 | The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival |  |
XIII.
THE GERMAN EMIGRANT'S SONG.
O Deutschland, our good Fatherland!
Where grows the vine, along the Rhine;
Where far the Alpine summits stand,
And o'er the free-born Switzer shine;
Where bright thy southern summer glows,
Thy northern winter sleeps in snows:
Thy pine-clad hills, thy heaths of sand,
All linked by Union's golden band,
Thou art our fathers' Fatherland.
Where grows the vine, along the Rhine;
Where far the Alpine summits stand,
And o'er the free-born Switzer shine;
Where bright thy southern summer glows,
Thy northern winter sleeps in snows:
Thy pine-clad hills, thy heaths of sand,
All linked by Union's golden band,
Thou art our fathers' Fatherland.
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O Deutschland, blue-eyed Herman's home!
Thou, earliest free, thy liberty
Hast sent where'er the Saxon roam;
Earth's new-born freedom sprang from thee.
First o'er thy woods it dawned, nor yet
Has there its pure effulgence set:
On to the west still rolls the day,
O'er ocean holds its heavenward way;
Its Fatherland, still thou for aye.
Thou, earliest free, thy liberty
Hast sent where'er the Saxon roam;
Earth's new-born freedom sprang from thee.
First o'er thy woods it dawned, nor yet
Has there its pure effulgence set:
On to the west still rolls the day,
O'er ocean holds its heavenward way;
Its Fatherland, still thou for aye.
My Country! Home, where first I heard,
Full, deep, and strong, the patriot song,—
First learned to lisp the sacred word,
As pealed the bells thy vales along,—
Still with thee faith and honor dwell;
The oath we swear, we keep it well:
Nor needs our faith so strong a token;
A grasp of hand, a pledge just spoken,
Sure as our hearts, is never broken.
Full, deep, and strong, the patriot song,—
First learned to lisp the sacred word,
As pealed the bells thy vales along,—
Still with thee faith and honor dwell;
The oath we swear, we keep it well:
Nor needs our faith so strong a token;
A grasp of hand, a pledge just spoken,
Sure as our hearts, is never broken.
O Deutschland, our own Fatherland!
Though distant far, thou, like a star,
Beamest on us from the Frisian strand;
Our hearts, our loves, still centre there:
Still we behold the purpling vine,
Full clustered, crown the noble Rhine.
O, may thy sons, by valor manned,
With earnest soul, and strenuous hand,
Strike for thee, sacred Fatherland!
Though distant far, thou, like a star,
Beamest on us from the Frisian strand;
Our hearts, our loves, still centre there:
Still we behold the purpling vine,
Full clustered, crown the noble Rhine.
O, may thy sons, by valor manned,
With earnest soul, and strenuous hand,
Strike for thee, sacred Fatherland!
| The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | |