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And reached his tower, and barred with care
All the windows, doors, and loop-holes there.

He laid him down and closed his eyes,
But soon a scream made him arise;
He started and saw two eyes of flame

On his pillow, from whence the screaming came.

He listened and looked, it was only the cat;
But the bishop he grew more fearful for that,
For she sate screaming, mad with fear,
At the army of rats that were drawing near.

For they have swum over the river so deep,
And they have climbed the shores so steep,
And now by thousands up they crawl
To the holes and windows in the wall.

Down on his knees the bishop fell,

And faster and faster his beads did he tell,
As louder and louder, drawing near,

The saw of their teeth without he could hear.

And in at the windows, and in at the door,
And through the walls by thousands they pour;
And down from the ceiling and up through the
floor,

From the right and the left, from behind and before,
From within and without, from above and below, -
And all at once to the bishop they go.

They have whetted their teeth against the stones,
And now they pick the bishop's bones;
They gnawed the flesh from every limb,
For they were sent to do judgment to him.
Robert Southey.

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.

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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.

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"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."

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His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse, his grasp was childish weak,

Rheinsage

(Rüdesheim)

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Am Rhein, am grünen Rheine,

Da ist so mild die Nacht,

Die Rebenhügel liegen

In goldner Mondenpracht.

Und an den Hügeln wandelt
Ein hoher Schatten her

Mit Schwert und Purpurmantel,

Die Krone von Golde schwer.

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