When the cooper drinks his wine,
From his goblet both rich and rare,
The bubbles upon the wine do shine,
And the journeyman claims his share.
The cooper's trade is noble,
And may his companions be,
Love—pure, chaste and stable;
Wine—generous, rich and free.
Applause, loud and long, drowned the voice of the singer; but no one in the audience appeared to be better pleased than master Martin. And without listening to the jealous comments of Vollrad, who exerted himself to prove that Reinhold's method had some of the imperfections of Hans Muller, he filled and raised as high as he could the largest festive goblet, and cried out—"Come here, my good companion and joyful singing master, come and take a drink from the cup of master Martin."
Reinhold obeyed; then, returning to his place, he told Frederick, in a whisper, to pay for his entertainment by singing the song which he had sung the night before.
"The devil take the mad man!" growled Frederick with a gesture of impatience.
But Reinhold, without taking notice of it, rose and said aloud—"My venerable masters and lords, here is my dear brother Frederick, who knows better than myself a crowd of ballads and songs, with which he would regale you, if his throat was not a little dry from the dust that we have met with on our route; it shall then be, if you will permit it, for your next meeting."
At these words, all began to compliment Frederick. There were even some honest people, who took a notion, without having heard it, to set a higher estimate upon his voice than upon the talents of Reinhold.
Master Vollrad, who had just engulphed an enormous goblet, pretended, that Reinhold's method resembled too much the insipid Italian style, and that Frederick's alone preserved the natural German stamp.
