GERMANY. 1815.
Let me sing Germania’s glory!
Hearken to my noblest strains!
While my spirit tells the story,
Thrilling bliss runs through my veins.
Time’s book is before me lying,
All things that have happened here,
Good with Evil ever vying—
All before my gaze stands clear.
From the Frenchman’s distant nation
Hell approach’d, with impious hand,
Bringing shame and desecration
On our much-loved German land.
All our faith and virtue soiling,
All our heavenly yearnings fled,
All we deemed of worth, despoiling,—
Giving sin and pain instead.
German shame to gild refusing,
Dark the German sun soon grew,
And a mournful voice accusing
Pierced the German oak trees through.
Now the sun once more is glancing,
And the oak trees roar with joy;
The avengers are advancing,
Shame and sorrow to destroy.
And deceit’s proud altars hateful
Totter, fall with hideous sound;
Every German heart is grateful,
Free is German holy ground.
See’st the glare yon mount illuming?
Say, what can that wild flame be?
Yes! that fire proclaims the blooming
Image pure of Germany.
From the night of sin emerging
Germany uninjured stands;
Wildly is the spot still surging,
Where that fair form burst her bands.