But bloom thou--and, as thus I go,
Old Battle-house, still "Live thou, hoch!"
Yet many a victor-garland be,
Thou house of honour, won in thee!
Then come I--ah! to Liebchen's door,--
Look out, dear girl, look out once more!
Look out with thy sweet eyes so clear,
And with thy dark and clustering hair.
And shouldst thou e'en have me forgot,
A like reward I wish thee not.