C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Prophecy

Translation of Francis J. Lange

FROM the charger’s glances, the hoof’s uplifting,

Stamping of hoofs, neighing, snorting, and bound,

The bards foretold fate; I too see,

And my eye pierces the future.

Will it gall forever? Thy yoke, Germania,

Soon it will fall: one more century yet,

And then it is done; then the rule

Of the sword yields to the reason.

For with curving neck through the forest rushed he,

Bounded along, tossed his mane to the wind,—

The steed,—as an omen, with scorn

For the storm’s rage and the stream’s rage.

On the meadow stood he, and stamped and neighing

Lifted his eyes; careless grazed he, and proud,

Nor looked on the rider who lay

In his blood, dead by the merestone.

It is not forever! Thy yoke, Germania,

Soon it will fall: one more century yet,

And then it is done; then the rule

Of the sword yields to the reason.