Die Trommel gerühret,
Das Pfeifchen gespielt!
Mein Liebster gewaffnet
Dem Haufen befiehlt,
Die Lanze hoch führet,
Die Leute regieret.
Wie klopft mir das Herz!
Wie wallt mir das Blut!
O hätt' ich ein Wämslein
Und Hosen und Hut!
Ich folgt' ihm zum Tor 'naus
mit mutigem Schritt,
Ging' durch die Provinzen,
ging' überall mit.
Die Feinde schon weichen,
Wir schiessen da drein;
Welch' Glück sondergleichen,
Ein Mannsbild zu sein!
About the headline (FAQ)
Text Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Ludwig van Beethoven (1770 - 1827), "Klärchens Lied I", alternate title: "Die Trommel gerühret", op. 84 no. 1, from stage composition Egmont, no. 2 [sung text checked 1 time]
- by Walter Braunfels (1882 - 1954), "Die Trommel gerühret", op. 29 no. 2 (1916-7) [ voice and piano ], from Drei Goethe-Lieder, no. 2 [sung text checked 1 time]
- by Friedrich Wilhelm Grund (1791 - 1874), "Aus Egmont", published c1830, from Sechs Lieder von Goethe, no. 6 [sung text not yet checked]
- by Johann Christoph Kienlen (1783 - 1829), "Lied aus Egmont", published 1810, from Zwölf Lieder von Goethe, no. 8 [sung text not yet checked]
- by Johann Friedrich Bonneval de La Trobe (1769 - 1845), "Aus Egmont" [ voice and piano ], from Zwölf deutsche Lieder, no. 3 [sung text not yet checked]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- DUT Dutch (Nederlands) [singable] (Lau Kanen) , copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ENG English (Emily Ezust) , "Bang the drum!", copyright ©
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "On bat le tambour!", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 18
Word count: 69
Bang the drum,
play the fife!
My love is armed for war
and commands his host;
he holds the lances high
and commands his men.
How my heart pounds!
How my blood races!
O if only I had a doublet,
and breeches and helm!
I would follow him through the gate
with courageous step,
and march through the provinces,
march everywhere with him.
The enemy has grown weak,
we fire at them;
what happiness without equal
to be a man!
