"Bingen on the Rhine" (1847)
a Song
As Sung by
Miss Julia Northall
Composed & Respectfully Dedicated to
Miss Mary F. Potts
By
H. S. Saroni.
Words by the Hon. Mrs. Norton.

Boston, MA: G. P. Reed, 17 Tremont Row
[Source: 124/013@Levy]

1. 
A soldier of the legion L
Lay dying in Algiers 
There was lack of woman’s nursing 
There was dearth of woman’s tears 
But a comrade stood beside him, 
While his lifeblood ebb’d away 
And bent with pitying glances, 
to hear what he might say. 
The dying soldier falter’d 
As he took that comrade’s hand 
And he said I never more shall see 
my own my native land. 
Take a message and a token to 
some distant friends of mine 
For I was born at Bingen at Bingen on the Rhine 
for I was born at Bingen on the Rhine.

2.
Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around
To bear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground,
That we fought the battle bravely and when the day was done,
Full many a cor[p]s lay ghastly pale, beneath the setting sun;
And midst the dead and dying were some grown old in scars--
The death wound on their gallant breast, the last of many wars,
But some were young and suddenly, beheld life's noon decline,
And one had come from Bingen, from Bingen on the Rhine.

3.
Tell my mother that her other sons shall comfort her old age,
And I was still a truant bird, that thought his home a cage;
For my foather was a soldier, and even as a child
My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild;
And when he died and left to divide his scanty hoard
I let them take whater'er they would but kept my father's sword;
And with boyish love I hung to it where the bright light used to shine
On the cottage wall at Bingen, at Bingen on the Rhine.

4.
Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head
When the troops are marching home again, with glad and gallant tread;
But look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye,
For her brother was a soldier and not afraid to die,
And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name
To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame,
And to hang the old sword in its place, (my father's sword and mine)
For the honor of old Bingen, dear Bingen on the Rhine.

5.
There's another, not a sister, in the happy days by
You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye;
Too innocent for coquetry, too fond for idle scorning--
Oh! friend, I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning!
Tell her-- the last night of my life-- for ere the morn has risen
My body will be out of pain-- (my soul be out of prison)
I dreamed I stood with _her_, and saw the yellow sunlight shine
On the vine clad hills of Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine.

6.
I saw the blue Rhine sweep along, I heard or seemed to hear
The _German songs_ we used to sing, in chorus sweet and clear,
And down the pleasant river and up the slanting hill
That echoing chorus sounded through the evening calm and still;
And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed with friendly talk,
Down many a path believed of yore, and well remember'd walk.
And her little hand lay lightly, confidently in mine--
But we'll meet no more at Bingen-- loved Bingen on the Rhine.

7.
His voice grew faint and hoarser, his grasp was childish weak.
His eyes put on a dying look, he sighed and ceased to speak.
His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled.
The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land was dead!
And the soft moon rose up slowly and calmly she looked down
On the red sand of the battle field, with bloody corpses strewn.
Yea, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine
As it shone on distant Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine!