How proudly they stand, with their lion-like hearts, In the noble science of fencing! Their quarts and their tierces, so honestly meant, With vigorous arm dispensing. Right well they fight, and right well they drink; When they give thee their hand so gentle To strike up a friendship, they needs must weep, Like oaks turn’d sentimental. May heaven watch over thee, worthy race, On thy seed shower down benefactions, Preserve thee from war and empty renown, From heroes and heroes’ actions! May it evermore grant to thy excellent sons An easy examination, And give thy daughters marriages good,-- So Amen to my invocation! CAPUT XI. Behold the wood of Teutoburg, Described in Tacitus’ pages; Behold the classical marsh, wherein Stuck Varus, in past ages. Here vanquish’d him the Cheruscian prince, The noble giant, named Hermann;[50] ’Twas in this mire that triumph’d first Our nationality German. Had Hermann with his light-hair’d hordes Not triumph’d here over the foeman, Then German freedom had come to an end, We had each been turn’d to a Roman! Nought but Roman language and manners had now Our native country ruled over, In Munich lived Vestals, the Swabians e’en As Quirites have flourish’d in clover! An harúspex had Hengstenberg surely been, And groped about in the bowels Of oxen; Neander[51] an Augur, and based On flights of birds his avowals. Birch-Pfeifer[52] had tippled her turpentine, Like the Roman ladies admired. (’Tis said that they, by its frequent use, A pleasing odour acquired). Friend Raumer[53] had been no German scamp, But a regular Roman Scampatius, And Freiligrath written without using rhyme, Like worthy Flaccus Horatius. The clumsy beggar, Father Jahn,[54] Had then been call’d Clumsianus; Me Hercule! Massmann[55] would Latin have talk’d, As Marcus Tullius Massmanus! The friends of truth, instead of with curs In the papers, would in the arena Have had to wage a mortal fight With the lion, jackal, hyena. One single Nero we now should have had, ’Stead of three dozen pieces of knavery; Our veins should we have open’d, and so Defied the bailiffs of slavery. Thank heaven! The Romans were driven away, A glorious triumph was Hermann’s; Both Varus and all his legions succumb’d, And we remain’d still Germans! We Germans remain, and German we speak, As we before times have spoken; An ass is an ass, not asinus, The Swabian line is unbroken. Friend Raumer remain’d a German scamp In our northern German climate; And Freiligrath no Horace became, But in verse is accustom’d to rhyme it.