FIRST CUIRASSIER.

Plague take the fellows-they're brave, I know.

FIRST YAGER.

They hav'n't a soul 'bove a soapboiler's though.

SECOND YAGER.

We're now alone, so teach us who can
How best we may meet and mar their plan.

TRUMPETER.

How? Why, let's tell 'em we will not go !

FIRST CUIRASSIER.

Despising all discipline! no, my lads, no.
Rather his corps let each of us seek,
And quietly then with his comrades speak,
That every soldier may clearly know,
It were not for his good so far to go;
For my Walloons to answer I'm free,
Every man of 'em thinks and acts with me.

SERGEANT.

The Terzky regiments, both horse and foot,
Will thus resolve, and will keep them to't.

SECOND CUIRASSIER (joining the first). The Walloons and the Lombards, one intent.

FIRST YAGER.

Freedom is Yagers' own element.

SECOND YAGER.

Freedom must ever with might entwine-
I live and will die by Wallenstein.

FIRST SHARPSHOOTER.

The Lorrainers go on with the strongest tide, Where spirits are light and courage tried.

DRAGOON.

An Irishman follows his fortunes star.

SECOND SHARPSHOOTER.

The Tyrolese for their sovereign war.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.

Then, comrades, let each of our corps agree

A pro memoria to sign-that we,

In spite of all force or fraud, will be

To the fortunes of Friedland firmly bound.
For in him is the soldier's father found.
This we will humbly present, when done,
To Piccolomini-I mean the son-
Who understands these kind of affairs,
And the Friedlander's highest favour shares;
Besides, with the Emperor's self, they say
He holds a capital card to play.

SECOND YAGER.

Well, then, in this, let us all agree,
That the Colonel shall our spokesman be!
ALL (going).

Good! the Colonel shall our spokesman be.

SERGEANT.

Hold, sirs-just toss off a glass with me
To the health of Piccolomini.

SUTLER-WOMAN (brings a flask).
This shall not go to the list of scores,
I gladly give it-success be yours!

CUIRASSIER.

The soldier shall sway !

BOTH YAGERS.

The peasant shall pay !

DRAGOONS and SHARPSHOOTERS.

The army shall flourishing stand!

TRUMPETER and SERGEANT.

And the Friedlander keep the command!
SECOND CUIRASSIER (sings).
Arouse ye, my comrades, to horse! to horse!
To the field and to freedom we guide !
For there a man feels the pride of his force,
And there is the heart of him tried.

No help to him there by another is shown,
He stands for himself and himself alone.

[The Soldiers from the back ground have come forward during the singing of this verse, and form the chorus.

Chorus.

No help to him there by another is shown,

He stands for himself and himself alone.

DRAGOON.

Now freedom hath fled from the world, we find
But lords and their bondsmen vile:

And nothing holds sway in the breast of mankind
Save falsehood and cowardly guile.

Who looks in death's face with a fearless brow,
The soldier, alone, is the freeman now.

Chorus.

Who looks in death's face with a fearless brow,
The soldier, alone, is the freeman now.

FIRST YAGER.

With the troubles of life he ne'er bothers his pate,
And feels neither fear nor sorrow;

But boldly rides onward to meet with his fate-
He may meet it to-day, or to-morrow!
And, if to-morrow 'twill come, then, I say,
Drain we the cup of life's joy to-day!

Chorus.

And, if to-morrow 'twill come, then, I say,
Drain we the
cup of life's joy to-day!

[The glasses are here refilled, and all drink.

SERGEANT.

"Tis from heaven his jovial lot has birth;

Nor needs he to strive or toil.

The peasant may grope in the bowels of earth,
And for treasure may greedily moil:

He digs and he delves through life for the pelf,
And digs till he grubs out a grave for himself.
Chorus.

He digs and he delves through life for the pelf,
And digs till he grubs out a grave for himself.

FIRST YAGER.

The rider and lightning steed-a pair
Of terrible guests. I ween!

From the bridal-hall as the torches glare,
Unbidden they join the scene:

Nor gold, nor wooing, his passion prove;
By storm he carries the prize of love!
Chorus.

Nor gold, nor wooing, his passion prove;
By storm he carries the prize of love!

SECOND CUIRASSIER.

Why mourns the wench with so sorrowful face?
Away, girl, the soldier must go!
No spot on the earth is his resting-place;
And your true love he never can know.
Still onward driven by fate's rude wind,
He nowhere may leave his peace behind.
Chorus.

Still onward driven by fate's rude wind,
He nowhere may leave his peace behind.

FIRST YAGER.

He takes the two next to him by the hand-the others do the same-and form a large semicircle.

Then rouse ye, my comrades-to horse! to horse!
In battle the breast doth swell!

Youth boils-the life cup foams in its force

Up! ere time can the dew dispel!

And deep be the stake, as the prize is high

Who life would win, he must dare to die!

Chorus.

And deep be the stake, as the prize is high

Who life would win, he must dare to die!

[The Curtain falls before the Chorus has finished.

THE PICCOLOMINI.

PREFACE.

THE two Dramas,-PICCOLOMINI, or the first part of WAT.LENSTEIN, and the DEATH of WALLENSTEIN, are introduced in the original manuscript by a Prelude in one Act, entitled WALLENSTEIN'S CAMP. This is written in rhyme, and in nine-syllable verse, in the same lilting metre (if that expression may be permitted) with the second Eclogue of Spenser's Shepherd's Calendar.

This prelude possesses a sort of broad humour, and is not deficient in character: but to have translated it into prose, or into any other metre than that of the original, would have given a false idea both of its style and purport; to have translated it into the same metre would have been incompatible with a faithful adherence to the sense of the German, from the comparative poverty of our language in rhymes; and it would have been unadvisable, from the incongruity of those lax verses with the present taste of the English public. Schiller's intention seems to have been merely to have prepared his reader for the Tragedies by a lively picture of laxity of discipline, and the mutinous dispositions of Wallenstein's soldiery. It is not necessary as a preliminary explanation. For these reasons it has been thought expedient not to translate it.

The admirers of Schiller, who have abstracted their idea of that author from the Robbers, and the Cabal and Love, plays in which the main interest is produced by the excitement of curiosity, and in which the curiosity is excited by terrible and extraordinary incident, will not have perused without some portion of disappointment the Dramas, which it has been my employment to translate. They should, however, reflect that these are Historical Dramas, taken from a popular German History; that we must, therefore, judge of them in some measure with the feelings of Germans; or, by analogy, with the interest excited in us by similar Dramas in our own language. Few, I trust, would be rash or ignorant enough to compare Schiller with Shakspeare; yet, merely as illustration, I would say, that we should proceed

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