Down the dark future, through long g

The echoing sounds grow fainter and And like a bell, with solemn, sweet v I hear once more the voice of "Peace!"

Peace! and no longer from its brazen The blast of War's great organ

skies!

But beautiful as songs of the immortal

The holy melodies of love arise.

tions, cease;

ons, t say,

als es the

NUREMBERG.

In the valley of the Pegnitz, where across broad

meadow-lands

Rise the blue Franconian mountains, Nuremberg, the ancient, stands.

Quaint old town of toil and traffic, quaint old town of art and song,

Memories haunt thy pointed gables, like the rooks that round them throng :

Memories of the Middle Ages, whe

perors, rough and bold,

Had their dwelling in thy castle, tim centuries old;

And thy brave and thrifty burghers b their uncouth rhyme,

That their great imperial city stretched through every clime.

In the court-yard of the castle, bound w an iron band,

Stands the mighty linden planted by Cunigunde's hand;

On the square the oriel window, where heroic days

Sat the poet Melchior singing Kaiser M

ian's praise.