Ye that are in castles dwelling,
    Or in towns that grace our soil,
  Farmers that in harvests swelling
    Reap the fruits of German toil—­
  German brothers dear, united,
    Mark my words both old and new! 
  That our land may stay unblighted,
    Keep this concord, and be true!

* * * * *

  FREEDOM[16] (1815)

  Freedom that I love,
    Shining in my heart,
  Come now from above,
    Angel that thou art.

  Wilt thou ne’er appear
    To the world oppressed? 
  With thy grace and cheer
    Only stars are blessed?

  In the forest gay
    When the trees are green,
  ’Neath the blooming spray,
    Freedom, thou art seen.

  Oh, what dear delight! 
    Music fills the air,
  And thy secret might
    Thrills us everywhere,

  When the rustling boughs
    Friendly greetings send,
  When we lovers’ vows
    Looks and kisses spend.

  But the heart aspires
    Upward evermore,
  And our high desires
    Ever sky-ward soar.

  From his simple kind
    Comes my rustic child,
  Shows his heart and mind
    To the world beguiled;

  For him gardens bloom,
    For him fields have grown,
  Even in, the gloom
    Of a world of stone.

  Where in that man’s breast
    Glows a God-sent flame
  Who with loyal zest
    Loves the ancient name,

  Where the men unite
    Valiantly to face
  Foes of honor’s right—­
    There dwells freedom’s race.

  Ramparts, brazen doors
    Still may bar the light,
  Yet the spirit soars
    Into regions bright;

  For the fathers’ grave,
    For the church to fall,
  And for dear ones—­brave,
    True at freedom’s call—­

  That indeed is light,
    Glowing rosy-red;
  Heroes’ cheeks grow bright
    And more fair when dead.

  Down to us, oh, guide
    Heaven’s grace, we pray! 
  In our hearts reside—­
    German hearts—­to stay!

  Freedom sweet and fair,
    Trusting, void of fear,
  German nature e’er
    Was to thee most clear.

LUDWIG UHLAND

* * * * *

  THE CHAPEL[17] (1805)

  Yonder chapel, on the mountain,
    Looks upon a vale of joy;
  There, below, by moss and fountain,
    Gaily sings the herdsman’s boy.

  Hark!  Upon the breeze descending,
    Sound of dirge and funeral bell;
  And the boy, his song suspending,
    Listens, gazing from the dell.

  Homeward to the grave they’re bringing
    Forms that graced the peaceful vale;
  Youthful herdsman, gaily singing! 
    Thus they’ll chant thy funeral wail.

* * * * *

  THE SHEPHERD’S SONG ON THE LORD’S DAY[18] (1805)