Von Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 - 1882), dessen Verserzählung "Hiawatha" auch Winnetou las, wie Karl May in "Winnetou der rote Gentleman, 1. Band" berichtete, habe ich folgendes Gedicht gefunden:
Quote
In the valley of the Pegnitz,
where across broad meadow-lands
Rise the blue Franconian mountains,
Nuremberg, the ancient, stands.
Quaint old town of toil and traffic,
quaint old town of art and song,
Memories haunt thy pointed gables,
like the rooks that round them throng:
Memories of the Middle Ages,
when the emperors, rough and bold,
Had their dwelling in thy castle,
time-defying, centuries old;
And thy brave and thrifty burghers
boasted, in their uncouth rhyme,
That their great imperial city stretched
its hand through every clime.
...
Vanished is the ancient splendor,
and before my dreamy eye
Wave these mingled shapes and figures,
like a faded tapestry.
Not thy Councils, not thy Kaisers,
win for thee the world's regard;
But thy painter, Albrecht Durer,
and Hans Sachs thy cobbler-bard.
Thus, O Nuremberg, a wanderer
from a region far away,
As he paced thy streets and court-yards,
sang in thought his careless lay:
Gathering from the pavement's crevice,
as a floweret of the soil,
The nobility of labour,--
the long pedigree of toil.
