Hullo! Hullo! how the hunt rampages
So loudly through mountain and valley!
The deer and elk flee timidly
Through thick and thin at once.

A deer that plunges in anxious haste
Toward a tree,
Panting, rests briefly
Before fleeing quickly once more.

"Briskly onward, my little animal, take care,
The Emperor is hunting for you!
And nothing escapes his gun
In the sylvan precinct."

Already the young nobleman hurries hither
Aglow with the fervour of the huntsman,
His rifle is filled with death,
The trigger is set.

Quickly he takes aim, before the
Shy wild animal can leap away from him.
Suddenly, high up in the boughs,
He sees a shrine to the Mother of God.

He immediately lowers his weapon
And, full of pious spirit, says:
"You chose a good refuge,
Continue on your way unscathed!"

The hunting fervour has dissipated,
He feels himself softly moved,
And with a breath from deep within his bosom
He lies down by the tree.

Sleep soon embraces the weary one,
A gentle dream comes to him,
And shows him, wandering through the woods,
Mary with the Child.

Innumerable flowers glow all around,
Like the loveliest of stars,
That is a radiance, a sparkling,
As in the realm of Heaven.

A seraph wafts about and seeks out
The brightest stars,
And goes to Mary's son
With a splendid bouquet.

The seraph's garment is of ethereal blue,
His visage as bright as the sun,
Of beauty, innocence, beatitude
A lavish well-spring.

The heavenly creature bows down
Before the holy pair,
And sweetly suffused with rapture
He offers his bouquet.

The Child plays with the flower,
And then lets them fall,
And, mildly and mercifully, He
Gazes upon the young nobleman,

And says to him: "The flowers there,
Give them back to the angel,
As soon the most exalted celebration is nigh!
I shall send him to you for good fortune."

The Emperor kneels in gratitude, --
Thereupon the tree shakes itself,
And with a soughing of leaves
It wakes him from his wondrous dream.