The Chaunt By The Rhine
Te verò appello sanctissimum F LUMEN , tibique futura prædico: torrenti sanguine plenus ad ripas usque erumpes, undæque divinæ non solum polluentur sanguine, sed totæ rumpentur, et viris multo major erit numerus sepultorum. Quid fles, O Asclepi?—T HE A SCLEPIAN Dialogue .
FIRST VOICE .
(From Germany.)
Flash the sword!—and even as thunder
Utter ye one living voice,—
While the watching nations wonder,
Hills of Fatherland, rejoice:
Echo!—echo back our prayers and acclamations!
SECOND VOICE .
(From France.)
France, O Mother! lie and hearken,
Make no bitterer sign of woe,
Here within thee all things darken,
All things brighten with thy foe:
Hush thy weeping; still thy bitter lamentations.
FIRST VOICE .
Flash the sword!—A voice is flowing
From the Baltic bound in white,
Though 'tis blowing chill and snowing,
Blue-eyed Teutons see the light.
And the far white hills of Norway hear the crying.
SECOND VOICE .
Thou too hearkenest, Mother dearest,
Thou too hearkenest through thy tears,
And thou tremblest as thou hearest,
For 'tis thunder in thine ears;
And thou gazest on the dead and on the dying.
FIRST VOICE .
Lübeck answers and rejoices,
Though her dead are brought to her;
Potsdam thunders; there are voices
In the fields of Hanover;
And the spirits of the lonely Hartz awaken.
SECOND VOICE .
And in France's vales and mountains
Hands are wrung and tears are shed;
Women sit by village fountains,
And the water bubbles red.
O comfort, O be of comfort—ye forsaken!
FIRST VOICE .
O'er Bavarian woods and rivers,
Where the Brunswick heather waves,
On the glory goes and quivers
Through the Erzgebirge caves;
And the swords of Styria gleam like moonlit water.
SECOND VOICE .
There is silence, there is weeping,
On the bloody banks of Seine,
And the unburied dead are sleeping
In the fields of trampled grain;
While the roadside Christs stare down on fields of slaughter.
FIRST VOICE .
Flash the sword! Where need is sorest,
Sitting in the lonely night,
While the wind in the Black Forest
Moans, the woodman sees the light;
And the hunters wind the horn and hail each other.
SECOND VOICE .
Strasbourg sits among her ashes
With a last despairing cry;
East and west red ruin flashes
With a red light on the sky.
Not a word! Sit yet and hearken, O my Mother!
FIRST VOICE .
Flash the sword! The glades of Baden
Echo; Jena laughs anon;
Dresden old and Stuttgart gladden,
There is mirth in Ratisbon:—
And underneath the Linden there is leaping.
SECOND VOICE .
In thine arms the horror tarries,
And the sword-flash gleams on thee,
Hide thy funeral face, O Paris,
Do not hearken; do not see;
Electra, clasp thine urn, and hush thy weeping.
FIRST VOICE .
Hamburg kindles, and her women
Sadly smile remembering all;
There are bitter smiles in Bremen,
Where Vandamme's fierce feet did fall;
But the Katzbach, O the Katzbach laugheth loudly!
SECOND VOICE .
Comfort, Mother! hear not, heed not;
Let the dead bury the dead!
Fold thy powerless hands and plead not,
They remember sorrows fled,
And their dead go by them, silently and proudly.
FIRST VOICE .
O that Fritz's soul could hear it
In the walks of Sans Souci!
O to waken Lützow's spirit,
Blücher's too, the grim and free;
And the Jäger, the wild Jäger, would they listen'd!
SECOND VOICE .
Comfort, Mother! O cease weeping!
Let the past bury the past:
Faces of the slain and sleeping
Gleam along upon the blast.
Yea, 'twas ‘Leipsic’ that they murmur'd as they glisten'd.
FIRST VOICE .
All the land of the great River
Slowly brightens near and far;
Lost for once, and saved for ever,
Körner's spirit like a star
Shooteth past, and all remember the beginning.
SECOND VOICE .
They are rising, they are winging,
Spirits of her singers dead:
'Tis an old song they are singing,
Fold thy hands and bow thy head,
But they sing for thee too, gentle to thy sinning.
FIRST VOICE .
And the River to the ocean
Rolls; and all its castles dim
Gleam; and with a shadowy motion,
Like a mist upon its brim,
Rise the Dead,—and look this way with shining faces.
SECOND VOICE .
Thine, too, rise!—and darkly cluster,
Moaning sad around thee now,
In their eyes there is no lustre,
They are cold as thy cold brow—
Let them vanish; let them sleep in their dark places.
FIRST VOICE .
Flash the sword! In the fair valleys
Where the scented Neckar flows,
Fair-hair'd Teutons lift the chalice,
And the winter vineyard grows,
And the almond forests tremble into blossom.
SECOND VOICE .
On thy vineyards the cold daylight
Gleams, and they are deadly chill;
Women wander in the grey light,
And the lean trees whistle shrill;
Hold thine urn, O martyr Mother, to thy bosom.
FIRST VOICE .
Flash the sword! Sweet notes of pleasure
O'er the Rhenish upland swell,
And the overhanging azure
Sees itself in the Moselle.
All the land of the great River gleams and hearkens!
SECOND VOICE .
Dost thou hear them? dost thou see them?
There 'tis gladness, here 'tis pain;
One great Spirit comes to free them,
But he holds thee with a chain.
All the land of the great City weeps and darkens!
FIRST VOICE .
River of the mighty people,
Broaden to the sea and flow,
Mirror tilth and farm and steeple,
Darken with boats that come and go.
Smile gently, like a babe that smiles and prattles.
SECOND VOICE .
Yea! and though thou flow for ever,
Bright and bloodless as to-day,
Scarcely wilt thou wash, O River,
Thy dark load of dead away,
O bloody River! O field of many battles!
FIRST VOICE .
On with great immortal waters
Brightening to a day divine,
Through the fields of many slaughters
Freely roll, O German Rhine.
Let the Teuton drink thy wine and wax the stronger.
SECOND VOICE .
On and on, O mighty River,
Flow through lands of corn and vine—
Turn away, O France, for ever,
Look no more upon the Rhine;
On the River of many sorrows look no longer.
FIRST VOICE .
Lo! the white Alps for a token
With the wild aurora gleam,
And the Spectre of the Brocken
Stands aloft with locks that stream,—
All the land of the great River can behold it!
SECOND VOICE .
Hide thine eyes and look not thither!
For, in answer to their cries,
Fierce the Phantasm gazeth hither
With an Avenging Angel's eyes;
It is fading, and the mists of storm enfold it!
FIRST VOICE .
(From Germany.)
Flash the sword!—and even as thunder
Utter ye one living voice,—
While the watching nations wonder,
Hills of Fatherland, rejoice:
Echo!—echo back our prayers and acclamations!
SECOND VOICE .
(From France.)
France, O Mother! lie and hearken,
Make no bitterer sign of woe,
Here within thee all things darken,
All things brighten with thy foe:
Hush thy weeping; still thy bitter lamentations.
FIRST VOICE .
Flash the sword!—A voice is flowing
From the Baltic bound in white,
Though 'tis blowing chill and snowing,
Blue-eyed Teutons see the light.
And the far white hills of Norway hear the crying.
SECOND VOICE .
Thou too hearkenest, Mother dearest,
Thou too hearkenest through thy tears,
And thou tremblest as thou hearest,
For 'tis thunder in thine ears;
And thou gazest on the dead and on the dying.
FIRST VOICE .
Lübeck answers and rejoices,
Though her dead are brought to her;
Potsdam thunders; there are voices
In the fields of Hanover;
And the spirits of the lonely Hartz awaken.
SECOND VOICE .
And in France's vales and mountains
Hands are wrung and tears are shed;
Women sit by village fountains,
And the water bubbles red.
O comfort, O be of comfort—ye forsaken!
FIRST VOICE .
O'er Bavarian woods and rivers,
Where the Brunswick heather waves,
On the glory goes and quivers
Through the Erzgebirge caves;
And the swords of Styria gleam like moonlit water.
SECOND VOICE .
There is silence, there is weeping,
On the bloody banks of Seine,
And the unburied dead are sleeping
In the fields of trampled grain;
While the roadside Christs stare down on fields of slaughter.
FIRST VOICE .
Flash the sword! Where need is sorest,
Sitting in the lonely night,
While the wind in the Black Forest
Moans, the woodman sees the light;
And the hunters wind the horn and hail each other.
SECOND VOICE .
Strasbourg sits among her ashes
With a last despairing cry;
East and west red ruin flashes
With a red light on the sky.
Not a word! Sit yet and hearken, O my Mother!
FIRST VOICE .
Flash the sword! The glades of Baden
Echo; Jena laughs anon;
Dresden old and Stuttgart gladden,
There is mirth in Ratisbon:—
And underneath the Linden there is leaping.
SECOND VOICE .
In thine arms the horror tarries,
And the sword-flash gleams on thee,
Hide thy funeral face, O Paris,
Do not hearken; do not see;
Electra, clasp thine urn, and hush thy weeping.
FIRST VOICE .
Hamburg kindles, and her women
Sadly smile remembering all;
There are bitter smiles in Bremen,
Where Vandamme's fierce feet did fall;
But the Katzbach, O the Katzbach laugheth loudly!
SECOND VOICE .
Comfort, Mother! hear not, heed not;
Let the dead bury the dead!
Fold thy powerless hands and plead not,
They remember sorrows fled,
And their dead go by them, silently and proudly.
FIRST VOICE .
O that Fritz's soul could hear it
In the walks of Sans Souci!
O to waken Lützow's spirit,
Blücher's too, the grim and free;
And the Jäger, the wild Jäger, would they listen'd!
SECOND VOICE .
Comfort, Mother! O cease weeping!
Let the past bury the past:
Faces of the slain and sleeping
Gleam along upon the blast.
Yea, 'twas ‘Leipsic’ that they murmur'd as they glisten'd.
FIRST VOICE .
All the land of the great River
Slowly brightens near and far;
Lost for once, and saved for ever,
Körner's spirit like a star
Shooteth past, and all remember the beginning.
SECOND VOICE .
They are rising, they are winging,
Spirits of her singers dead:
'Tis an old song they are singing,
Fold thy hands and bow thy head,
But they sing for thee too, gentle to thy sinning.
FIRST VOICE .
And the River to the ocean
Rolls; and all its castles dim
Gleam; and with a shadowy motion,
Like a mist upon its brim,
Rise the Dead,—and look this way with shining faces.
SECOND VOICE .
Thine, too, rise!—and darkly cluster,
Moaning sad around thee now,
In their eyes there is no lustre,
They are cold as thy cold brow—
Let them vanish; let them sleep in their dark places.
FIRST VOICE .
Flash the sword! In the fair valleys
Where the scented Neckar flows,
Fair-hair'd Teutons lift the chalice,
And the winter vineyard grows,
And the almond forests tremble into blossom.
SECOND VOICE .
On thy vineyards the cold daylight
Gleams, and they are deadly chill;
Women wander in the grey light,
And the lean trees whistle shrill;
Hold thine urn, O martyr Mother, to thy bosom.
FIRST VOICE .
Flash the sword! Sweet notes of pleasure
O'er the Rhenish upland swell,
And the overhanging azure
Sees itself in the Moselle.
All the land of the great River gleams and hearkens!
SECOND VOICE .
Dost thou hear them? dost thou see them?
There 'tis gladness, here 'tis pain;
One great Spirit comes to free them,
But he holds thee with a chain.
All the land of the great City weeps and darkens!
FIRST VOICE .
River of the mighty people,
Broaden to the sea and flow,
Mirror tilth and farm and steeple,
Darken with boats that come and go.
Smile gently, like a babe that smiles and prattles.
SECOND VOICE .
Yea! and though thou flow for ever,
Bright and bloodless as to-day,
Scarcely wilt thou wash, O River,
Thy dark load of dead away,
O bloody River! O field of many battles!
FIRST VOICE .
On with great immortal waters
Brightening to a day divine,
Through the fields of many slaughters
Freely roll, O German Rhine.
Let the Teuton drink thy wine and wax the stronger.
SECOND VOICE .
On and on, O mighty River,
Flow through lands of corn and vine—
Turn away, O France, for ever,
Look no more upon the Rhine;
On the River of many sorrows look no longer.
FIRST VOICE .
Lo! the white Alps for a token
With the wild aurora gleam,
And the Spectre of the Brocken
Stands aloft with locks that stream,—
All the land of the great River can behold it!
SECOND VOICE .
Hide thine eyes and look not thither!
For, in answer to their cries,
Fierce the Phantasm gazeth hither
With an Avenging Angel's eyes;
It is fading, and the mists of storm enfold it!
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