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Updated: June 14, 2025
Dein /Wohl/ is unser /Stolz/, dein /Leiden/, unser /Schmerz/, /Und/ Hendel's /Tempel ist der Musensoehne Herz/." These have no remarkable effect in English, as to us the words of Latin origin are often as familiar as those which have Teutonic roots; and these form the chief peculiarity of the style.
Before the exciting story so rudely interrupted is resumed, it may be well to set down in their sequence the queer workings of fortune which led to Philip's timely reappearance at Las FIores. His troop of scouts consisted of twenty-eight men. Five were sailors and firemen from the Andromeda; three were Germans from the Unser Fritz.
He was stricken with illness at Eisenach, but went on as soon as he recovered. When he caught sight of the old towers of Worms, his spirit leapt with joy, and he began to sing his famous hymn, "Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott." The crowded streets testified to the fame that had gone before him. Not even the Emperor had met with such a flattering reception.
A piano was brought into the room, and his daughter played two hymns one of them "Ein fester burg ist unser Gott" to which he listened with tears in his eyes. It was Sunday, and Charles Kingsley preached at the Castle. The Queen was present, but she noted sadly that she did not hear a word.
You represented the Sarci here, and had we been wanted you would have sent for me. Who are to attack the temple tomorrow?" "Not the Sarci, my son. Unser begged that he and his tribe might have the honour, and the queen and council granted it to him." "I am glad of it, mother.
The sturdy brown flagon was brought, and the gleaming pewter mugs were filled it was long before the days of Temperance Societies even the preacher thinking it no harm to take his mug of the sweet, amber-coloured draught. Neville read from the great family Bible that night the majestic forty-sixth psalm, so grandly paraphrased in Luther's hymn, "Ein' feste Burg ist unser Gott;"
"Why should Beric succeed when Unser has failed?" one of the chiefs said. "Can a lad achieve a success where one of our best and bravest chiefs has been repulsed?" "I think that he might," Aska replied. "At any rate, as he is ready to risk his life and his tribe in doing so, I pray the queen to give her consent. He demands three hours to make his preparations for the attack."
Du Land des Ruhmes, Weih' zu deines Heiligthumes Hutern, uns and unser Schwert." There were other songs, too. And some wonderful quality in the German's voice gave you a thrill when you heard them, albeit you could not understand the words. Richter never guessed how Stephen, with his eyes on his book, used to drink in those airs. And presently he found out that they were inspired.
All these were playing the "Little Wee Dog" to their brazen hearts' content, and only one gentleman on a feeble piccolo-flute trying to choke their impiety by tootling out a variation, just as the stringed instruments in the glorious "Reformation Symphony" of Mendelssohn try in vain to drown with their sensuous Roman airs the massive chords of the old Lutheran chorale "Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott."
'Unser vater, der du bist im himmel, sanctificado se el tu nombra; il tuo regno venga." Here Essper George was proceeding with a scrap of modern Greek, when the horsemen suddenly came upon one of those broad green vistas which we often see in forests, and which are generally cut, either for the convenience of hunting, or carting wood.
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