These are the weapons which a man Will buckle to his side; With these, life's battle he may scan Serene, in honest pride. These, in the thickest of the fight, He knows full well to save ; These, like a true and valiant knight, He carries to the grave. 7. G. SEIDL.-Männerwaffen. THE SHEPHERD'S SUNDAY. It is the Lord's own day. A lonely plain is stretching round, One morning chime has yet to sound . And now it dies away. A suppliant here I bend. O breathing silence, dread delight, What hosts are kneeling, hid from sight, With mine their vows to blend ! Far as the eye can stray, The heavens are clear, as though about Their golden gates to open out. It is the Lord's own day. UHLAND.-Schäfer's Sonntagslied. Has not each bloom been gathered Each fount begun to fail?' So long as rolls through ether 1 Wann wird einst ausgesungen So long as gazes upward Of humankind but one; So long as, after tempest, The rainbow spans the sky, And tells one stricken spirit Of peace and pardon nigh; So long as night is sowing The heaven with starry seed, And of the golden writing One man the signs can read ;1 So long as in the moonlight One heart a transport knows; So long as woods are wooing One pilgrim to repose; So lang die Nacht den Aether Der goldnen Schrift versteht. So long as spring is verdant, Or sparkle with delight; So long as, decked with cypress, So long as falls one tear-drop, One heart is left to break; So long, on earth a Power, Shall Poesy abide, And they whom she has chosen Shall triumph at her side; And through the old world singing, In ages beyond ken, The last of bards to leave it Shall be the last of men. |