Classic Poem

FROM THE GERMAN OF KÖRNER .

What gleams from yon wood in the splendor of day?
Hark! hear its wild din rushing nearer!
It hither approaches in gloomy array,
While loud sounding horns peal their blast on its way,
The soul overwhelming with terror!
Those swart companions you view in the race, —
Those are Lützow's roving, wild, venturous chase!

What swiftly moves on through yon dark forest glade,
From mountain to mountain deploying?
They place themselves nightly in ambuscade,
They shout the hurrah, and they draw the keen blade,
The French usurpers destroying!
Those swart Yagers bounding from place to place, —
Those are Lützow's roving, wild, venturous chase!

Where, midst glowing vines, as the Rhine murmurs by,
The tyrant securely is sleeping; —
They swiftly approach, 'neath the storm-glaring sky;
With vigorous arms o'er the waters they ply;
Soon safe on his island-shore leaping!
Those swarthy swimmers whose wake you trace,
Those are Lützow's roving, wild, venturous chase!

Whence sweeps from yon valley the battle's loud roar,
Where swords in thick carnage are clashing?
Fierce horsemen encounter, 'mid lightnings and gore;
The spark of true freedom is kindled once more,
From war's bloody altars out-flashing!
Those horsemen swart who the combat face,
Those are Lützow's roving, wild, venturous chase!

Who smile their adieu to the light of the sun,
'Mid fallen foes moaning their bravery?
Death creeps o'er their visage, — their labors are done; —
Their valiant hearts tremble not; — victory's won;
Their fatherland rescued from slavery!
Those swart warriors fallen in death's embrace,
Those were Lützow's roving, wild, venturous chase!

The wild German Yagers, — their glorious careers
Dealt death to the tyrant oppressor!
Then weep not, dear friends, for the true volunteers,
When the morn of our fatherland's freedom appears;
Since we alone died to redress her.
Our mem'ry transmitted, no time shall erase: —