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The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 05
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God, I repose in thee;
When the thunders of death my soul are greeting,
When the gashed veins bleed, and the life is fleeting,
In thee, my God, I repose in thee.
Father, I call on thee.
MAXIMILIAN GOTTFRIED VON SCHENKENDORF
* * * * *
THE MOTHER TONGUE[14 - Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] (1814)
Mother tongue, oh, tongue most dear,
Sweet and gladsome to mine ear!
Word that first I heard, endearing
Word of love, first timid sound
That I stammered—still I'm hearing
Thee within my soul profound.
Oh, my heart will ever grieve
When my Fatherland I leave,
For in foreign tongues repeating
Words of strangers, I lose cheer.
Oh, they seem not like a greeting,
And I'll never hold them dear.
Speech so wonderful to hear—
How thou ringest pure and clear!
Though thy beauty hath enthralled me,
Still I'll deepen my delight,
Awed, as if my fathers called me
From the grave's eternal night.
Ring on ever, tongue of old,
Tongue of lovers, heroes bold!
Rise, old song, though lost for ages,
From thy secret tomb, and go
Live again in sacred pages,
Set all hearts once more aglow.
Breath of God is everywhere,
Custom sacred here as there.
Yet when I give thanks, am praying,
A beloved heart would seek,
When my highest thoughts I'm saying—
Then my mother tongue I speak.
* * * * *
SPRING GREETING TO THE FATHERLAND[15 - Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] (1814)
Fatherland, thy pleasures greet me
After bondage, war's distress!
I must steep my soul completely
Here in all thy gorgeousness.
Where the oak-trees murmur mildly
With their crowns to heaven raised,
Mighty streams are roaring wildly—
There the German land be praised.
From the Rhinefall, all delighted,
I have walked, from Danube's spring;
Mildly, in my soul benighted
Love-stars rose, illumining;
Now I would descend, and brightly
Radiate a joyous shine
Into Neckar's valleys sprightly,
O'er the blue and silver Main.
Onward fly, my message, bringing
Freedom's greeting evermore,
Far away thou shalt be ringing
By my home on Memel's shore.
Where the German tongue is spoken,
Hearts have fought to make her free—
Fought right gladly—there unbroken
Stays our sacred Germany.
All with sunlight seems a-blazing,
All things seem adorned with green—
Pastures where the herds are grazing,
Hills where ripening grapes are seen.
Such a spring time has not graced thee,
Fatherland, for thousand years;
Glory of thy fathers faced thee
Once in dreams, and now appears.
Once more weapons must be wielded;
Go, a spirit-fray begin,
Till the latest foe has yielded—
He who threatens you within.
Passions vile ye should be blighting,
Hate, suspicion, envy, greed—
Then take, after heavy fighting,
German hearts, the rest ye need.
Then shall all men be possessing
Honor, humbleness, and might,
And thus only can the blessing
Sent our monarch shine with right.
When the thunders of death my soul are greeting,
When the gashed veins bleed, and the life is fleeting,
In thee, my God, I repose in thee.
Father, I call on thee.
MAXIMILIAN GOTTFRIED VON SCHENKENDORF
* * * * *
THE MOTHER TONGUE[14 - Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] (1814)
Mother tongue, oh, tongue most dear,
Sweet and gladsome to mine ear!
Word that first I heard, endearing
Word of love, first timid sound
That I stammered—still I'm hearing
Thee within my soul profound.
Oh, my heart will ever grieve
When my Fatherland I leave,
For in foreign tongues repeating
Words of strangers, I lose cheer.
Oh, they seem not like a greeting,
And I'll never hold them dear.
Speech so wonderful to hear—
How thou ringest pure and clear!
Though thy beauty hath enthralled me,
Still I'll deepen my delight,
Awed, as if my fathers called me
From the grave's eternal night.
Ring on ever, tongue of old,
Tongue of lovers, heroes bold!
Rise, old song, though lost for ages,
From thy secret tomb, and go
Live again in sacred pages,
Set all hearts once more aglow.
Breath of God is everywhere,
Custom sacred here as there.
Yet when I give thanks, am praying,
A beloved heart would seek,
When my highest thoughts I'm saying—
Then my mother tongue I speak.
* * * * *
SPRING GREETING TO THE FATHERLAND[15 - Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] (1814)
Fatherland, thy pleasures greet me
After bondage, war's distress!
I must steep my soul completely
Here in all thy gorgeousness.
Where the oak-trees murmur mildly
With their crowns to heaven raised,
Mighty streams are roaring wildly—
There the German land be praised.
From the Rhinefall, all delighted,
I have walked, from Danube's spring;
Mildly, in my soul benighted
Love-stars rose, illumining;
Now I would descend, and brightly
Radiate a joyous shine
Into Neckar's valleys sprightly,
O'er the blue and silver Main.
Onward fly, my message, bringing
Freedom's greeting evermore,
Far away thou shalt be ringing
By my home on Memel's shore.
Where the German tongue is spoken,
Hearts have fought to make her free—
Fought right gladly—there unbroken
Stays our sacred Germany.
All with sunlight seems a-blazing,
All things seem adorned with green—
Pastures where the herds are grazing,
Hills where ripening grapes are seen.
Such a spring time has not graced thee,
Fatherland, for thousand years;
Glory of thy fathers faced thee
Once in dreams, and now appears.
Once more weapons must be wielded;
Go, a spirit-fray begin,
Till the latest foe has yielded—
He who threatens you within.
Passions vile ye should be blighting,
Hate, suspicion, envy, greed—
Then take, after heavy fighting,
German hearts, the rest ye need.
Then shall all men be possessing
Honor, humbleness, and might,
And thus only can the blessing
Sent our monarch shine with right.
