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Translated by J. S. Blackie
WHAT gleams from yon wood in the bright sunshine? | |
| Hark! nearer and nearer ’t is sounding; | |
| It hurries along, black line upon line, | |
| And the shrill-voiced horns in the wild chase join, | |
| The soul with dark horror confounding: | 5 |
| And if the black troopers’ name you ’d know, | |
| ’T is Lützow’s wild Jäger,—a-hunting they go! | |
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| From hill to hill, through the dark wood they hie, | |
| And warrior to warrior is calling; | |
| Behind the thick bushes in ambush they lie, | 10 |
| The rifle is heard, and the loud war-cry, | |
| In rows the Frank minions are falling: | |
| And if the black troopers’ name you ’d know, | |
| ’T is Lützow’s wild Jäger,—a-hunting they go! | |
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| Where the bright grapes glow, and the Rhine rolls wide, | 15 |
| He weened they would follow him never; | |
| But the pursuit came like the storm in its pride, | |
| With sinewy arms they parted the tide, | |
| And reached the far shore of the river; | |
| And if the dark swimmers’ name you ’d know. | 20 |
| ’T is Lützow’s wild Jäger,—a-hunting they go! | |
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| How roars in the valley the angry fight; | |
| Hark! how the keen swords are clashing! | |
| High-hearted Ritter are fighting the fight, | |
| The spark of Freedom awakens bright, | 25 |
| And in crimson flames it is flashing: | |
| And if the dark Ritters’ name you ’d know, | |
| ’T is Lützow’s wild Jäger,—a-hunting they go! | |
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| Who gurgle in death, mid the groans of the foe, | |
| No more the bright sunlight seeing? | 30 |
| The writhings of death on their face they show, | |
| But no terror the hearts of the freemen know. | |
| For the Franzmen are routed and fleeing; | |
| And if the dark heroes’ name you ’d know, | |
| ’T is Lützow’s wild Jäger,—a-hunting they go! | 35 |
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| The chase of the German, the chase of the free, | |
| In hounding the tyrant we strained it! | |
| Ye friends, that love us, look up with glee! | |
| The night is scattered, the dawn we see, | |
| Though we with our life’s-blood have gained it! | 40 |
| And from sire to son the tale shall go: | |
| ’T was Lützow’s wild Jäger that routed the foe! | |
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