CAPUT XI.
Behold the wood of Teutoburg,
Described in Tacitus’ pages;
Behold the classical marsh, wherein
Stuck Varus, in past ages.
Here vanquish’d him the Cheruscian prince,
The noble giant, named Hermann;[50]
’Twas in this mire that triumph’d first
Our nationality German.
Had Hermann with his light-hair’d hordes
Not triumph’d here over the foeman,
Then German freedom had come to an end,
We had each been turn’d to a Roman!
Nought but Roman language and manners had now
Our native country ruled over,
In Munich lived Vestals, the Swabians e’en
As Quirites have flourish’d in clover!
An harúspex had Hengstenberg surely been,
And groped about in the bowels
Of oxen; Neander[51] an Augur, and based
On flights of birds his avowals.
Birch-Pfeifer[52] had tippled her turpentine,
Like the Roman ladies admired.
(’Tis said that they, by its frequent use,
A pleasing odour acquired).
Friend Raumer[53] had been no German scamp,
But a regular Roman Scampatius,
And Freiligrath written without using rhyme,
Like worthy Flaccus Horatius.
The clumsy beggar, Father Jahn,[54]
Had then been call’d Clumsianus;
Me Hercule! Massmann[55] would Latin have talk’d,
As Marcus Tullius Massmanus!
The friends of truth, instead of with curs
In the papers, would in the arena
Have had to wage a mortal fight
With the lion, jackal, hyena.