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WILLIAMTELL. Friedrich Schiller


   When hostile elements with rage resound,
    And fury blindly fans war’s lurid flame,-
   When in the strife of party quarrel drowned,
    The voice of justice no regard can claim,-
   When crime is free, and impious hands are found
    The sacred to pollute, devoid of shame,
   And loose the anchor which the state maintains,-
   No subject there we find for joyous strains.

   But when a nation, that its flocks still feeds
    With calm content, nor other’s wealth desires
   Throws off the cruel yoke ’neath which it bleeds,
    Yet, e’en in wrath, humanity admires,-
   And, e’en in triumph, moderation heeds,-
    That is immortal, and our song requires. 
   To show thee such an image now is mine;
   Thou knowest it well, for all that’s great is thine!

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