Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, HANS LACK-LAND, by HEINRICH HEINE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

HANS LACK-LAND, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Farewell, my wife, said lack-land hans
Last Line: My name will never mention.
Subject(s): Farewell; Germany; Parting; Germans


FAREWELL, my wife, said Lack-Land Hans,
A lofty object elates me;
Far different goats I now must shoot,
Far different game awaits me.

I'll leave thee behind my hunting horn,
Thou canst in my absence daily.
Play merrily on it, for thou hast learnt
To blow on the post-horn gaily.

I'll also leave thee behind my hound,
To be the castle's defender;
My German folk, like faithful dogs,
Will guard me and never surrender.

They offer me the imperial throne,
Their affection is almost provoking
My image is graven on every heart,
And every pipe they are smoking.

Ye Germans are a wonderful race,
So simple and yet so clever;
One forgets that gunpowder, but for you,
Had been discover'd never.

Your emperor, -- no, your father I'll be,
Your welfare shall be my sole glory --
O blissful thought! it makes me as proud
As the Gracchi's mother in story.

I'll govern my people by feeling alone,
And not by the light of mere reason;
I never could bear diplomacy,
And politics hate like treason.

A huntsman am I, and Nature's own child,
Who had in the forest my training,
With chamois and snipe and roebuck and boar, --
A foe to all nonsense and feigning.

By proclamations I never enticed,
No printed pamphlet invented;
I say: "My people, the salmon's all gone,
"With cod for to-day be contented.

"If I don't please you as Emperor, take
"The first donkey that comes about you;
"I had, when I lived in the Tyrol, no lack,
"I've plenty to eat without you."

Thus speak I, but now, my wife, farewell,
I must end my long discourses;
My father-in-law's postilion's outside,
A waiting me with the horses.

Quick, hand me over my travelling cap,
With the ribbon all black-red-golden;
Thou'lt see me soon with the diadem,
In the dress imperial and olden.

Thou'lt see me in the Pluvial too,
The purple robe so glorious,
The gift of the Saracen Sultan erst
To Otto, the Caesar victorious.

Beneath, I shall wear the Dalmatian dress,
Whereon, in each species of jewel,
A train of lions and camels is work'd,
And fabulous monsters and cruel.

Upon my breast the stole I shall wear,
Significantly blended
With eagles black on a yellow ground, --
The garment is really splendid.

Farewell! Posterity shall say
I reign'd with honest intention. --
Who knows? Posterity perchance
My name will never mention.





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