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2t 17. Student-Song. Words by Chr. Richardt. — Music by J. P. E. Harlmaim.

We are a tribe of fellows gay From all the world’s four quarters; Our kingdom is, I well dåre say, Of books all kinds and orders. But youth is our title’s right, Where chance and luck are leading And where grapes are growing tight, We gathered are to meeting. A life enslaved in tie and lace. In truth, we should not love, there nobody would you embrace But only shake your glove. The poetry, they study there Is wanting inspiration, Substance commonly is air, And form is affectation. A world, whose light you cannot see for gold in heaps and staple This an ideal is, may be, For hunks insatiable. Camphine and gas 's their only sheen but where ’s the day’s bright jewel, Meadow is but bleaching-green, And wood is only fuel. But we will trust the radiant sun, If we perceive the shadow, And finish work, that is begun, Should still our means be narrow. Were all the world a vale of tears By us you won’t find any, Hope 's a tiny boat, that cheers, And it may hold a many.

18. Commemorative Song for the fallen Danish Soldiers, 1848. Words by H. P. Holst. — Music by J. P. E. Hartmann.

Sweetly rest in Slesvig’s mouldl By your lives you paid it dearly! Summer-flowers strew their gold O’er your graves both late and early. Memory flies like a bird To dear Slesvig’s land, and lonely Sings in simple song the word, That you died for Slesvig only. Lonely, for the broken eye No benignant hånd did close, No friend there did say good-bye, No one heard the sigh that rose.