FROM THE GERMAN OF KORNER.
Where is the minstrel's Fatherland?
'Tis where the spirit warmest glows,
Where laurels bloom for noblest brows,
Where warlike hearts the truest vows
Swear, lit by friendship's holy brand;
There was once my Fatherland.
What calls the minstrel, Fatherland?
That land, which weeps beneath the yoke
Its slaughter'd sons, and foeman's stroke: