#song of the bell

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quientehaflechado:uispeccoll:As far as I could tell, this book of poetry was just filled with picturquientehaflechado:uispeccoll:As far as I could tell, this book of poetry was just filled with picturquientehaflechado:uispeccoll:As far as I could tell, this book of poetry was just filled with picturquientehaflechado:uispeccoll:As far as I could tell, this book of poetry was just filled with picturquientehaflechado:uispeccoll:As far as I could tell, this book of poetry was just filled with pictur

quientehaflechado:

uispeccoll:

As far as I could tell, this book of poetry was just filled with pictures of grumpy babies, but after some research I discovered there was a little bit more to it.  

Furthering my desire to learn German, I found this book while I was going through our shelves and the heavily gilded cover immediately caught my eye. Das Lied von der Glocke translates to Song of the Bell in English, and is one of the longest, and most famous, poems in German history.  This copy was published in 1879, but the earliest version was published in 1798.

-Kelly

Schiller, Friedrich. Das Lied von der Glocke. Illustrirt in 32 Compositionen von Alexander Liezen Mayer; mit 43 ornamentalen Zeichnungen von Rudolf Seitz.  München, T. Ströfer [1879]

FOLIO PT2466 .A8 1879 

Oddly enough, I only reblogged it for the cover, I didn’t pay attention to the owners name or read the description of the book until now. strangeandsombre at first, I thought I had reblogged this from you…

Wonderful! I hadn’t heard of this, so thank you for introducing me to a new work. This seems so apt. (Also grumpy babies forever. :) ).

The Song of the Bell

Woe! When in fiery torrents flowing,
The ore itself seeks liberty!
In blindest rage with thundrous roaring,
The bursting house it rushes through,
As if the jaws of hell were pouring
The flames that death and horror spew.
Where raw wild forces rage and blight,
Men can create no form aright;
And no true welfare can there be,
When mobs are by themselves set free.
Woe, when the tinder-heap is swelling
In hearts of cities, in the night,
The masses tear their chains, rebelling,
And free themselves with fury’s might!
Then riot, to the bell-ropes clinging,
Pulls till the bell begins to howl;
Devoted once to peaceful ringing,
She gives the sign for outrage foul.


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