Das Land und Volk gefiel mir wohl! Sein Vaterland muß größer sein! Was ist des Deutschen Vaterland? Sein Vaterland muß größer sein! Was ist des Deutschen Vaterland? Das, wack'rer Deutscher nenne dein. Das ist des Deutschen Vaterland, Das soll es sein, Das, wack'rer Deutscher nenne dein. Das ist des Deutschen Vaterland, Das ganze Deutschland soll es sein. Ernst Moritz Arndt. Such lands and people please me well. His fatherland's not bounded so! Which is the German's fatherland? Ah, no, no, His fatherland's not bounded so! Which is the German's fatherland? 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- To sweep from many an old romantic strain Lied Im Rhein, im schönen Strome, Im Dom, da steht ein Bildnis, 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! 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 IN the Rhine, that beautiful river, The sacred town of Cologne, With its vast cathedral, is ever A picture on golden leather In that fair cathedral is seen; The flowers and angels hover 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, But one thing want these banks of Rhine, Lord Byron. |