Manned from the Odenwald—a dauntless crew
Who dream of the blue Rhine, and toast their wives
In Schirauz wine, yet, as they gaily quaff,
Scoff at the Persian vintage—they have drank
Their last, last drop crushed from the topaz grape
That gems their native river. We will swell
The ocean with our flood[1], let the wild winds
Rave o'er the waters, till the angry waves
Lashed into fury, climbing to the clouds,
Divide and combat. Mid the deadly crash
Of warring elements, the thunders peal,
And lightnings fierce illumination, I
Shall laugh to see the shattered vessel drive
Before the storm, wheel round and round, then sink
For ever in the fathomless abyss—
There will be music in the dying cry
Of one for whom the rest are doomed. Von Karl,
Wilt thou remember when the sweeping surge
Comes rolling onward, her whom thy false vows
Have ruined, soul and body? What doth ail
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