"And I—what shall I do?" asked the old invalid, when he was alone. "I must swallow my tears, and tell no one my thoughts. I shall quietly accustom myself to the idea that the darling of my heart, my Leonora, is to leave me, and that my old eyes are to see no more her dear face, or my ears hear her voice. Ah, when she looked at me, I felt as though it were spring in my heart, and the sun shining there; and when I heard her voice I thought it music rejoicing my soul. Now, how quiet and gloomy all around me will be in the small house—no more sunshine or music! all will be gone when Leonora is gone. And will she come back, then?—will not some bullet, some sword-blade—hush, my thoughts! I must not betray them! Be still, my heart, and weep! Be still and—" Tears choked his voice, and the strong man, overwhelmed with grief, sank into his easy-chair and sobbed aloud. After a long time he raised himself again and dried his tears. "Fie, Sergeant Prohaska!" he said aloud. "You sit here and cry like an old woman, and wring your hands in grief, instead of being glad and thanking the Lord that a substitute has been found for the invalid sergeant with the wooden leg. Thunder and lightning, Sergeant Prohaska! I advise you to behave yourself, and not be weak and foolish, while women are becoming men. Keep your head erect, turn your eyes on the enemy, and then, 'Charge them!' as old father Blucher used to say. I will go to work now," he continued, drawing a deep breath, after repeatedly pacing the small room with measured steps. "Yes, I will go to work, and that no one may discover that I have wept, I will sing a beautiful song I learned yesterday from a volunteer. Yes, I will work and sing!" He hastened to the chamber adjoining the sitting-room, and brought from it a neat half-finished basket upon which he had been at work the day before. "It must be finished to-day; I have promised it," he said, sitting down on his old easy-chair. He then commenced working assiduously, and sang in a powerful voice:
"Nun mit Gott! Es ist beschlossen!
Auf, Ihr wackern Streitgenossen,
Endlich kommt der Ehrentag!
Besser flugs und f rohlich sterben,
Als so langsam bin verderben,
Und versiechen in der Schmach."
"Endlich darf das Herz sich regen,
Sich die Zunge frei bewegen,
Alle Fesseln sind eutzwei.
Ach, da Alles schier zerstoben,
Kam der Retterarm from oben,
Neugeboren sind wir, fred!"
"Tag der Freiheit, Tag der Wonne!
Bruder, seht! es tanzt die Sonne,
Wie am ersten Ostertag!
Todte sprengen ihre Grufte,
Und durch Berg und Thai und Klufte
Hallt ein freudig Jauchzen nach!"
"Auferstanden, auferstanden
Aus der Knechtschaft Todesbanden,
Streiter Gottes, nun zu Hauf!
Unsre Adler! Ha sie wittern
Ihrer Raub—die Feinde zittern,
Unsre Adler fahren auf!"
"Zu den Waff en, zu den Rossen,
Auf, Ihr wackern Kampfgenossen
Er ist da, Der Ehrentag!
Besser flugs und frohlich sterben,
Als so langsam hin verderben,
Und versiechen in der Schmach!"
[Footnote:
It is resolved in God's great name!
Up, comrades! to the field of fame!
This day of glory save.
Quickly and merrily to die
Is better than the sick-bed sigh,
And an unhonored grave.
Our heart at last resumes its life—
Our tongues now urge to holy strife;
The broken chains we see.
When all seemed lost, a saving hand
From heaven vouchsafes to bless our land,
And make us strong and free.
O happy day! The sun new-born
Is dancing as on Easter morn!
See, risen brothers, see!
"We come from slavery's grave unbound,
And mountains and the vales resound
With songs of jubilee.