Gundag jü Holsten op dütsche Eer! Gundag jü Friesen ant dütsche Meer! To leben un starben vær dütsche Ehr So wannert un treckt dat Heer. German Honor and German Earth. _Spring_, 1848. There came soldiers across the Elbe, Hurrah, hurrah, to the North! They came as thick as wave on wave, And like a field full of corn. Good day, soldiers! whence do you come? From all the hills on the right and left, From German lands to the German sea,— Thus wanders and marches the host. What lies so still as it were the sea? What shines so yellow as gold? The splendid fields of the Marshes they are, The pride of the Holsten race. Good day, ye Holsten on German soil! Good day, ye Friesians, on the German sea To live and to die for German honor,— Thus wanders and marches the host. II. _Sommer_, 1851. Dat treckt so trurig æwer de Elf, In Tritt un Schritt so swar— De Swalw de wannert, de Hatbar treckt— Se kamt wedder to tokum Jahr. Ade, ade, du dütsches Heer! “Ade, ade, du Holsten meer! Ade op Hoffen un Wiederkehr!” Wi truert alleen ant Meer. De Storch kumt wedder, de Swalw de singt So fröhlich as all tovær— Wann kumt de dütsche Adler un bringt Di wedder, du dütsche Ehr? Wak op du Floth, wak op du Meer! Wak op du Dunner, un week de Eer! Wi sitt op Hæpen un Wedderkehr— Wi truert alleen ant Meer. _Summer_, 1851. They march so sad across the Elbe, So heavy, step by step,— The swallow wanders, the stork departs,— They come back in the year to come. Adieu, adieu, thou German host! “Adieu, adieu, thou Holsten sea! Adieu, in hope, and to meet again!” We mourn alone by the sea. The stork comes back, the swallow sings As blithe as ever before,— When will the German eagle return, And bring thee back, thou German honor! Wake up, thou flood! wake up, thou sea! Wake up, thou thunder, and rouse the land! We are sitting in hope to meet again,— We mourn alone by the sea. III. _Winter_, 1863. Dar kumt en Brusen as Værjahswind, Dat dræhnt as wær dat de Floth,— Will’t Fröhjahr kamen to Wihnachtstid? Hölpt Gott uns sülb’n inne Noth? Vun alle Bargen de Krüz un Quer Dar is dat wedder dat dütsche Heer! Dat gelt op Nu oder Nimmermehr! So rett se, de dütsche Ehr! Wi hört den Adler, he kumt, he kumt! Noch eenmal hæpt wi un harrt! Is’t Friheit endlich, de he uns bringt? ls’t Wahrheit, wat der ut ward? Sunst hölp uns Himmel, nu geit’t ni mehr! Hölp du, un bring uns den Herzog her! Denn wüllt wi starben vær dütsche Ehr! Denn begravt uns in dütsche Eer! 30 _December_, 1863. _Winter_, 1863. There comes a blast like winter storm; It roars as it were the flood. Is the spring coming at Christmas-tide? Does God himself help us in our need? From all the hills on the right and left, There again comes the German host! It is to be now or never! O, save the German honor! We hear the eagle, he comes, he comes! Once more we hope and wait! Is it freedom at last he brings to us? Is it truth what comes from thence?