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Death springs to life:

Though brief and sad thy story,
Thy years all spent in care and gloom,
Look up, look up;
Eternity and glory
Dawn through the portals of the tomb.


How blest the Pilgrim, who in trouble
Can lean upon a bosom-friend;
Strength, courage, hope with him redouble,
When foes assail, or griefs impend; :
Care flees before his footsteps, straying,
At daybreak, o'er the purple heath ;
He plucks the wild flowers round him playing,
And binds their beauty in a wreath.

More dear to him the fields and mountains,
When with his friend abroad he roves,
Rests in the shade near sunny fountains,
Or talks by moonlight through the groves :

For him the vine expands its clusters,
Spring wakes for him her woodland quire;
Yea, when the storm of winter blusters,
'Tis summer round his evening fire.

In good old age serenely dying,
When all he loved forsakes his view,
Sweet is affection's voice replying,
“ I follow soon,” to his “ Adieu!”
Even then, though earthly ties are riven,
The spirit's union will not end;
— Happy the man, whom heaven hath given,
In life and death, a faithful friend.


Heaven speed the righteous sword,
And freedom be the word !
Come, brethren, hand in hand,
Fight for your father-land.

Germania from afar
Invokes her sons to war ;
Awake, put forth your powers,
And victory must be ours.

* The simple and sublime original of these stanzas, with the fine air by Himmel, became the national song of Germany, and was sung by the soldiers especially, during the latter campaigns of the war, when Buonaparte was twice dethroned, and Europe finally delivered from French predominance.

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.

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