Let wave, let wave, whatever can-- Standard and banner wave! Here will we purpose, man for man, To grace a hero's grave. Advance, ye brave ranks, hardily-- Your banners wave on high; We'll gain us freedom's victory, Or freedom's death we'll die! [Illustration: ERNST MORITZ ARNDT Julius Röting] * * * * * UNION SONG[10] (1814) This blessed hour we are united, Of German men a mighty choir, And from the lips of each, delighted, Our praying souls to heaven aspire; With high and sacred awe abounding We join in solemn thoughts today, And so our hearts should be resounding In clear harmonic song and play. To whom shall foremost thanks be given? To God, the great, so long concealed, Who, when the cloud of shame was riven, Himself in flames to us revealed, Who, stubborn foes with lightning felling, Restored to us our strength of yore, Who, on the stars in power dwelling, Reigns ever and forevermore. Who should our second wish be hearing? The majesty of Fatherland-- Destroyed be those who still are sneering! Hail them who with it fall and stand! By virtue winning admiration, Beloved for honesty and might, Long live through centuries our nation As strong in honor and in might! The third is German manhood's treasure-- Ring out it shall, with clearness mete! For Freedom is the German pleasure, And Germans step to Freedom's beat. Be life and death by her inspirèd-- Of German hearts, oh, longing bright! And death for Freedom's sake desirèd Is German honor and delight. The fourth--for noble consecration Now lift on high both heart and hand! Old loyalty within our nation And German faith forever stand!-- These virtues shall, our weal assuring, Remain our union's shield and stay; Our manly word will be enduring Until the world shall pass away. Now let the final chord be ringing In jubilee--stand not apart! Let sound our mighty, joyful singing From lip to lip, from heart to heart! The weal from which no devils bar us, The word that doth our league infold-- The bliss which tyrants cannot mar us We must believe in, we must hold! _THEODOR KÖRNER_ * * * * * MEN AND KNAVES[11] (1813) The storm is out; the land is roused; Where is the coward who sits well-housed? Fie, on thee, boy, disguised in curls, Behind the stove, 'mong gluttons and girls! A graceless, worthless wight thou must be; No German maid desires thee, No German song inspires thee, No German Rhine-wine fires thee. Forth in the van, Man by man, Swing the battle-sword who can! When we stand watching, the livelong night, Through piping storms, till morning light, Thou to thy downy bed canst creep, And there in dreams of rapture sleep. _Chorus_.