[5] All hail to thee, my Emperor! Full of joy in their accomplished work, thy people greet thee, whom they have always known to be of noble mind.
[6] As your swords leap from their scabbards, let a song, O my brothers, come from your hearts! Let the song of songs resound through your rejoicing ranks—bright as burnished armour, clear as ringing steel, the song of the Garde-National!
[7] Let the black draperies flutter in the wind, and let a sad lament resound for those who have laid down their lives in the cause of liberty.
[8] Ye have rightly understood the nature of liberty; we cannot half possess her; if we but let her little finger be taken from us, she will soon be gone. That little finger is our honour. Who lets that go knows not what honour is. Therefore with strong arms and good swords ye have defended it.
[9] In secret hiding-place and gloom
Long time we have concealed it;
But now at last the day is come,
The day that has revealed it.
Ha! how the smoke is round it rolled!
Hurrah! thou Black and Red and Gold!
Powder is black,
Blood is red,
Golden glows the flame!
(JOYNES.)
[10] Des deutschen Volkes Erhebung im Jahre 1848, sein Kampf um freie Institutionen und sein Siegesjubel. Von J. Lasker und Fr. Gerhard. Danzig, 1848.
[11] Eine Rotte von Bösewichtern, meist aus Fremden bestehend, die sich seit einer Woche, obgleich aufgesucht, doch zu verbergen gewusst haben, haben diesen Umstand im Sinne ihrer argen Pläne durch augenscheinliche Lüge verdreht und die erhitzten Gemüther von vielen meiner treuen und lieben Berliner mit Rachegedanken um vermeintlich vergossenes Blut erfullt und sind so die greulichen Urheber von Blutvergiessen geworden.
[12] Des deutschen Volkes Erhebung, p. 54. Varnhagen: Tagebücher, Adolf Streckfuss: Erinnerungen aus dem Jahre1848; Der Zeitgeist, 1889, Nr. 51.
[13] With bullets through and through our breast—our forehead split with spike and spear,
So bear us onward shoulder-high, laid dead upon a blood-stained bier;
Yea, shoulder-high above the crowd, that on the man that bade us die,
Our dreadful death-distorted face may be a bitter curse for aye;
That he may see it day and night, or when he wakes or when he sleeps,
Or when he opes his holy book, or when with wine high revel keeps;
That ever like a scorching brand that sight his secret soul may burn;
That he may ne'er escape its curse, nor know to whom for aid to turn;
That always each disfeatured face, each gaping wound his sight may sear,
And brood above his bed of death, and curdle all his blood with fear!
[14] PRUSSIAN MISUNDERSTANDINGS.