Ring on ever, tongue of old,
  Tongue of lovers, heroes bold! 
    Rise, old song, though lost for ages,
  From thy secret tomb, and go
    Live again in sacred pages,
  Set all hearts once more aglow.

  Breath of God is everywhere,
  Custom sacred here as there. 
    Yet when I give thanks, am praying,
  A beloved heart would seek,
    When my highest thoughts I’m saying—­
  Then my mother tongue I speak.

[Illustration:  MAXIMILIAN GOTTFRIED VON SCHENKENDORF]

* * * * *

  SPRING GREETING TO THE FATHERLAND[15] (1814)

  Fatherland, thy pleasures greet me
    After bondage, war’s distress! 
  I must steep my soul completely
    Here in all thy gorgeousness. 
  Where the oak-trees murmur mildly
    With their crowns to heaven raised,
  Mighty streams are roaring wildly—­
    There the German land be praised.

  From the Rhinefall, all delighted,
    I have walked, from Danube’s spring;
  Mildly, in my soul benighted
    Love-stars rose, illumining;
  Now I would descend, and brightly
    Radiate a joyous shine
  Into Neckar’s valleys sprightly,
    O’er the blue and silver Main.

  Onward fly, my message, bringing
    Freedom’s greeting evermore,
  Far away thou shalt be ringing
    By my home on Memel’s shore. 
  Where the German tongue is spoken,
    Hearts have fought to make her free—­
  Fought right gladly—­there unbroken
    Stays our sacred Germany.

  All with sunlight seems a-blazing,
    All things seem adorned with green—­
  Pastures where the herds are grazing,
    Hills where ripening grapes are seen. 
  Such a spring time has not graced thee,
    Fatherland, for thousand years;
  Glory of thy fathers faced thee
    Once in dreams, and now appears.

  Once more weapons must be wielded;
    Go, a spirit-fray begin,
  Till the latest foe has yielded—­
    He who threatens you within. 
  Passions vile ye should be blighting,
    Hate, suspicion, envy, greed—­
  Then take, after heavy fighting,
    German hearts, the rest ye need.

  Then shall all men be possessing
    Honor, humbleness, and might,
  And thus only can the blessing
    Sent our monarch shine with right. 
  All the ancient sins must perish—­
    In the God-sent deluge all,
  And the heritage we cherish
    To a worthy heir must fall.

  God has blessed the grain that’s growing
    And the vineyard’s fruit no less;
  Men with hunter’s joy are glowing;
    In the homes reigns happiness. 
  And our freedom’s sure foundation,
    Pious longing, fills the breast;
  Love that charms in every nation
    In our German land is best.