Classic Poem

(JUNE, 1848)

Courage, my chieftain, and strike the blow,
Not alone for the lustre of fame;
For in thy camp is Austria,
Mere instruments we to her aim.

Through folly and through vanity
Our feuds have caused our fall;
Of those thou leadest to battle now,
One spirit lives in all.

No youth is there who would ever dare
To question thy behest:
He knows truth dwells not in his dream,
He knows thy word is best.

And thy body-guard not only awake,
But watchful to shelter thee right;
Little reck they of lives to lose,
When the battle drums beat at night.

Thy moving city's citizen,
This city to him is all;
He feels, should the flames but seize it once,
He perishes in the fall.

And again, thy gallant officers,
Their sharp swords glitter bright;
To discipline if need there be,
Obedience is peace in the fight.

Men God as Slave and Magyar made,
Words wake no strife among;
They follow, tho' German their marshal's cry,
For " Forwards" is also their tongue.

One common help in one common need,
Has founded both cities and states;
'Tis but in death man is ever alone,
'Tis life and endeavour that mates.

Were now an example thy mighty campaign,
Our hands we would joyfully reach!
In the union of all is victory,
The aim is the weal of each.