The hours were heavy, dull, and dead,
Around us crept a rumour dread
That croaked as 'twere an evil bird,
Of swarthy hue, at twilight heard.

The evil rumour swiftly spread,
With vile reports of phantoms dread;
It hinted feuds and traitorous deeds
And perishing of precious seeds.

The friends of evil lose their fear,
With spite they grin, aloud they sneer;
The good stand resolute and dumb,
Waiting to learn what end will come.

Then o'er the Rhine a something flies;
And breaks the mists that veil the skies;
Is 't sunny flight of eagles proud,
Or tuneful swans with voices loud?

From golden clouds this song doth break—
“The Lord His own will ne'er forsake;
He guards from scorn all righteous powers,
God fights for us, the Victory's ours!”