Wallensteins Camp | Page 3

a flourishing way,
But
what have you done with the Scotchman, say,
Who once in the camp
was your constant flame?
SUTLER-WOMAN.
A villain, who tricked me clean, that same

He bolted, and took to himself whate'er
I'd managed to scrape
together, or spare,
Leaving me naught but the urchin there.
SOLDIER-BOY (springing forward).
Mother, is it my papa you
name?

FIRST YAGER.
Well, the emperor now must father this elf,
For
the army must ever recruit itself.
SCHOOLMASTER.
Forth to the school, ye rogue--d'ye hear?
FIRST YAGER.
He, too, of a narrow room has fear.
SERVANT GIRL (entering).
Aunt, they'll be off.
SUTLER-WOMAN.
I come apace.
FIRST YAGER.
What gypsy is that with the roguish face?
SUTLER-WOMAN.
My sister's child from the south, is she.
FIRST YAGER.
Ay, ay, a sweet little niece--I see.
SECOND YAGER (holding the girl).
Softly, my pretty one! stay with
me.
GIRL.
The customers wait, sir, and I must go.
[Disengages herself, and exit.
FIRST YAGER.
That maiden's a dainty morsel, I trow!
And her
aunt--by heaven! I mind me well,--
When the best of the regiment
loved her so,
To blows for her beautiful face they fell.
What
different folks one's doomed to know!
How time glows off with a
ceaseless flow!
And what sights as yet we may live to see!
(To the Sergeant and Trumpeter.)
Your health, good sirs, may we be
free,
A seat beside you here to take?
SCENE VI.

The Yagers, Sergeant, and Trumpeter.
SERGEANT.
We thank ye--and room will gladly make.
To
Bohemia welcome.
FIRST YAGER.
Snug enough here!
In the land of the foe our quarters were queer.
TRUMPETER.
You haven't the look on't--you're spruce to view.
SERGEANT.
Ay, faith, on the Saal, and in Meissen, too,
Your
praises are heard from the lips of few.
SECOND YAGER.
Tush, man! why, what the plague d'ye mean?

The Croat had swept the fields so clean,
There was little or nothing
for us to glean.
TRUMPETER.
Yet your pointed collar is clean and sightly,
And,
then, your hose that sit so tightly!
Your linen so fine, with the hat and
feather,
Make a show of smartness altogether!
(To Sergeant.)
That fortune should upon younkers shine--
While
nothing in your way comes, or mine.
SERGEANT.
But then we're the Friedlander's regiment
And, thus,
may honor and homage claim.
FIRST YAGER.
For us, now, that's no great compliment,
We, also,
bear the Friedlander's name.
SERGEANT.
True--you form part of the general mass.
FIRST YAGER.
And you, I suppose, are a separate class!
The
difference lies in the coats we wear,
And I have no wish to change
with you there.

SERGEANT.
Sir Yager, I can't but with pity melt,
When I think
how much among boors you've dwelt.
The clever knack and the
proper tone,
Are caught by the general's side alone.
FIRST YAGER.
Then the lesson is wofully thrown away,--
How
he hawks and spits, indeed, I may say
You've copied and caught in
the cleverest way;
But his spirit, his genius--oh, these I ween,
On
your guard parade are but seldom seen.
SECOND YAGER.
Why, zounds! ask for us wherever you will,

Friedland's wild hunt is our title still!
Never shaming the name, all
undaunted we go
Alike through the field of a friend, or a foe;

Through the rising stalk, or the yellow corn,
Well know they the blast
of Holk's Yager horn.
In the flash of an eye, we are far or near,

Swift as the deluge, or there or here--
As at midnight dark, when the
flames outbreak
In the silent dwelling where none awake;
Vain is
the hope in weapons or flight,
Nor order nor discipline thwart its
might.
Then struggles the maid in our sinewy arms,
But war hath no
pity, and scorns alarms.
Go, ask--I speak not with boastful tongue--

In Bareuth, Westphalia, Voigtland, where'er
Our troops have
traversed--go, ask them there--
Children and children's children long,

When hundreds and hundreds of years are o'er,
Of Holk will tell
and his Yager corps.
SERGEANT.
Why, hark! Must a soldier then be made
By driving
this riotous, roaring trade!
'Tis drilling that makes him, skill and
sense--
Perception--thought--intelligence.
FIRST YAGER.
'Tis liberty makes him! Here's a fuss!
That I
should such twaddle as this discuss.
Was it for this that I left the
school?
That the scribbling desk, and the slavish rule,
And the
narrow walls, that our spirits cramp,
Should be met with again in the
midst of the camp?
No! Idle and heedless, I'll take my way,
Hunting
for novelty every day;
Trust to the moment with dauntless mind,


And give not a glance or before or behind.
For this to the emperor I
sold my hide,
That no other care I might have to bide.
Through the
foe's fierce firing bid me ride,
Through fathomless Rhine, in his
roaring flow,
Where ev'ry third man to the devil may go,
At no bar
will you find me boggling there;
But, farther than this, 'tis my special
prayer,
That I may not be bothered with aught like care.
SERGEANT.
If this be your wish, you needn't lack it,
'Tis granted
to all with the soldier's jacket.
FIRST YAGER.
What a fuss and a bother, forsooth, was made
By
that man-tormentor, Gustavus, the Swede,
Whose camp was a church,
where prayers were said
At morning reveille and evening tattoo;

And, whenever it chanced that we frisky grew,
A sermon himself
from the saddle he'd