursed dilettanti!
Fly-snouts and gnats'-noses, peace!
Musicians you, right jaunty!

_The Clever ones_. Sans-souci we call this band
Of merry ones that skip it;
Unable on our feet to stand,
Upon our heads we trip it.

_The Bunglers_. Time was, we caught our tit-bits, too,
God help us now! that's done with!
We've danced our leathers entirely through,
And have only bare soles to run with.

_Jack-o'lanterns_. From the dirty bog we come,
Whence we've just arisen:
Soon in the dance here, quite at home,
As gay young _sparks_ we'll glisten.

_Shooting star_. Trailing from the sky I shot,
Not a star there missed me:
Crooked up in this grassy spot,
Who to my legs will assist me?

_The solid men_.