The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Vii Part 84

Across the yellow desert they wound As a s.h.i.+ning river might flow, The sun it pierced through their helmets' round Like an arrow shot from a bow.

The desert was still, there breathed no gust, All limply the flags were streaming, When up to the sky rose a cloud of dust Whence lightning of spears was gleaming.

The desert was thronged, the din grew loud, The dust was on every side.

And thick as rain from each bursting cloud Did the spear-armed Saracens ride.

Ten thousand lances glittered to right, Ten thousand sparkled to left, "Allah il Allah!" they shouted to right, "Il Allah!" they echoed to left.

The Douglas drew his bridle rein, And still stood earl and knight; "By the cross on which our Lord was slain 'Twill be a deadly fight!"

A n.o.ble chain his neck embraced In golden windings three.

The locket to his lips he placed And kissed it fervently:

"Since thou hast ever gone before, O heart, by night and day, E'en so today do thou once more Precede me in the fray.

"And now may G.o.d this boon bestow, As I to thee have been true, That I may strike a Christian blow Against this heathen crew."

He threw his s.h.i.+eld o'er his left side, Bound on his helm so proud, And as to battle he did ride, He rose and called aloud:

"Who brings this locket back to me Be his the day's renown!"

Then 'mid the paynims mightily He hurled the king's heart down.

Each made the cross with his left thumb, The right hand held the lance, No fear had they though fiends had come To check their bold advance.

A sudden crash, a headlong flight, And mad death raging around-- But when the sun sank in the sea's blue light From the desert there came no sound.

For the pride of the east was there laid low In the sweep of the death-strewed plain, And the sand so red in the afterglow Would never be white again.

Of all the heathen, by G.o.d's good grace Not one had escaped that harm, Short patience have men of the Scottish race And ever a long sword-arm!

But where had been the fellest strife, There lay in the moonlight clear The good Earl Douglas, reft of life By a h.e.l.lish heathen spear.

All cleft and rent was the mail he wore, And finished his mortal smart.

Yet under his s.h.i.+eld he clasped once more King Robert Bruce's heart.

GEORG HERWEGH

THE STIRRUP-CUP[49] (1840)

The anxious night is gone at last, Silent and mute we gallop past And ride to our destiny.

How keen the morning breezes blow!

Hostess, one gla.s.s more ere we go, We go to die!

Thou soft young gra.s.s, why now so green?

Soon like the rose shall be thy sheen, My blood thee red shall dye.

The first quick sip with sword in hand I drink, a toast to our native land, For our native land to die.

Now for the next, the time is short, The next to Freedom, the queen we court,-- The fiery cup drain dry!

These dregs--to whom shall we dedicate?

To thee, Imperial German State, For the German State to die!

My sweetheart!--But there's no more wine-- The bullets whistle, the lance heads s.h.i.+ne-- To her the gla.s.s where the fragments lie!

Up! Like a whirlwind into the fray!

O horseman's joy, at the break of day, At the break of day to die!

[Ill.u.s.tration: GEORG HERWEGH]

EMANUEL GEIBEL

THE WATCHMAN'S SONG[50] (1840)

Wake--awake! The cry rings out; From the high watch-tower comes the shout.

Awake, imperial German land-- Ye by distant Danube dwelling, And where the infant Rhine is swelling, And where the bleak dunes pile their sand!

For hearth and home keep watch, Sword from its scabbard s.n.a.t.c.h; Every hour For bitter fight Prepare aright-- The day of combat is in sight!

Hear in the East the ominous cry That tells a greedy foe draws nigh-- The vulture, thirsting for the strife.

Hear in the west the serpent's hiss Whose siren-fangs are set for this, To poison all your virtuous life.

Near is the vulture's swoop; The serpent coils to stoop For the stroke; Then watch and pray Until the day-- Your swords be sharpened for the fray!

Pure in life, in faith as strong, Let no man do your courage wrong; Be one, what time the trump shall sound.

Cleanse your souls by fervent prayer, That so the Lord may find them fair When He shall make His questioning round, The Cross be still your pride, Your banner and your guide In the battle!

Who in the field Their fealty yield To G.o.d, victorious weapons wield.

Look Thou down from heaven above, Thou Whom the angels praise and love-- Be gracious to our German land!

Speak from the clouds with thunder-voice; Princes and people of Thy choice, Unite them with a mighty hand.

Be Thou our fortress-tower, Bring us through danger's hour.

Hallelujah!

Thine is today And shall alway Kingdom, and power, and glory stay!

[Ill.u.s.tration: E. HADER EMANUEL GEIBEL]

THE CALL OF THE ROAD[51] (1841)

Sweet May it is come, and the trees are in bloom-- Who wills may sit listless with sorrow at home!

As the clouds go a-roving up there in the sky, So away for a life of adventure am I!

Kind father, dear mother, G.o.d be with you now!

Who knows what my fortune is waiting to show?

There is many a road that I never have gone, There is many a wine that I never have known.