162 TO MY SISTER, ON THE EVE OF HER MARRIAGE. Nor canst thou a brother's fond caress, Or a sister's searching tenderness; Grieve I too for summer flowers, In calm weather 1 Cull'd together, And the merriment of fireside hours. Something whispers, though our heartstrings cannot sever, And my tears shall flow with thine, brother, At the sound of those quick chimes; And the thought of home my father and my motherOverfloods my heart at times; And my grief will have its way: And though to-morrow Joy chaseth sorrow, Sorrow chaseth joy to-day. Tell me, wherefore should I lull myself asleep? Let me weep, brother, — let me weep. 1 "In a season of calm weather." - WORDSWORTH. V. Nay, I will not, cannot, sister, see them flow: Weep no more, weep no more. There is solace from the deepest of our woe, That our partings will ere long be o'er. We are one in joys undying, In the family of Heaven, And we mourn not, like the Pleiads ever sighing, "We have lost our sister we were seven." Still, however wide our pilgrim footsteps roam, Bright and glorious Lie before us Mansions in an everlasting home. Trust me, sister; wherefore dost thou weep so sore? Weep no more, sister, weep no more. For my spirit catches all the bloom of thine, Nor can I in thy prime of bliss repine, Sweet sister mine. DER AUSRUF. TRANSLATED FROM KÖRNer. I. HORROR-BODING, wild and ruddy, Looms the morning, strange as night, And the sunbeams, cold and bloody, In the coming hour's bosom Clasp'd the fates of nations lie, And the lot already trembles, And there falls the iron die! There's a claim on thee, brother, of holiest power, And a pledge to redeem in this dawning hour; True in life, true in death, when life has pass'd by. II. In the gloom of night behind us And the wrecks that still remind us Strangers cleft Germania's oak: Spurn'd is the tongue we lisp'd in childhood, But our faith is pledged, brethren, redeem that pledge of woe. Haste There are flames in our land, - up, brethren! and slay, That the vengeance of Heaven may turn away The Palladium lost redeem from the foe. III. Blissful visions lie before us, Lie the future's golden years, Stretch blue heavens their curtains o'er us, German art and German music, Beauty, love's entrancing chain, All that's noble, all that's lovely, Float in prospect back again. But a death-bearing venture is yet to be pass'd On the chance must our life and our life-blood be cast, And Joy only blooms o'er the victim slain. Death IV. now with our God we'll dare it, Hand in hand our fate defy, And our frail heart, sternly bear it To the altar, there to die. Here we yield our life for thee, That our loved ones may inherit What our blood bequeaths them free. May thy free oaks, my fatherland, proudly wave V. Give ye yet one blessed token Of a glance towards beauty's bowers, |