The Rhingau Song.

A poem by John Carr

This is the favourite Song with the Inhabitants of the vine-covered Region of the Rhingau, an extensive District along the Banks of the Rhine, where the finest Wines are produced.


ORIGINAL.

Bekrantzt mit laub den liebe vollen becher,
Und trinkt ihn frölich leer;
In Gauz Europa ihr herren zecher,
Ist solch, ein wein micht mehr.

Ihn bringt das vaterland aus seiner fulle,
Wie wär er sonst so gut?
Wie wär er sonst so edel, stille,
Und doch voll kraft und muth?

Am Rhein, am Rhein, da wachsen unsre reben:
Gesegnet sey der Rhein!
Da wachsen sie am ufer hin, und geben
Uns diesen labe wein.

So trinkt ihn dann, und lasst uns alle wege
Uns freun, und frölich seyn;
Und wüsten wir, wo jemand traurig läge,
Wir gaben ihm den wein.


TRANSLATION.

With wine-leaves crown the jovial cup,
For, search all Europe round,
You'll say, as pleas'd you drink it up,
Such wine was never found.
Such wine, &c.

Our fathers' land this vine supplies;
What soil can e'er produce
But this, tho' warm'd with genial skies,
Such mild, such gen'rous juice?
Such mild, &c.

Then shall the Rhine our smiles receive,
For on its banks alone
Can e'er be found a wine to give
The soul its proper tone.
The soul, &c.

Come, put the jovial cup around,
Our joys it will enhance,
If any one is mournful found,
One sip shall make him dance.
One sip, &c.

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