One night, my carriage bore me all alone 
Across that well-known German territory 
Where many a heart, by power beaten. down, 
Rages in impotent and blazing fury. 


In fury that the freedom bought so dear 
With struggle and with ceaseless vigilance 
Had been cast out, for venal tongues to jeer 
And cavil at with cruel insolence. 


A mist lay on the meadows, deep and calm. 
At times, a gust of wind would smite amain 
The poplar-trees and they, in quick alarm 
Aroused from sleep, soon slumbered on again. 


Clear was the air. Sharp hung the sickle moon, 

A sword of Damocles above the town 

Towards which I sped. The wrath of kings flies soon 
From far away to strike its victims down. 


Around the carriage wheels run leaping packs 
Of dogs that bark at me. And do they howl 
Just like the Capital’s paid writer-hacks, 
Having caught wind of my free-thinking soul? 


What do I care? Sunk in my cushions low, 

I live in dreams of many brave tomorrows. 

Make no mistake— just before dawn, we know, 
The nightmare plumbs the deepest of its horrors. 


152 


Frederick Engels 


Yes, morning comes at last in silence stealing. 
A single star shines forth to light its way. 
The pious wake to bells of freedom pealing— 
No tocsin now, but peace this joyful day! 


The spirit’s tree has coiled its root-limbs round 
The past, to crush all things outworn and old, 
And now its branches strew the world around 
With shining blossoms of eternal gold! 


And so I slept, and woke that morning after, 
And saw the earth all happy, cleansed and bright, 
And Stüve’s city* filled with joy and laughter, 
City of Freedom, bathed in morning light.