English poem
12. George Herwegh.[16]
by Heinrich Heine (1797–1856)
When Germany first drank her fill, You then were her obedient vassal, Believing in each pipe-bowl still, And in its black-red-golden tassel.
But when the fond delirium ceased, Good friend, how great your consternation! The public seem’d a very beast, After its sweet intoxication!
Pelted by vile abusive swarms With rotten apples, in disorder, Under an escort of gendarmes You reach’d at length the German border.
There you stood still. A tear you wiped Away, the well-known posts on spying Which like the zebra’s back are striped, With heavy heart as follows sighing:--
“Aranjuez, in lightsome mood “Once stay’d I in thy halls so splendid, “When I before King Philip stood, “By all his proud grandees attended.
“He gave me an approving smile “When I the Marquis Posa acted; “My prose he could not relish, while “My verses his applause attracted.”
13. THE TENDENCY.
German bard! extol our glorious German freedom, that thy lay May possess our souls, and fire us, And to mighty deeds inspire us, Like the Marseillaise notorious.
Be no more, like Werther, tender, Who for Lotte sigh’d all day; Thou shouldst tell the people proudly What the bells proclaim so loudly,-- Speak of dirks, swords, no surrender.
Gentle flutes no more resemble, Be not so idyllic, pray! Fire the mortars, beat to quarters, Crash, kill, thunder, make them tremble.
Crash, kill, thunder like a devil Till the last foe flies away; To this cause devote thy singing, Thy poetic efforts bringing To the common public’s level.
14. THE CHILD.
The good their gifts in dream enjoy, How did it fare with thee? Scarce feeling it, you’ve got a boy, Poor virgin Germany!
This boy an urchin frolicsome Ere long shall we behold; A first-rate archer he’ll become, As Cupid was of old.
He’ll pierce the soaring eagle through; And, proudly though he fly, The double-headed eagle too Struck by his bolt, shall die.
But that blind heathen God of love Will he resemble not In wearing neither clothes nor glove, Nor be a sans-culotte.
The seasons in our land combine With morals and police To make both old and young incline To wear their clothes in peace.
15. THE PROMISE.
You no more shall barefoot crawl so Through the dirt, poor German freedom! Stockings (as you find you need ’em) You shall have, and stout boots also.
As respects your head, upon it To protect your ears from freezin’ In the chilly winter-season You shall have a nice warm bonnet.
You shall have, too, savoury messes-- Grand the future that’s before you! Let no Satyr, I implore you, Lure you onward to excesses!
Do not haste on fast and faster! Render, as becomes inferiors, Due respect to your superiors And the worthy burgomaster.
16. THE CHANGELING.
A child with monstrous pumpkin head, Grey pigtail, and moustache light red, With lanky arms and yet stupendous, No bowels, yet with maw tremendous,-- A changeling which a Corporal Into our cradle had let fall On stealing from it our own baby-- This monster, falsehood’s child, (or may be ’Twas in reality the son Of his own favourite dog alone)-- What need to say how much we spurn it? For heaven’s sake, drown it or else burn it!