All under the lime-trees the music sounds,
  And lads and lasses dance there, too;
A couple are dancing whom no one knows,
  They are tall, and of noble air, too.

To and fro in a weirdlike way,
  They glide and meander slowly;
They smile to each other, they wave their heads,
  The lady whispers lowly:

"My fine young fellow, in your cap
  A water-pink is twined, sir;
It only grows at the roots of the sea,--
  You come not of Adam's kind, sir.

"You are a Merman; to beguile
  These village beauties you wish, eh?
I knew you at the very first glance
  By your teeth so sharp and fishy."

To and fro, in a weirdlike way,
  They glide and meander slowly;
They smile to each other, they wave their heads,
  The young man whispers lowly:

"My pretty maiden, tell me why
  As cold as ice your hand is?
Ay, tell me why your white robe's hem
  As moist as the wet sea-sand is?

"I knew you at the very first,
  By your curtsey all so tricksy; --
No mortal child of earth are you,
  You are my cousin, the Nixie."

The fiddles are silent, the dance is done,
  They part with a courtly greeting;
They know each other, alas ! too well,
  So shun any future meeting.