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But, when the maid departed,
A Swabian raised his hand, And cried, all hot and flushed with wine,
“Long live the Swabian land !
“ The greatest kingdom upon earth
Cannot with that compare ; With all the stout and hardy men
And the nut-brown maidens there."
Ha!” cried a Saxon, laughing,
And dashed his beard with wine; “ I had rather live in Lapland,
Than that Swabian land of thine !
“The goodliest land on all this earth,
It is the Saxon land !
As fingers on this hand ! »
“Hold your tongues ! both Swabian and Saxon!”
A bold Bohemian cries; “ If there's a heaven upon this earth,
In Bohemia it lies.
6. There the tailor blows the flute,
And the cobler blows the horn, And the miner blows the bugle,
Over mountain gorge and bourn."
And then the landlord's daughter
Up to heaven raised her hand,
There lies the happiest land !”
FROM THE GERMAN OF TIEDGE.
“WHITHER, thou turbid wave ? Whither, with so niuch haste, As if a thief wert thou ?"
“I am the Wave of Life, Stained with my margin's dust ; From the struggle and the strife Of the narrow stream I fly To the Sea's immensity,
To wash from me the slime
Of the muddy banks of Time.”
FROM THE GERMAN OF KLOPSTOCK.
How they so softly rest,