Verse > Anthologies > Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. > Poems of Places > Germany
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed.  Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Germany: Vols. XVII–XVIII.  1876–79.
 
Miscellaneous
Lützow’s Wild Chase
Karl Theodor Körner (1791–1813)
 
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!
 
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!
 
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!
 
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!
 
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
 
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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