The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 137

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 s.h.i.+ne-- 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 ma.s.s.

FIRST YAGER.

And you, I suppose, are a separate cla.s.s!

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 t.i.tle 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 read.

SERGEANT.

Ay, that was a man with the fear of G.o.d.