Eagle, Tyrolean eagle,
Why are thy plumes so red?
“From suns that fiercely shine,
From draughts of ruddy wine,
From blood my foes have shed,—
From these am I so red.”
(From the German of Senn.)
In Mantua in fetters
The faithful Hofer lay,
Condemned by hostile soldiers
To die at break of day;
Now bled his comrades’ hearts in vain;
All Germany felt shame and pain,
As did his land, Tyrol.
When through his dungeon grating
In Mantua’s fortress grim
He saw his loyal comrades
Stretch out their hands to him,
He cried: “God give to you his aid,
And to the German realm betrayed,
And to the land Tyrol!”
With step serene and steadfast,
His hands behind him chained,
Went forth the valiant Hofer
To death which he disdained,—
That death, which by his valor foiled
Had oft from Iselberg recoiled,
In his loved land, Tyrol.
The noisy drum-beat slackened,
And silenced was its roar
When Andreas the dauntless,
Stepped through the prison door;
The “Sandwirt”, fettered still, yet free,
Stood on the wall with unbent knee,—
The hero of Tyrol.
When told to kneel, he answered:
“That will I never do;
I’ll die, as I am standing,
Die, as I fought with you;
Here I resist your last advance,
Long live my well-loved Kaiser Franz,
And with him his Tyrol!”
The soldier takes the kerchief
Which Hofer will not wear;
Once more the hero murmurs
To God a farewell prayer;
Then cries: “Take aim! Hit well this spot!
Now fire! ... How badly you have shot!
Adieu, my land Tyrol”!
(From the German.)
A river flowed through a desert land
On its way to find the sea,
And saw naught else than glaring sand
And scarcely a shady tree.
The distant stars looked down by night,
And the burning sun by day,
On the crystal stream, so pure and bright;
But the sea was far away.
Sometimes at night the little stream
Would sigh for the sea’s embrace,
And oft would see, as in a dream,
The longed-for ocean’s face.
At last one day it felt a thrill
It had never known before,
As it reached the brow of a lofty hill,
And saw the wave-lapped shore.
And it flung itself with a mighty leap
From the crest of the hill above,
Till its waters mingled with the deep;—
And the name of the sea was Love.
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