THE GERMAN'S FAR FAMED LAND

Translated from Korner's (1791-1813), <! Mein Vaterland », by Sir ToUemache Sinclair.

Say, Where's the bard's dear native land? Where Goethe's genius all men know, Where Frederic's valour foiled each foe, Where noble hearts with ardour glow.

Where Tacitus the race thought grand, Oh there's my matchless fatherland !

How fares the bard's dear native land ? Alas ! her lofty spirit's broke.

She groans 'neath stern Napoleon's yoke Forged through vile treason's fatal stroke Once home of freedom by joy fanned.

Oh outraged sacred Germans' land !

Why wails the bard's dear native land?

That to the tyrant's harsh decree Her rulers bow the suppliant knee, Too few proclaim their country free And dare to join our patriot band ; I'd bleed, I'd die for my own land.

What needs the bard's dear native land? She needs her sons to hear her prayer To heed her call and not despair, Freedom she needs, a rescuer's care, A Herman's bold >ictorious hand :

I'd risk my soul for my loved land.

What wills the bard's dear native land ? To rout the French, th' aggressive race, Oppression from our bounds to chase

430 LARMES ET 60URIRES

With liberty her sons to grace,

She mourns them slain and laid in sand,

This wills our mighty Germans' land.

What hopes the bards dear native land ? She hopes her freedom to retake, That sons, now French, may Germans wake, She trusts that God her chains will break, She longs to see her dire foes banned Thou'lt free thyself, dear German land.

Kôrner was a volunteer and was killed in battle, fighting for his country ; he was called the German Tyrtoeus.