HEINE ON GERMAN HATE.
[To THE EDITOR OF TEE " SPECTATOR."] •
Sza,—A little poem of Heine's—of which I have ventured to make a translation—shows that the German virtue of hatred is not so new as many people think:-
" BOTH SIDES OF THE RHINE.
Tender ravings, frenzied kisses, Dallyings warm with rose-red blisses, Graceful lying, fooling sweet, British lust subdued and meet, With you in France the art complete Of Love is practised : nought one misses.
But we in German land who dwell,
We can hate supremely well.
Hate from our inmost nature swills, Our German hate like dew distils, And Heidelberg's great tun it fills To overflow with venom fell."
From a distance Heine professed a patronizing sort of love for a Germany- which was largely a land of his own imaginings. He liked a few of his countrymen. What he felt towards Prussians is well known to all who read him.—I am, Sir, &c.,
7 Mansfield Street, Portland Place. W. G. WATERS.
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