All Germany that land shall be:

Watch o'er it, God, and grant that we, With German hearts, in deed and thought, May love it truly as we ought.

Be this the land,

All Germany shall be the land!

From the German of ERNST MORITZ ARNDT.

PATRIOTIC SONG.

GOD, who gave iron, purposed ne'er
That man should be a slave:
Therefore the sabre, sword, and spear
In his right hand He gave.
Therefore He gave him fiery mood,

Fierce speech, and free-born breath, That he might fearlessly the feud Maintain through life and death.

Therefore will we what God did say,
With honest truth maintain,
And ne'er a fellow-creature slay,
A tyrant's pay to gain!

But he shall fall by stroke of brand
Who fights for sin and shame,

And not inherit German land

With men of German name.

O Germany, bright fatherland!

O German love, so true!

Thou sacred land, thou beauteous land,
We swear to thee anew!

Outlawed, each knave and coward shall

The crow and raven feed;

But we will to the battle all

Revenge shall be our meed.

Flash forth, flash forth, whatever can,
To bright and flaming life!

Now all ye Germans, man for man,
Forth to the holy strife!

Your hands lift upward to the sky-
Your heart shall upward soar―
And man for man, let each one cry,
Our slavery is o'er!

Let sound, let sound, whatever can,
Trumpet and fife and drum,
This day our sabres, man for man,
To stain with blood we come;

With hangman's and with Frenchmen's blood, O glorious day of ire,

That to all Germans soundeth good

Day of our great desire!

Let wave, let wave, whatever can,
Standard and banner wave!

Here will we purpose, man for man,
To grace a hero's grave.
Advance, ye brave ranks, hardily—
Your banners wave on high;

We'll gain us freedom's victory,

Or freedom's death we'll die!

From the German of ERNST MORITZ ARNDT.

MEN AND BOYS.

THE storm is out; the land is roused;
Where is the coward who sits well housed?
Fie on thee, boy, disguised in curls,
Behind the stove, 'mong gluttons and girls!
A graceless, worthless wight thou must be;
No German maid desires thee,
No German song inspires thee,
No German Rhine-wine fires thee.
Forth in the van,

Man by man,

Swing the battle-sword who can!

When we stand watching, the livelong night,
Through piping storms, till morning light,
Thou to thy downy bed canst creep,
And there in dreams of rapture sleep.

A graceless, worthless wight, etc.

When, hoarse and shrill, the trumpet's blast, Like the thunder of God, makes our heart beat

fast,

Thou in the theatre lov'st to appear,

Where trills and quavers tickle the ear.

A graceless, worthless wight, etc.

When the glare of noonday scorches the brain,
When our parched lips seek water in vain,
Thou canst make champagne corks fly

At the groaning tables of luxury.

A graceless, worthless wight, etc.

When we, as we rush to the strangling fight,
Send home to our true-loves a long "Good-night,"
Thou canst hie thee where love is sold,

And buy thy pleasure with paltry gold.
A graceless, worthless wight, etc.

When lance and bullet come whistling by,
And death in a thousand shapes draws nigh,
Thou canst sit at thy cards, and kill
King, queen, and knave with thy spadille.
A graceless, worthless wight, etc.

If on the red field our bell should toll,
Then welcome be death to the patriot's soul!
Thy pampered flesh shall quake at its doom,
And crawl in silk to a hopeless tomb.

A pitiful exit thine shall be;

No German maid shall weep for thee,
No German song shall they sing for thee,
No German goblets shall ring for thee.
Forth in the van,

Man for man,

Swing the battle-sword who can!

From the German of KARL THEODOR KÖRNER.
Translation of CHARLES TIMOTHY BROOKS.

THE WATCH ON THE RHINE.*

A VOICE resounds like thunder-peal,
'Mid dashing waves and clang of steel:-
"The Rhine, the Rhine, the German Rhine!
Who guards to-day my stream divine?"

Chorus.

Dear Fatherland, no danger thine:
Firm stand thy sons to watch the Rhine!

They stand, a hundred thousand strong,
Quick to avenge their country's wrong;
With filial love their bosoms swell,
They'll guard the sacred landmark well!

The dead of a heroic race

From heaven look down and meet their gaze;
They swear with dauntless heart, "O Rhine,
Be German as this breast of mine!"

While flows one drop of German blood,
Or sword remains to guard thy flood,
While rifle rests in patriot hand,-
No foe shall tread thy sacred strand!

Our oath resounds, the river flows,
In golden light our banner glows;

Written by a manufacturer of Wurtemburg in 1840, when France was threatening the left bank of the Rhine. It was set to music by Carl Wilhelm, and during the Franco-Prussian war of 1871 was adopted as the national folk-hymn and rallying cry of the army.