Wallensteins Camp | Page 4

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SERGEANT.
Ay, that was a man with the fear of God.
FIRST YAGER.
Girls he detested; and what's rather odd,
If caught
with a wench you in wedlock were tacked,--
I could stand it no longer,
so off I packed.
SERGEANT.
Their discipline now has a trifle slacked.
FIRST YAGER.
Well, next to the League I rode over; their men

Were mustering in haste against Magdeburg then.
Ha! that was
another guess sort of a thing!
In frolic and fun we'd a glorious swing;

With gaming, and drinking, and girls at call,
I'faith, sirs, our sport
was by no means small.
For Tilly knew how to command, that's plain;

He held himself in but gave us the rein;
And, long as he hadn't the
bother of paying,
"Live and let live!" was the general's saying.
But
fortune soon gave him the slip; and ne'er
Since the day of that
villanous Leipzig affair
Would aught go aright. 'Twas of little avail

That we tried, for our plans were sure to fail.
If now we drew nigh

and rapped at the door,
No greeting awaited, 'twas opened no more;

From place to place we went sneaking about,
And found that their
stock of respect was out;
Then touched I the Saxon bounty, and
thought
Their service with fortune must needs be fraught.
SERGEANT.
You joined them then just in the nick to share

Bohemia's plunder?
FIRST YAGER.
I'd small luck there.
Strict discipline sternly ruled the day,
Nor
dared we a foeman's force display;
They set us to guard the imperial
forts,
And plagued us all with the farce of the courts.
War they
waged as a jest 'twere thought--
And but half a heart to the business
brought,
They would break with none; and thus 'twas plain
Small
honor among them could a soldier gain.
So heartily sick in the end
grew I
That my mind was the desk again to try;
When suddenly,
rattling near and far,
The Friedlander's drum was heard to war.
SERGEANT.
And how long here may you mean to stay?
FIRST YAGER.
You jest, man. So long as he bears the sway,
By
my soul! not a thought of change have I;
Where better than here
could the soldier lie?
Here the true fashion of war is found,
And the
cut of power's on all things round;
While the spirit whereby the
movement's given
Mightily stirs, like the winds of heaven,
The
meanest trooper in all the throng.
With a hearty step shall I tramp
along
On a burgher's neck as undaunted tread
As our general does
on the prince's head.
As 'twas in the times of old 'tis now,
The
sword is the sceptre, and all must bow.
One crime alone can I
understand,
And that's to oppose the word of command.
What's not
forbidden to do make bold,
And none will ask you what creed you
hold.

Of just two things in this world I wot,
What belongs to the
army and what does not,
To the banner alone is my service brought.

SERGEANT.
Thus, Yager, I like thee--thou speakest, I vow,
With
the tone of a Friedland trooper now.
FIRST YAGER.
'Tis not as an office he holds command,
Or a
power received from the emperor's hand;
For the emperor's service
what should he care,
What better for him does the emperor fare?

With the mighty power he wields at will,
Has ever he sheltered the
land from ill?
No; a soldier-kingdom he seeks to raise,
And for this
would set the world in a blaze,
Daring to risk and to compass all--
TRUMPETER.
Hush--who shall such words as these let fall?
FIRST YAGER.
Whatever I think may be said by me,
For the
general tells us the word is free.
SERGEANT.
True--that he said so I fully agree,
I was standing by.
"The word is free--
The deed is dumb--obedience blind!"
His very
words I can call to mind.
FIRST YAGER.
I know not if these were his words or no,
But he
said the thing, and 'tis even so.
SECOND YAGER.
Victory ne'er will his flag forsake,
Though
she's apt from others a turn to take:
Old Tilly outlived his fame's
decline,
But under the banner of Wallenstein,
There am I certain
that victory's mine!
Fortune is spell-bound to him, and must yield;

Whoe'er under Friedland shall take the field
Is sure of a supernatural
shield:
For, as all the world is aware full well,
The duke has a devil
in hire from hell.
SERGEANT.
In truth that he's charmed is past a doubt,
For we
know how, at Luetzen's bloody affair,
Where firing was thickest he
still was there,
As coolly as might be, sirs, riding about.
The hat on
his head was shot thro' and thro',
In coat and boots the bullets that
flew
Left traces full clear to all men's view;

But none got so far as

to scratch off his skin,
For the ointment of hell was too well rubbed
in.
FIRST YAGER.
What wonders so strange can you all see there?

An elk-skin jacket he happens to wear,
And through it the bullets can
make no way.
SERGEANT.
'Tis an ointment of witches' herbs, I say,
Kneaded
and cooked by unholy spell.
TRUMPETER.
No doubt 'tis the work of the powers of hell.
SERGEANT.
That he reads in the stars we also hear,
Where the
future he sees--distant or near--
But I know better the truth