Carmen Saeculare

Therefore, this message of the Gods to thee ! What banner floats above thy bastions ? The oriflamme, the golden fleur-de-lys ? The eagle, or the tricolour ? Thy sons Choose their own flag, contented to be free, With freemen’s orisons. The mist is gathering on the seer’s sight— I cannot see the future of thy state. Or, am I dazzled by resounding light ? I know this thing—thy future shall be great ! Come war, come revolution ! In their spite Thou mayst compel thy Fate. O German Empire ! Let thy sons beware, Not crowding sordid towns for lust of gold, Not all forgetful of the herdsman’s care, Not arming all men in an iron mould. Peaceful be thou : with watching and with prayer. But be not overbold. Fall, Austria ! In the very day and hour That reverend head that holds thee in its awe Shall sink in peace, I see thy rotten power Break as the crumbling ice-floe in the thaw. Destruction shatters thy blood-builded tower. Death has thee in his maw. 12