Das Land und Volk gefiel mir wohl!
Onein, nein, nein!

Sein Vaterland muß größer sein!

Was ist des Deutschen Vaterland?
So nenne mir das große Land!
Gewiß ist es das Österreich,
An Ehren und an Siegen reich!
Onein, nein, nein!

Sein Vaterland muß größer sein!

Was ist des Deutschen Vaterland?
So nenne endlich mir das Land!
So weit die deutsche Zunge klingt!
Und Gott im Himmel Lieder singt,
Das soll es sein,

Das, wack'rer Deutscher nenne dein.

Das ist des Deutschen Vaterland,
Wo Eide schwört der Druck der Hand;
Wo Treue hell vom Auge blizt,
Und Liebe warm im Herzen sitzt,

Das soll es sein,

Das, wack'rer Deutscher nenne dein.

Das ist des Deutschen Vaterland,
Wo Zorn vertilgt den wälschen Tand,
Wo jeder Franzmann heißet Feind,
Wo jeder Deutsche heißet Freund -
Das soll es sein,

Das ganze Deutschland soll es sein.

Ernst Moritz Arndt.

Such lands and people please me well.
Ah, no, no, no!

His fatherland's not bounded so!

Which is the German's fatherland?
Come, tell me now the famous land.
Doubtless, it is the Austrian state,
In honors and in triumphs great.-
no!

Ah, no, no,

His fatherland's not bounded so!

Which is the German's fatherland?
So tell me now at last the land! —
As far's the German accent rings
And hymns to God in heaven sings, –
That is the land,—

There, brother, is thy fatherland!

There is the German's fatherland,

Where oaths attest the graspèd hand,

Where truth beams from the sparkling eyes, And in the heart love warmly lies;

That is the land,

There, brother, is thy fatherland!

That is the German's fatherland,

Where wrath pursues the foreign band,—

Where every Frank is held a foe,

And Germans all as brothers glow;

That is the land,

All Germany's thy fatherland!

M

Tr. by J. Macray.

Aix-la-Chapelle

WAS it to disenchant, and to undo,

That we approached the seat of Charle-
maine?

To sweep from many an old romantic strain
That faith which no devotion may renew!
Why does this puny church present to view
Its feeble columns? and that scanty chair!
This sword that one of our weak times might wear;

Lied
(Cologne)

Im Rhein, im schönen Strome,
Da spiegelt sich in den Welln,
Mit seinem großen Dome,
Das große, heilige Köln.

Im Dom, da steht ein Bildnis,
Auf goldenem Leder gemalt;
In meines Lebens Wildnis
Hat's freundlich hineingestrahlt.

Es schweben Blumen und Englein

Um unsere liebe Frau;

Die Augen, die Lippen, die Wänglein,

Die gleichen der Liebsten genau.

Heinrich Heine.

Objects of false pretence, or meanly true!
If from a traveller's fortune I might claim
A palpable memorial of that day,

Then would I seek the Pyrenean breach

Which Roland clove with huge two-handed

sway,

And to the enormous labor left his name,

Where unremitting frosts the rocky crescent bleach.

William Wordsworth.

Song
(Cologne)

IN the Rhine, that beautiful river,

The sacred town of Cologne,

With its vast cathedral, is ever
Full clearly mirror'd and shown.

A picture on golden leather

In that fair cathedral is seen;
On my life, so sad altogether,
It hath cast its rays serene.

The flowers and angels hover
Round our dear Lady there;
Her eyes, lips, cheeks, all over
Resemble my mistress fair.

Tr. by E. A. Bowring, C.B.

The Rhine

(From Childe Harold, Canto III)

THE castled crag of Drachenfels

Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells Between the banks which bear the vine, And hills all rich with blossomed trees, And fields which promise corn and wine, And scattered cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along them shine, Have strewed a scene, which I should see With double joy, wert thou with me.

And peasant-girls, with deep-blue eyes,
And hands which offer early flowers,
Walk smiling o'er this paradise;
Above the frequent feudal towers
Through green leaves lift their walls of gray,
And many a rock which steeply lowers,
And noble arch in proud decay,
Look o'er this vale of vintage-bowers.

But one thing want these banks of Rhine,
Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine!

Lord Byron.