Classic Poem

'Twas in no Augustan age,
'Neath no royal patronage,
That the German art was born,
Not on glory was it fed,
Nor its flower raised its head
Princely triumphs to adorn.

Frederick on his mighty throne,
Germany's most noble son,
Left it lone and unrevered.
Germans justly may proclaim
Theirs the credit, theirs the fame.
German glory to have reared.

Thus it is that German song
Rolls in boiling waves along,
Bursting from the inmost heart;
Surges to triumphant heights,
And in native grandeur slights
The despotic rules of art.