He who for freedom fights and falls a famous name shall keep So long as over pass and plain, o'er rock and rampart steep, The ghosts of the unconquered slain their phantom ranks array, And rush around us in the night, and in the blaze of day, In storm that breaks the towering pine, and in the air that waves With gentle motion, to and fro, the grass upon their graves. The spirit of her freemen old, on Hellas' hallowed shore, The very cradles of her race for ever hovers o'er; Already with mysterious dreams the tender babe in spires, And in his sleep devotes the child to emulate his sires. The youth it calls, and leads him forth, and with a mighty spell Allures his footstep to the spot where once a freeman fell; There, sends a shudder to his heart, a thrill through every vein, Nor knows he whether it be joy, or whether it be pain. Descend, ye sacred warrior-band, abroad our banners fling, And speed the pulses of our hearts, our eager onset wing; We sally forth to wrest again our freedom, sword in hand; We sally forth to fight and die for God and Fatherland! Ye come-our ranks ye rush around-hark, our triumphant shout In mystic echoes, far and wide, by you is lengthened out! land! He who for freedom fights and falls a famous name shall keep So long as through the firmament the breezes freely sweep, So long as in the forest, free, the leaves their music make, So long as to the ocean, free, the rills their courses take, So long as through the stormy cloud, at will, the eagles flee, So long as in the liberal air one breast is breathing, free. WILHELM MÜLLER.-Lied vor der Schlacht. |