Napoleon and the Queen of Prussia | Page 9

that has resisted and braved the Corsican conqueror. But God wanted first to arouse her from her arrogance and vanity, and make the weakness of her leading men known to her, that she might rise after a noble regeneration and with redoubled strength. Life springs from death, and Prussia had to fall so low as to break her old decrepit limbs that were still kept together by her glory from the Seven Years' War; and then the young, vigorous soldier of the new century will arise and draw the sword to deliver his subjugated country, and avenge its desecrated honor!"
"Then you hope still for a change for the better?" asked Count P��ckler, mournfully.
"I base my hopes on the propitious star of Prussia," exclaimed Schill, enthusiastically, "on the future, on the wrath and grief which will awake now in all Prussian hearts, arousing the sluggards, strengthening the vacillating, and urging the timid. I base my hopes on the tears of Queen Louisa, which will move Heaven to help us and awaken avengers on earth. And, for ourselves, comrade, with our wounds, with our disgrace, we must be like the spirits of vengeance that sweep across the heath in the howling storm of diversity, and awaken the sleeper who would give way to dreams of peace and inaction. Prussia must not make peace in her present calamitous condition; she must fill the hearts and minds of all with longings for war, till the whole nation arises in its rage and expels the enemy from the country! My friend, we have now witnessed the downfall of Prussia, but henceforth we must exert ourselves in order to witness also her regeneration. We ourselves must be the--"
"Hush!" said P��ckler, hastily. "Just look there, and then take your sabre."
They were now near a field-path leading to a small wood which a slender youth had just left, and was hastily approaching them. As yet, however, he was so far from them that they were unable to distinguish his features or his dress, and to discern whether he was an armed soldier or a peaceable wanderer.
"It is, doubtless, a French soldier, and his comrades are lying in ambush," murmured P��ckler, placing his hand on his sword.
"If he wants to attack us, he had better say his death-prayers," said Schill, calmly. "There are two of us, and each has one uninjured arm."
The youth had meanwhile drawn nearer, and they saw that he did not wear any uniform.
"He is very young," said P��ckler, "and a civilian. He has apparently not yet seen us. That bush yonder is concealing us from his eyes. Let us stoop a little, and, as the path lies beyond, he may pass by without noticing us."
They knelt down behind the bush, but, while doing so, took their swords, and prepared for an attack. Then they held their breath and listened.
Profound silence reigned around, and nothing was to be heard but the quick steps of the wanderer, who drew nearer and nearer. Suddenly this silence was interrupted by a fresh and youthful voice, singing the air of a popular song.
"Ah, he sings," murmured Schill. "He who can sing to-day, must be very harmless, and it is not worth while to kill him."
"Hush! hush! let us listen to his song. He is now singing words to the melody. Just listen!"
The voice resounded nearer and nearer to the two listeners, and they could understand the words he was singing:
O Hermann! for thy country's fall No tears! Where vanquished valor bled The victor rules, and Slavery's pall, Upon these hills and vales is spread. Shame burns within me, for the brave Lie mouldering in the freeman's grave.
No voice! where sturdy Luther spoke Fearless for men who dared be free! O would that Heaven's thunder woke My people for their liberty! Must heroes fight and die in vain?-- Ye cowards! grasp your swords again!
Revenge! revenge! a gory shroud To tyrants, and the slaves that yield' Eternal honor calls aloud For courage in the battle-field. Who loves or fears a conquered land That bows beneath the despot's hand?
And whither flee? Where Winkelried And Tell and Ruyter bravely broke Oppression's power--their country freed-- All--all beneath the usurper's yoke! From Alpine fountains to the sea The patriot dead alone are free.
My people! in this sorrowing night, The clanking of your chains may be The sign of vengeance, and the fight Of former times the world may see, When Hermann in that storied day As a wild torrent cleft his way.
No idle song, O youth! thy boast. In self-born virtue be as one Who is himself a mighty host By whose sole arm is victory won. No blazoned monument so grand As death for the dear Fatherland.
To die! how welcome to the brave! The tomb awakes no coward fear Save to the wretched, trembling slave