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Where, therefore, lies the German's land ?
Baptise that great, that ancient land !
'Tis surely Austria, proud and bold,
In wealth unmatched, in glory old ?
Oh! none shall write her name on sand:
But she is not the German's land !

Say then, where lies the German's land?
Baptise that great, that ancient land !
Is’t Alsace? Or Lorraine—that gem
Wrenched from the imperial diadem
By wiles which princely treachery planned ?
No; these are not the German's land !

Where, therefore, lies the German's land?
Name now at last that mighty land !
Where'er resounds the German tongue-
Where German hymns to God are sung-
There, gallant brother, take thy stand I
That is the German's fatherland !

That is his land, the land of lands,
Where vows bind less than clasped hands,
Where valour lights the flashing eye,
Where love and truth in deep hearts lie,
And zeal enkindles freedom's brand,
That is the German's fatherland!

That is the German's fatherland!
Great God! look down and bless that land!
And give her noble children souls
To cherish while existence rolls,
And love with heart, and aid with hand,

Their universal fatherland!
-ARNDI.

Dublin Magazine.

HONESTY.

A HYMN FOR CHILDREN.

With honest heart go on your way,

Down to your burial sod,
And never for a moment stray

Beyond the path of God.

Then like a happy pilgrim here,

O’er pleasant meadows going,
You'll reach the bank without a fear,

And everything along your way

In colours bright shall shine;
The water from the jug of clay

Shall taste like costly wine!
Then cherish faith and honesty

Down to your burial clod,
And never for a moment stray

Beyond the path of God.
Your sons and grandsons to your tomb

Shall come, their tears to shed;
And from their tears sweet flowers shall bloom
Above your sleeping head !

GOSTICK.

-HOLTY.

THE FOUNTAIN.
6 What one can never do for me again,
That I'll not do for him. To none I owe
What he ne'er did for me, and ne'er can do."
And thus will you live justly, well, and calmly?
No; not even so; say nought of useful, noble,
Divine and human life (the two are one).
Then first of all, grant not your child a grave;
For sure your child can never bury you!
Follow no friend to his last resting-place;
For he can never rise to follow you !
Give no poor wanderer a crust of bread,
Lest he should never meet you and return it!
Clothe not the poor till he can so clothe you!
And bind not up your house-dog's broken limb;
He'll ne'er return that self-same benefit-
The hound can nly bark and keep your door.
The beggar only prays, “ Reward you God !”
But I say: Whatsoever thing you do,
None other can do that for you again.
Either that same thing you may never need,
Or, if you need it, it may not be found.
Humanity will always be around you ;
Hear then my counsel, hear the word divine-
To every man give that which most he needs ;
Do that which he can never do for you!
Thus live you like the spring that gives you water,
And like the grape that sheds for you its blood,
And like the rose that perfume sheds for you,
And like the bread that satisfies your need,
And like the clouds that pour their rains for you,
And like the sun that shines so gladly for you,
And like the earth that bears you on her bosom,
And like the dead who left their care for you!

And now,

You cannot teach the dead, nor bless the heavens,
Nor bear the earth, nor give the sun more glory,
Nor clouds more rain; you cannot nourish bread,
Nor give the rose its fragrance, nor the vine
Its sap, nor can you feed the water-springs.
what were you, if none did for

you
What you ne'er did and ne'er can do for him?
For what can you return to God for all ?
Your very spirit means His spirit-given-
Then like that spirit, freely, purely, truly,
Divinely, do for every one your best.
Thus only can you live in righteousness,
In heavenly peace, joyful, and free from care;
Thus will you live even as His spirit lives;
Thus will you in His very kingdom dwell.

Do all for men that they do not for you! - SCHEFER.

Anon.

HONOUR TO WOMEN.

Honour to women! entwining and braiding,
Life's garland with roses for ever unfading,

In the veil of the graces all modestly kneeling,
Love's band with sweet spells have they wreathed, have they

blessed.
And tending with hands ever pure, have cares

ressed,
The flame of each holy, each beautiful feeling.
Ever truth's bright bounds outranges

Man, and his wild spirit strives,
Ever with each thought that changes

As the storm of passion drives-
With heart appeased, contented, never

Grasps he at the future's gleam,
Beyond the stars pursuing ever

The restless phantom of his dream.
But the glances of women, enchantingly glowing,
Their light woos the fugitive back, ever throwing

A link round the present, that binds like a spell ;
In the meek cottage home of the mother presiding,
All graces, all gentleness, round them abiding,
As nature's true daughters, how sweetly they dwell.
Man is ever warring, rushing

Onward through life's stormy way,
Wild his fervour, fierce and crushing,

Knows he neither rest nor stay,
Creating, slaying--day by day

Urged' by passion's fury brood,
A hydra band, whose heads, for aye

Fall, to be for aye renewed.

But women, to sweet silent praises resigning
Such hopes as affection is ever enshrining,

Pluck the moment's brief flowers as they wander along,
More free in their limited

range,

richer ever
Than man, proudly soaring with fruitless endeavour
Through the infinite circles of science and song.
Strong, and proud, and self commending,

Man's cold heart doth never move
To a gentler spirit bending,

To the godlike power of love;
Knows not soul-exchange so tender,

Tears, by others' tears confessed,
Life's dark combats steel, and render

Harder his obdurate breast !
Oh, wakened like harp, and as gently, resembling.
Its murmuring chords to the night-breezes trembling,

Breathes woman's fond soul, and as feelingly too:
Touched lightly, touched deeply, oh ever she borrows
Grief itself from the image of grief, and her sorrows
Ever gem her soft eyes with Heaven's holiest dew.
Man, of power despotic lord,
In
power

doth insolently trust;
Scythia argues with the sword,

Persia, crouching, bites the dust.
In their fury-fights engaging,

Combat spoilers wild and dread,
Strife, and war, and havoc raging

Where the charities have fled.
But gently intreating, and sweetly beguiling,
Woman reigns while the graces around her are smiling,

Calming down the fierce discord of hatred and pride;
Teaching all whom the strife of wild passions would sever,
To unite in one bond, and with her, and for ever,
All hopes, each emotion, they else had denied.

Taits Magazine.

-SCHILLER

THE TREASURE-SEEKER.

Sick at heart, and lank in purse,

I dragged my snake-like days along;
Want is man's reproach and curse,

And gold is bliss—thus ran my song:
So, to end my woes and pains,

À treasure-crock I went to roll up;
Struck the sharp steel in my veins,

And signed the bond that gave my soul up.

Magic circles then I drew,

And flaming hieroglyphics there;
Herbs and bones together threw,

And spake the incantation prayer.
Storms were blackening midnight's face,

But I fulfilled each godless duty;
Standing by the marked-out place,

I sank my spade to dig the booty.
Twelve o'clock! LO! from afar,

Advancing swiftly through the darkling
Midnight mist, I marked a star

Most luminously rare and sparkling.
Wonder overpowered my soul :

Then brightlier flashed the heavenly flood,
And, in's hand a glittering bowl,

A beauteous boy before me stood.
Mildly gleamed his eyes of light;
With richest wreaths his brows were cr

crowned;
Haloed by the liquid bright,

He stepped within the circle's bound.
Friendlily he bade me taste;

And then I thought, This child so fair,
Light-begirt and mildness-graced,

Hath surely scarce a demon's air!
“ Drink at Life's upgushing wells !

Thus dost thou learn the manlier science ;
Scorn those paltry spectre-spells,

And bid thy nightmare-cares defiance.
Spend no more thy spirits here;

But, noonday tasks and evening pleasures,
Week-days' labour, Sunday's cheer-

Be these thy charm to conjure treasures !”

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