But, alas, how near is the foe!  The Rhine with its waters
Guards us, indeed; but, ah, what now are rivers and mountains
’Gainst that terrible people that onward bears like a tempest! 
For they summon their youths from every quarter together,
Call up their old men too, and press with violence forward. 
Death cannot frighten the crowd:  one multitude follows another. 
And shall a German dare to linger behind in his homestead? 
Hopes he perhaps to escape the everywhere threatened evil? 
Nay, dear mother, I tell thee, today has made me regretful
That I was lately exempt, when out of our townsmen were chosen
Those who should serve in the army.  An only son I am truly,
Also our business is great, and the charge of our household is weighty. 
Yet were it better, I deem, in the front to offer resistance
There on the border, than here to await disaster and bondage. 
So has my spirit declared, and deep in my innermost bosom
Courage and longing have now been aroused to live for my country,
Yea, and to die, presenting to others a worthy example. 
If but the strength of Germany’s youth were banded together
There on the frontier, resolved that it never would yield to the stranger,
Ah, he should not on our glorious soil be setting his footsteps,
Neither consuming before our eyes the fruit of our labor,
Ruling our men, and making his prey of our wives and our daughters. 
Hark to me, mother:  for I in the depths of my heart am determined
Quickly to do, and at once, what appears to me right and in reason;
For he chooses not always the best who longest considers. 
Hearken, I shall not again return to the house; but directly
Go from this spot to the city, and there present to the soldiers
This right arm and this heart, to be spent in the fatherland’s service. 
Then let my father say if there be no feeling of honor
Dwelling within my breast, nor a wish to raise myself higher.”

Then with significant words spoke the good and intelligent mother,
While from her eyes the quick-starting tears were silently falling: 
“Son, what change has come o’er thee today, and over thy temper,
That thou speakest no more, as thou yesterday didst, and hast always,
Open and free, to thy mother, and tellest exactly thy wishes? 
Any one else, had he heard thee thus speak, would in sooth have commended,
And this decision of thine would have highly approved as most noble,
Being misled by thy tone and by thy significant language. 
Yet have I nothing but censure to speak; for better I know thee. 
Thou concealest thy heart, and thy thoughts are not such as thou tellest. 
Well do I know that it is not the drum, not the trumpet that calls thee: 
Neither in uniform wouldst thou figure in sight of the maidens;
Since, for all thou art honest and brave, it is thy vocation
Here in quiet to care for the farm and provide for the household. 
Tell me honestly, therefore, what goads thee to such a decision?”