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FREEDOM AND RIGHT

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Oh, think not she sleepeth with those who have perish’d

In dungeons unnumbered by tyranny’s sword;

In the hearts of the free shall her dear name be cherish’d.

Though their lips are forbidden to utter “the Word.”

Yes!  Though, lone exiles by mountain and valley,

They wander uncheer’d by lost liberty’s light,

There’s a pulse in the heart of the Freeman to rally,

While Freedom still liveth, and with her the Right.

For Freedom and Right!

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Till victory’s sun-burst shall flash o’er our standard,

No check must impede us, no danger affright,

But with courage redoubled, the first in the vanward,

Our war-cry will thunder, For Freedom!  For Right!

These twin ones, the holy, have come, born of heaven,

To earth by a path track’d in colours of light;

To the Right let the honours of Freedom be given,

To the Free be the glories ascribed of the Right.

Hail!  The Freedom!  The Right!

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Let this too inspire us, they never were flying

From fight unto fight more exulting than now;

And the souls which have longest in bondage been lying,

Are stirr’d with the rapture of Liberty’s glow.

Oh!  Let but one ray of that meteor of wonder

Burst in through the darkness of slavery’s night,

And like magic the bonds of the serf are asunder,

And the chains of the Negro are rent at the sight.

The Freedom!  The Right!

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Yes!  Your banner of crimson floats broad in the vanward,

The nations have gather’d to see it unfurl’d;

For the motto emblazon’d on liberty’s standard,

Is the death of oppression – the Right rules the world;

What a halo of glory, O God!  They shine clear in.

Like a garland hung over that banner of might;

There is Germany’s oak, and the shamrock of Erin,

And the olive of Greece in that garland of light.

The Freedom!  The Right!

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Though many a heart that now throbs shall be lying

In peace, its last slumber and rest will be light;

And over their graves shall that standard, far flying,

Tell how they fought for “The Freedom!  The Right!”

To the memory, then, of the brave, the true-hearted,

Fill up!  They have battled ‘gainst tyranny’s might,

Nor ceased from the struggle till life had departed;

Hurra!  Right forever!  And Freedom through Right!

The Freedom!  The Right!

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Auf der Heide saust der Wind

Set by Johannes Brahms (1833-1897) , “Willst du, daß ich geh’?”, op. 71 (Fünf Gesänge) no. 4 (1877). Translation copyright © by Emily Ezust, from The Lied & Art Song Texts Page.

On the heath blows the wind -

Sweet child, sweet child -

do you wish me, despite the storm and horror,

to go out into the night -

do you wish me to go?

On the heath at the top of the mountain

Piles the snow, piles the snow;

It sweeps the street, the gorge and pool alike

with white wings.

Do you wish me to go?

Hark! the sound of the sea

is wild and woeful, wild and woeful!

By the willows sits an evil sprite

and my path goes past that place -

Do you wish me to go?

For here in your arms,

how cosy and warm, cosy and warm;

Ah, how often have I thought:

if only I could have just one night with you...

Do you wish me to go?
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By Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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THE TWO GRENADIERS

From the Painting by P. Grotjohann

To France were traveling two grenadiers,

From prison in Russia returning,

And when they came to the German frontiers,

They hung down their heads in mourning.

There came the heart-breaking news to their ears

That France was by fortune forsaken;

Scattered and slain were her brave grenadiers,

And Napoleon, Napoleon was taken.

Then wept together those two grenadiers

O'er their country's departed glory;

"Woe's me," cried one, in the midst of his tears,

"My old wound--how it burns at the story!"

The other said: "The end has come,

What avails any longer living

Yet have I a wife and child at home,

For an absent father grieving.

"Who cares for wife? Who cares for child?

Dearer thoughts in my bosom awaken;

Go beg, wife and child, when with hunger wild,

For Napoleon, Napoleon is taken!

"Oh, grant me, brother, my only prayer,

When death my eyes is closing:

Take me to France, and bury me there;

In France be my ashes reposing.

"This cross of the Legion of Honor bright,

Let it lie near my heart, upon me;

Give me my musket in my hand,

And gird my sabre on me.

"So will I lie, and arise no more,

My watch like a sentinel keeping,

Till I hear the cannon's thundering roar,

And the squadrons above me sweeping.

"Then the Emperor comes! and his banners wave,

With their eagles o'er him bending,

And I will come forth, all in arms, from my grave,

Napoleon, Napoleon attending!"

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