er-land?
She hopes for holy Freedom's sake,
Hopes that her true sons will awake,
Hopes that just God will vengeance take,
And ne'er mistakes the Avenger's hand:
Thereon relies my Father-land.

MY HEART'S ON THE RHINE

[From the German of Wolfgang Muller.]

My heart's on the Rhine--in the old Father-land;
Where my cradle was rocked by a dear mother's hand,
My youth and my friends--they are there yet, I know,
And my love dreams of me with her cheeks all aglow;
O there where I reveled in song and in wine!
Wherever I wander my heart's on the Rhine.

I hail thee, thou broad-breasted, golden-green stream;
Ye cities and churches and castles that gleam;
Ye grain-fields of gold in the valley so blue;
Ye vineyards that glow in the sun-shimmered dew;
Ye forests and caverns and cliffs that were mine!
Wherever I wander my heart's on the Rhine.

I hail thee, O life of the soul-stirring song,
Of waltz and of wine, with a yearning so strong,
Hail, ye stout race of heroes, so brave and so true.
Ye blue-eyed, gay maidens, a greeting to you!
Your life and your aims and your efforts be mine;
Wherever I wander my heart's on the Rhine.

My heart's on the Rhine--in the old Father-land,
Where my cradle was rocked by a dear mother's hand;
My youth and my friends--they are there yet, I know,
And my love dreams of me with her cheeks all aglow:
Be thou ever the same to me, Land of the Vine!
Wherever I wander my heart's on the Rhine.

THE MINSTREL

[From the German of Goethe]

[_Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship, Book 2, Chap. 2._]

"What hear I at the gateway ringing?
What bard upon the drawbridge singing?
Go bid him to repeat his song
Here, in the hall amid the throng,"
The monarch cried;
The little page hied;
As back he sped,
The monarch said--
"Bring in the gray-haired minstrel."

"I greet you, noble lords and peers;
I greet you, lovely dames.
O heaven begemmed with golden spheres!
Who knows your noble names?
In hall of splendor so sublime,
Close ye, mine eyes--'tis not the time
To gaze in idle wonder."

The gray-haired minstrel closed his eyes;
He struck his wildest air;
Brave faces glowed like sunset skies;
Cast down their eyes the fair.
The king well pleased with the minstrel's song,
Sent the little page through the wondering throng
A chain of gold to bear him.

"O give not me the chain of gold;
Award it to thy braves,
Before whose faces fierce and bold
Quail foes when battle raves;
Or