Midnight auroras? or the fires of war?
And ever nearer comes the light of flames,
And nearer yet the heaven’s ruddy blaze.
From Marienbourg the folk look on the road;
They see afar—grovelling through deepest snows,
Some travellers!—Konrad! And our generals!
How welcome them? Victors? or fugitive?
Where are the others? Konrad raised his hand,
And pointed further off a scattered crowd,
Alas! their very aspect told the secret!