And reached his tower, and barred with care He laid him down and closed his eyes, On his pillow, from whence the screaming came. He listened and looked, it was only the cat; For they have swum over the river so deep, Down on his knees the bishop fell, And faster and faster his beads did he tell, The saw of their teeth without he could hear. And in at the windows, and in at the door, From the right and the left, from behind and before, They have whetted their teeth against the stones, Bingen on the Rhine (Bingen) A SOLDIER of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears; But a comrade stood beside him, while his lifeblood ebbed away, And bent, with pitying glances, to hear what he might say. The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand, And he said, "I nevermore shall see my own, my native land: Take a message, and a token to some distant friends of mine; For I was born at Bingen, Rhine. at Bingen on the "Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around, To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground, That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done Full many a corse lay ghastly pale beneath the setting sun; And mid the dead and dying were some grown old in wars, The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many scars; And some were young, and suddenly beheld life's morn decline, And one had come from Bingen, the Rhine. fair Bingen on "Tell my mother that her other son shall comfort her old age; For I was still a truant bird, that thought his home a cage. For my father was a soldier, and even as a child My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild; And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard, I let them take whate'er they would, — but kept my father's sword! And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shine, On the cottage wall at Bingen, calm Bingen on the Rhine. "Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head, When the troops come marching home again, with glad and gallant tread, But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye, For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die; And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name, To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame, And to hang the old sword in its place (my father's sword and mine), For the honor of old Bingen, dear Bingen on the Rhine. "There's another, not a sister; in the happy days gone by You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye, Too innocent for coquetry, too fond for idle scorning, O friend! I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning! Tell her the last night of my life (for ere the moon be risen My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison), I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine On the vine-clad hills of Bingen, sweet Bingen on the Rhine. "I saw the blue Rhine sweep along, — I heard, or seemed to hear, The German songs we used to sing in chorus sweet and clear; And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill, The echoing chorus sounded through the evening calm and still; And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed, with friendly talk, Down many a path beloved of yore, and wellremembered walk! And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine,But we meet no more at Bingen, — loved Bingen on the Rhine." His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse, his grasp was childish weak, Rheinsage (Rüdesheim) Am Rhein, am grünen Rheine, Da ist so mild die Nacht, Die Rebenhügel liegen In goldner Mondenpracht. Und an den Hügeln wandelt Mit Schwert und Purpurmantel, Die Krone von Golde schwer. |