Oh, when shall I visit the land of my birth—
The loveliest land on the face of the earth?
When shall I those scenes of affection explore,
Our forests, our fountains,
Our hamlets, our mountains,
With pride of our mountains, the maid I adore?
Oh, when shall I dance on the daisy-white mead,
In the shade of an elm, to the sound of a reed?
When shall I return to that lowly retreat,
Where all my fond objects of tenderness meet,—
The lambs and the heifers, that follow my call,
My father, my mother,
My sister, my brother,
And dear Isabella, the joy of them all?
Oh, when shall I visit the land of my birth?—
'Tis the loveliest land on the face of the earth.
GERMAN WAR-SONG.[69]
Heaven speed the righteous sword,
And freedom be the word;
Come, brethren, hand in hand,
Fight for your fatherland.
Germania from afar
Invokes her sons to war;
Awake! put forth your powers,
And victory must be ours.
On to the combat, on!
Go where your sires have gone;
Their might unspent remains,
Their pulse is in our veins.
On to the battle, on!
Rest will be sweet anon;
The slave may yield, may fly,—
We conquer, or we die!
O Liberty! thy form
Shines through the battle-storm.
Away with fear, away!
Let justice win the day.