Back Aa

Camp of Wallenstein

<h2> SCENE VIII. </h2> Enter Miners, and play a waltz—at first slowly, and afterwards quicker. The first Yager dances with the girl, the Sutler-woman with the recruit. The girl springs away, and the Yager, pursuing her, seizes hold of a Capuchin Friar just entering. CAPUCHIN. Hurrah! halloo! tol, lol, de rol, le! The fun's at its height! I'll not be away! Is't an army of Christians that join in such works? Or are we all turned Anabaptists and Turks? Is the Sabbath a day for this sport in the land, As though the great God had the gout in his hand, And thus couldn't smite in the midst of your band? Say, is this a time for your revelling shouts, For your banquetings, feasts, and holiday bouts? Quid hic statis otiosi? declare Why, folding your arms, stand ye lazily there? While the furies of war on the Danube now fare And Bavaria's bulwark is lying full low, And Ratisbon's fast in the clutch of the foe. Yet, the army lies here in Bohemia still, And caring for naught, so their paunches they fill! Bottles far rather than battles you'll get, And your bills than your broad-swords more readily wet; With the wenches, I ween, is your dearest concern, And you'd rather roast oxen than Oxenstiern. In sackcloth and ashes while Christendom's grieving, No thought has the soldier his guzzle of leaving. 'Tis a time of misery, groans, and tears! Portentous the face of the heavens appears! And forth from the clouds behold blood-red, The Lord's war-mantle is downward spread— While the comet is thrust as a threatening rod, From the window of heaven by the hand of God. The world is but one vast house of woe, The ark of the church stems a bloody flow, The Holy Empire—God help the same! Has wretchedly sunk to a hollow name. The Rhine's gay stream has a gory gleam, The cloister's nests are robbed by roysters; The church-lands now are changed to lurch-lands; Abbacies, and all other holy foundations Now are but robber-sees—rogues' habitations. And thus is each once-blest German state, Deep sunk in the gloom of the desolate! Whence comes all this? Oh, that will I tell— It comes of your doings, of sin, and of hell; Of the horrible, heathenish lives ye lead, Soldiers and officers, all of a breed. For sin is the magnet, on every hand, That draws your steel throughout the land! As the onion causes the tear to flow, So vice must ever be followed by woe— The W duly succeeds the V, This is the order of A, B, C. Ubi erit victoriae spes, Si offenditur Deus? which says, How, pray ye, shall victory e'er come to pass, If thus you play truant from sermon and mass, And do nothing but lazily loll o'er the glass? The woman, we're told in the Testament, Found the penny in search whereof she went. Saul met with his father's asses again, And Joseph his precious fraternal train, But he, who 'mong soldiers shall hope to see God's fear, or shame, or discipline—he From his toil, beyond doubt, will baffled return, Though a hundred lamps in the search he burn. To the wilderness preacher, th' Evangelist says, The soldiers, too, thronged to repent of their ways, And had themselves christened in former days. Quid faciemus nos? they said: Toward Abraham's bosom what path must we tread? Et ait illis, and, said he, Neminem concutiatis; From bother and wrongs leave your neighbors free. Neque calumniam faciatis; And deal nor in slander nor lies, d'ye see? Contenti estote—content ye, pray, Stipendiis vestris—with your pay— And curse forever each evil way. There is a command—thou shalt not utter The name of the Lord thy God in vain; But, where is it men most blasphemies mutter? Why here, in Duke Friedland's headquarters, 'tie plain If for every thunder, and every blast, Which blazing ye from your tongue-points cast, The bells were but rung, in the country round, Not a bellman, I ween, would there soon be found; And if for each and every unholy prayer Which to vent from your jabbering jaws you dare, From your noddles were plucked but the smallest hair, Ev'ry crop would be smoothed ere the sun went down, Though at morn 'twere as bushy as Absalom's crown. Now, Joshua, methinks, was a soldier as well— By the arm of King David the Philistine fell; But where do we find it written, I pray, That they ever blasphemed in this villanous way? One would think ye need stretch your jaws no more, To cry, "God help us!" than "Zounds!" to roar. But, by the liquor that's poured in the cask, we know With what it will bubble and overflow. Again, it is written—thou shalt not steal, And this you follow, i'faith! to the letter, For open-faced robbery suits ye better. The gripe of your vulture claws you fix On all—and your wiles and rascally tricks Make the gold unhid in our coffers now, And the calf unsafe while yet in the cow— Ye take both the egg and the hen, I vow. Contenti estote—the preacher said; Which means—be content with your army bread. But how should the slaves not from duty swerve? The mischief begins with the lord they serve, Just like the members so is the head. I should like to know who can tell me his creed. FIRST YAGER. Sir priest, 'gainst ourselves rail on as you will— Of the general we warn you to breathe no ill. CAPUCHIN. Ne custodias gregem meam! An Ahab is he, and a Jerobeam, Who the people from faith's unerring way, To the worship of idols would turn astray, TRUMPETER and RECRUIT. Let us not hear that again, we pray. CAPUCHIN. Such a Bramarbas, whose iron tooth Would seize all the strongholds of earth forsooth! Did he not boast, with ungodly tongue, That Stralsund must needs to his grasp be wrung, Though to heaven itself with a chain 'twere strung? TRUMPETER. Will none put a stop to his slanderous bawl? CAPUCHIN. A wizard he is!—and a sorcerer Saul!— Holofernes!—a Jehu!—denying, we know, Like St. Peter, his Master and Lord below; And hence must he quail when the cock doth crow— BOTH YAGERS. Now, parson, prepare; for thy doom is nigh. CAPUCHIN. A fox more cunning than Herod, I trow— TRUMPETER and both YAGERS (pressing against him). Silence, again,—if thou wouldst not die! CROATS (interfering.) Stick to it, father; we'll shield you, ne'er fear; The close of your preachment now let's hear. CAPUCHIN (still louder). A Nebuchadnezzar in towering pride! And a vile and heretic sinner beside! He calls himself rightly the stone of a wall; For faith! he's a stumbling-stone to us all. And ne'er can the emperor have peace indeed, Till of Friedland himself the land is freed. [During the last passages which he pronounces in an elevated voice, he has been gradually retreating, the Croats keeping the other soldiers off. <h2> SCENE IX. </h2> The above, without the Capuchin. FIRST YAGER (to the Sergeant). But, tell us, what meant he about chanticleer; Whose crowing the general dares to hear? No doubt it was uttered in spite and scorn. SERGEANT. Listen—'Tis not so untrue as it appears; For Friedland was rather mysteriously born, And is 'specially troubled with ticklish ears; He can never suffer the mew of a cat; And when the cock crows he starts thereat. FIRST YAGER. He's one and the same with the lion in that. SERGEANT. Mouse-still must all around him creep, Strict watch in this the sentinels keep, For he ponders on matters most grave and deep. [Voices in the tent. A tumult. Seize the rascal! Lay on! lay on! PEASANT'S VOICE. Help!—mercy—help! OTHERS. Peace! peace! begone! FIRST YAGER. Deuce take me, but yonder the swords are out! SECOND YAGER. Then I must be off, and see what 'tis about. [Yagers enter the tent. SUTLER-WOMAN (comes forward). A scandalous villain!—a scurvy thief! TRUMPETER. Good hostess, the cause of this clamorous grief? SUTLER-WOMAN. A cut-purse! a scoundrel! the-villain I call. That the like in my tent should ever befall! I'm disgraced and undone with the officers all. SERGEANT. Well, coz, what is it? SUTLER-WOMAN. Why, what should it be? But a peasant they've taken just now with me— A rogue with false dice, to favor his play. TRUMPETER. See I they're bringing the boor and his son this way. <h2> SCENE X. </h2> Soldiers dragging in the peasant, bound. FIRST YAGER. He must hang! SHARPSHOOTERS and DRAGOONS. To the provost, come on! SERGEANT. 'Tis the latest order that forth has gone. SUTLER-WOMAN. In an hour I hope to behold him swinging! SERGEANT. Bad work bad wages will needs be bringing. FIRST ARQUEBUSIER (to the others). This comes of their desperation. We First ruin them out and out, d'ye see; Which tempts them to steal, as it seems to me. TRUMPETER. How now! the rascal's cause would you plead? The cur! the devil is in you indeed! FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. The boor is a man—as a body may say. FIRST YAGER (to the Trumpeter). Let 'em go! they're of Tiefenbach's corps, the railers, A glorious train of glovers and tailors! At Brieg, in garrison, long they lay; What should they know about camps, I pray? <h2> SCENE XI. </h2> The above.—Cuirassiers. FIRST CUIRASSIER. Peace! what's amiss with the boor, may I crave? FIRST SHARPSHOOTER. He has cheated at play, the cozening knave! FIRST CUIRASSIER. But say, has he cheated you, man, of aught? FIRST SHARPHOOTER. Just cleaned me out—and not left me a groat. FIRST CUIRASSIER. And can you, who've the rank of a Friedland man, So shamefully cast yourself away, As to try your luck with the boor at play? Let him run off, so that run he can. [The peasant escapes, the others throng together. FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. He makes short work—is of resolute mood— And that with such fellows as these is good. Who is he? not of Bohemia, that's clear. SUTLER-WOMAN. He's a Walloon—and respect, I trow, Is due to the Pappenheim cuirassier! FIRST DRAGOON (joining). Young Piccolomini leads them now, Whom they chose as colonel, of their own free might, When Pappenheim fell in Luetzen's fight. FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. Durst they, indeed, presume so far? FIRST DRAGOON. This regiment is something above the rest. It has ever been foremost through the war, And may manage its laws, as it pleases best; Besides, 'tis by Friedland himself caressed. FIRST CUIRASSIER (to the Second.) Is't so in truth, man? Who averred it? SECOND CUIRASSIER. From the lips of the colonel himself I heard it. FIRST CUIRASSIER. The devil! we're not their dogs, I weep! FIRST YAGER. How now, what's wrong? You're swollen with spleen! SECOND YAGER. Is it anything, comrades, may us concern? FIRST CUIRASSIER. 'Tis what none need be wondrous glad to learn. The Soldiers press round him. To the Netherlands they would lend us now— Cuirassiers, Yagers, and Shooters away, Eight thousand in all must march, they say. SUTLER-WOMAN. What! What! again the old wandering way— I got back from Flanders but yesterday! SECOND CUIRASSIER (to the Dragoons). You of Butler's corps must tramp with the rest. FIRST CUIRASSIER. And we, the Walloons, must doubtless be gone. SUTLER-WOMAN. Why, of all our squadrons these are the best. FIRST CUIRASSIER. To march where that Milanese fellow leads on. FIRST YAGER. The infant? that's queer enough in its way. SECOND YAGER. The priest—then, egad! there's the devil to pay. FIRST CUIRASSIER. Shall we then leave the Friedlander's train, Who so nobly his soldiers doth entertain— And drag to the field with this fellow from Spain! A niggard whom we in our souls disdain! That'll never go down—I'm off, I swear. TRUMPETER. Why, what the devil should we do there? We sold our blood to the emperor—ne'er For this Spanish red hat a drop we'll spare! SECOND YAGER. On the Friedlander's word and credit alone We ranged ourselves in the trooper line, And, but for our love to Wallenstein, Ferdinand ne'er had our service known. FIRST DRAGOON. Was it not Friedland that formed our force? His fortune shall still be the star of our course. SERGEANT. Silence, good comrades, to me give ear— Talking does little to help us here. Much farther in this I can see than you all, And a trap has been laid in which we're to fall; FIRST YAGER. List to the order-book! hush—be still! SERGEANT. But first, Cousin Gustel, I pray thee fill A glass of Melneck, as my stomach's but weak When I've tossed it off, my mind I'll speak. SUTLER-WOMAN. Take it, good sergeant. I quake for fear— Think you that mischief is hidden here? SERGEANT. Look ye, my friends, 'tis fit and clear That each should consider what's most near. But as the general says, say I, One should always the whole of a case descry. We call ourselves all the Friedlander's troops; The burgher, on whom we're billeted, stoops Our wants to supply, and cooks our soups. His ox, or his horse, the peasant must chain To our baggage-car, and may grumble in vain. Just let a lance-corp'ral, with seven good men, Tow'rd a village from far but come within ken, You're sure he'll be prince of the place, and may Cut what capers he will, with unquestioned sway. Why, zounds! lads, they heartily hate us all— And would rather the devil should give them a call, Than our yellow collars. And why don't they fall On us fairly at once and get rid of our lumber? They're more than our match in point of number, And carry the cudgel as we do the sword. Why can we laugh them to scorn? By my word Because we make up here a terrible horde. FIRST YAGER. Ay, ay, in the mass lies the spell of our might, And the Friedlander judged the matter aright, When, some eight or nine years ago, he brought The emperor's army together. They thought Twelve thousand enough for the general. In vain, Said he, such a force I can never maintain. Sixty thousand I'll bring ye into the plain, And they, I'll be sworn, won't of hunger die, And thus were we Wallenstein's men, say I. SERGEANT. For example, cut one of my fingers off, This little one here from my right hand doff. Is the taking my finger then all you've done? No, no, to the devil my hand is gone! 'Tis a stump—no more—and use has none. The eight thousand horse they wish to disband May be but a finger of our army's hand. But when they're once gone may we understand We are but one-fifth the less? Oh, no— By the Lord, the whole to the devil will go! All terror, respect, and awe will be over, And the peasant will swell his crest once more; And the Board of Vienna will order us where Our troops must be quartered and how we must fare, As of old in the days of their beggarly care. Yes, and how long it will be who can say Ere the general himself they may take away? For they don't much like him at court I learn? And then it's all up with the whole concern! For who, to our pay, will be left to aid us? And see that they keep the promise they made us? Who has the energy—who the mind— The flashing thought—and the fearless hand— Together to bring, and thus fastly bind The fragments that form our close-knit band. For example, dragoon—just answer us now, From which of the countries of earth art thou? DRAGOON. From distant Erin came I here. SERGEANT (to the two Cuirassiers). You're a Walloon, my friend, that's clear, And you, an Italian, as all may hear. FIRST CUIRASSIER. Who I may be, faith! I never could say; In my infant years they stole me away. SERGEANT. And you, from what far land may you be? FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. I come from Buchau—on the Feder Sea. SERGEANT. Neighbor, and you? SECOND ARQUEBUSIER. I am a Swiss. SERGEANT (to the second Yager). And Yager, let's hear where your country is? SECOND YAGER. Up above Wismar my fathers dwell. SERGEANT (pointing to the Trumpeter). And he's from Eger—and I as well: And now, my comrades, I ask you whether, Would any one think, when looking at us, That we, from the North and South, had thus Been hitherward drifted and blown together? Do we not seem as hewn from one mass? Stand we not close against the foe As though we were glued or moulded so? Like mill-work don't we move, d'ye think! 'Mong ourselves in the nick, at a word or wink. Who has thus cast us here all as one, Now to be severed again by none? Who? why, no other than Wallenstein! FIRST YAGER. In my life it ne'er was a thought of mine Whether we suited each other or not, I let myself go with the rest of the lot. FIRST CUIRASSIER. I quite agree in the sergeant's opinion— They'd fain have an end of our camp dominion, And trample the soldier down, that they May govern alone in their own good way. 'Tis a conspiration—a plot, I say! SUTLER-WOMAN. A conspiration—God help the day! Then my customers won't have cash to pay. SERGEANT. Why, faith, we shall all be bankrupts made; The captains and generals, most of them, paid The costs of the regiments with private cash, And, wishing, 'bove all, to cut a dash, Went a little beyond their means—but thought, No doubt, that they thus had a bargain bought. Now they'll be cheated, sirs, one and all, Should our chief, our head, the general fall. SUTLER-WOMAN. Oh, Heaven! this curse I never can brook Why, half of the army stand in my book. Two hundred dollars I've trusted madly That Count Isolani who pays so badly. FIRST CUIRASSIER. Well, comrades, let's fix on what's to be done— Of the ways to save us, I see but one; If we hold together we need not fear; So let us stand out as one man here; And then they may order and send as they will, Fast planted we'll stick in Bohemia still. We'll never give in—no, nor march an inch, We stand on our honor, and must not flinch. SECOND YAGER. We're not to be driven the country about, Let 'em come here, and they'll find it out. FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. Good sirs, 'twere well to bethink ye still, That such is the emperor's sovereign will. TRUMPETER. Oh, as to the emperor, we needn't be nice. FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. Let me not hear you say so twice. TRUMPETER. Why, 'tis even so—as I just have said. FIRST YAGER. True, man—I've always heard 'em say, 'Tis Friedland, alone, you've here to obey. SERGEANT. By our bargain with him it should be so, Absolute power is his, you must know, We've war, or peace, but as he may please, Or gold or goods he has power to seize, And hanging or pardon his will decrees. Captains and colonels he makes—and he, In short, by the imperial seal is free, To hold all the marks of sovereignty. FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. The duke is high and of mighty will, But yet must remain, for good or for ill, Like us all, but the emperor's servant still. SERGEANT. Not like us all—I there disagree— Friedland is quite independent and free, The Bavarian is no more a prince than he For, was I not by myself to see, When on duty at Brandeis, how the emperor said, He wished him to cover his princely head. FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. That was because of the Mecklenburgh land, Which he held in pawn from the emperor's hand. FIRST YAGER (to the Sergeant). In the emperor's presence, man! say you so? That, beyond doubt, was a wonderful go! SERGEANT (feels in his pocket). If you question my word in what I have told, I can give you something to grasp and hold. [Showing a coin. Whose image and stamp d'ye here behold? SUTLER-WOMAN. Oh! that is a Wallenstein's, sure! SERGEANT-MAJOR. Well, there, you have it—what doubt can rest Is he not prince, just as good as the best? Coins he not money like Ferdinand? Hath he not his own subjects and land? Is he not called your highness, I pray? And why should he not have his soldiers in? FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. That no one has ever meant to gainsay; But we're still at the emperor's beck and call, For his majesty 'tis who pays us all. TRUMPETER. In your teeth I deny it—and will again— His majesty 'tis who pays us not, For this forty weeks, say, what have we got But a promise to pay, believed in vain? FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. What then! 'tis kept in safe hands, I suppose. FIRST CUIRASSIER. Peace, good sirs, will you come to blows? Have you a quarrel and squabble to know If the emperor be our master or no? 'Tis because of our rank, as his soldiers brave, That we scorn the lot of the herded slave; And will not be driven from place to place, As priest or puppies our path may trace. And, tell me, is't not the sovereign's gain, If the soldiers their dignity will maintain? Who but his soldiers give him the state Of a mighty, wide-ruling potentate? Make and preserve for him, far and near, The voice which Christendom quakes to hear? Well enough they may his yoke-chain bear, Who feast on his favors, and daily share, In golden chambers, his sumptuous fare. We—we of his splendors have no part, Naught but hard wearying toil and care, And the pride that lives in a soldier's heart. SECOND YAGER. All great tyrants and kings have shown Their wit, as I take it, in what they've done; They've trampled all others with stern command, But the soldier they've led with a gentle hand. FIRST CUIRASSIER. The soldier his worth must understand; Whoe'er doesn't nobly drive the trade, 'Twere best from the business far he'd stayed. If I cheerily set my life on a throw, Something still better than life I'll know; Or I'll stand to be slain for the paltry pelf, As the Croat still does—and scorn myself. BOTH PAGERS. Yes—honor is dearer than life itself. FIRST CUIRASSIER. The sword is no plough, nor delving tool, He, who would till with it, is but a fool. For us, neither grass nor grain doth grow, Houseless the soldier is doomed to go, A changeful wanderer over the earth, Ne'er knowing the warmth of a home-lit hearth. The city glances—he halts—not there— Nor in village meadows, so green and fair; The vintage and harvest wreath are twined He sees, but must leave them far behind. Then, tell me, what hath the soldier left, If he's once of his self-esteem bereft? Something he must have his own to call, Or on slaughter and burnings at once he'll fall. FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. God knows, 'tis a wretched life to live! FIRST CUIRASSIER. Yet one, which I, for no other would give, Look ye—far round in the world I've been, And all of its different service seen. The Venetian Republic—the Kings of Spain And Naples I've served, and served in vain. Fortune still frowned—and merchant and knight, Craftsmen and Jesuit, have met my sight; Yet, of all their jackets, not one have I known To please me like this steel coat of my own. FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. Well—that now is what I can scarcely say. FIRST CUIRASSIER. In the world, a man who would make his way, Must plague and bestir himself night and day. To honor and place if he choose the road, He must bend his back to the golden load. And if home-delights should his fancy please, With children and grandchildren round his knees, Let him follow an honest trade in peace. I've no taste for this kind of life—not I! Free will I live, and as freely die. No man's spoiler nor heir will I be— But, throned on my nag, I will smile to see The coil of the crowd that is under me. FIRST YAGER. Bravo!—that's as I've always done. FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. In truth, sirs, it may be far better fun To trample thus over your neighbor's crown. FIRST CUIRASSIER. Comrade, the times are bad of late— The sword and the scales live separate. But do not then blame that I've preferred, Of the two, to lean, as I have, to the sword. For mercy in war I will yield to none, Though I never will stoop to be drummed upon. FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. Who but the soldier the blame should bear That the laboring poor so hardly fare? The war with its plagues, which all have blasted Now sixteen years in the land hath lasted. FIRST CUIRASSIER. Why, brother, the blessed God above Can't have from us all an equal love. One prays for the sun, at which t'other will fret One is for dry weather-t'other for wet. What you, now, regard as with misery rife, Is to me the unclouded sun of life. If 'tis at the cost of the burgher and boor, I really am sorry that they must endure; But how can I help it? Here, you must know, 'Tis just like a cavalry charge 'gainst the foe: The steeds loud snorting, and on they go! Whoever may lie in the mid-career— Be it my brother or son so dear, Should his dying groan my heart divide, Yet over his body I needs must ride, Nor pitying stop to drag him aside. FIRST YAGER. True—who ever asks how another may bide? FIRST CUIRASSIER. Thus, my lads, 'tis my counsel, while On the soldier Dame Fortune deigns to smile, That we with both hands her bounty clasp, For it may not be much longer left to our grasp. Peace will be coming some over-night, And then there's an end of our martial might. The soldier unhorsed, and fresh mounted to boor, Ere you can think it 'twill be as before. As yet we're together firm bound in the land, The hilt is yet fast in the soldier's hand. But let 'em divide us, and soon we shall find, Short commons is all that remains behind. FIRST YAGER. No, no, by the Lord! That won't do for me. Come, come, lads, let's all now, as one, agree. SECOND YAGER. Yes, let us resolve on what 'tis to be. FIRST ARQUEBUSIER (To the Sutler-woman, drawing out his leather purse). Hostess, tell us how high you've scored. SUTLER-WOMAN. Oh, 'tis unworthy a single word. [They settle. TRUMPETER. You do well, sirs, to take a further walk, Your company only disturbs our talk. [Exeunt Arquebusiers. FIRST CUIRASSIER. Plague take the fellows—they're brave, I know. FIRST YAGER. They haven't a soul 'bove a soapboiler's, though. SECOND YAGER. We're now alone, so teach us who can How best we may meet and mar their plan. TRUMPETER. How? Why, let's tell them we will not go! FIRST CUIRASSIER. Despising all discipline! No, my lads, no, Rather his corps let each of us seek, And quietly then with his comrades speak, That every soldier may clearly know, It were not for his good so far to go; For my Walloons to answer I'm free, Every man of 'em thinks and acts with me. SERGEANT. The Terzky regiments, both horse and foot, Will thus resolve, and will keep them to't. SECOND CUIRASSIER (joining the first). The Walloons and the Lombards one intent. FIRST YAGER. Freedom is Yagers' own element. SECOND YAGER. Freedom must ever with might entwine— I live and will die by Wallenstein. FIRST SHARPSHOOTER. The Lorrainers go on with the strongest tide, Where spirits are light and courage tried. DRAGOON. An Irishman follows his fortune's star. SECOND SHARPSHOOTER. The Tyrolese for their sovereign war. FIRST CUIRASSIER. Then, comrades, let each of our corps agree A pro memoria to sign—that we, In spite of all force or fraud, will be To the fortunes of Friedland firmly bound, For in him is the soldier's father found. This we will humbly present, when done, To Piccolomini—I mean the son— Who understands these kind of affairs, And the Friedlander's highest favor shares; Besides, with the emperor's self, they say He holds a capital card to play. SECOND YAGER. Well, then, in this, let us all agree, That the colonel shall our spokesman be! ALL (going). Good! the colonel shall our spokesman be. SERGEANT. Hold, sirs—just toss off a glass with me To the health of Piccolomini. SUTLER-WOMAN (brings a flask). This shall not go to the list of scores, I gladly give it—success be yours! CUIRASSIER. The soldier shall sway! BOTH YAGERS. The peasant shall pay DRAGOONS and SHARPSHOOTERS. The army shall flourishing stand! TRUMPETER and SERGEANT. And the Friedlander keep the command! SECOND CUIRASSIER (sings). Arouse ye, my comrades, to horse! to horse! To the field and to freedom we guide! For there a man feels the pride of his force And there is the heart of him tried. No help to him there by another is shown, He stands for himself and himself alone. [The soldiers from the background have come forward during the singing of this verse and form the chorus. CHORUS. No help to him by another is shown, He stands for himself and himself alone. DRAGOON. Now freedom hath fled from the world, we find But lords and their bondsmen vile And nothing holds sway in the breast of mankind Save falsehood and cowardly guile. Who looks in death's face with a fearless brow, The soldier, alone, is the freeman now. CHORUS. Who looks in death's face with a fearless brow, The soldier, alone, is the freeman now. FIRST YAGER. With the troubles of life he ne'er bothers his pate, And feels neither fear nor sorrow; But boldly rides onward to meet with his fate— He may meet it to-day, or to-morrow! And, if to-morrow 'twill come, then, I say, Drain we the cup of life's joy to-day! CHORUS. And, if to-morrow 'twill come, then, I say, Drain we the cup of life's joy to-day! [The glasses are here refilled, and all drink. SERGEANT. 'Tis from heaven his jovial lot has birth; Nor needs he to strive or toil. The peasant may grope in the bowels of earth, And for treasure may greedily moil He digs and he delves through life for the pelf, And digs till he grubs out a grave for himself. CHORUS. He digs and he delves through life for the pelf, And digs till he grubs out a grave for himself. FIRST YAGER. The rider and lightning steed—a pair Of terrible guests, I ween! From the bridal-hall, as the torches glare, Unbidden they join the SCENE; Nor gold, nor wooing, his passion prove; By storm he carries the prize of love! CHORUS. Nor gold, nor wooing, his passion prove; By storm he carries the prize of love! SECOND CUIRASSIER. Why mourns the wench with so sorrowful face? Away, girl, the soldier must go! No spot on the earth is his resting-place; And your true love he never can know. Still onward driven by fate's rude wind, He nowhere may leave his peace behind. CHORUS. Still onward driven by fate's rude wind, He nowhere may leave his peace behind. FIRST YAGER. He takes the two next to him by the hand—the others do the same—and form a large semi-circle. Then rouse ye, my comrades—to horse! to horse! In battle the breast doth swell! Youth boils—the life-cup foams in its force— Up! ere time can dew dispel! And deep be the stake, as the prize is high— Who life would win, he must dare to die! CHORUS. And deep be the stake, as the prize is high— Who life would win, he must dare to die! [The curtain falls before the chorus has finished. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.