Korner received the first blow, which he was not prepared to parry, as he approached close to the enemy's commanding officer to deliver his message without drawing his sabre, and was thus severely wounded in the head: the second blow only inflicted a slight injury. He fell back, but speedily recovered himself, and his spirited steed bore him in safety to a neighbouring wood. He was here occupied, at the first moment, with the assistance of a comrade, in binding up his wounds, when he perceived a troop of the enemy, who were in pursuit, riding towards him. His presence of mind did not forsake him, but turning towards the wood, he called with a loud voice, "Fourth squadron,--Advance!"--His stratagem succeeded--the enemy were appalled, drew back, and thus afforded him time to conceal himself deeper in the wood. It had now become dark, and he found a place in the thicket where he could remain undiscovered. The pain of the deeper wound became very severe, his strength was exhausted, and his last hope was gone. It was in this extremity that he composed the beautiful sonnet, of which the following is a translation:-- FAREWELL TO LIFE. [Written in the night of the 17th and 18th of June, as I lay, severely wounded and helpless in a wood, expecting to die.] "My deep wound burns;--my pale lips quake in death,-- I feel my fainting heart resign its strife, And reaching now the limit of my life, Lord, to thy will I yield my parting breath! Yet many a dream hath charm'd my youthful eye; And must life's fairy visions all depart; Oh surely no! for all that fired my heart To rapture here, shall live with me on high. And that fair form that won my earliest vow, That my young spirit prized all else above, And now adored as freedom, now as love, Stands in seraphic guise, before me now. And as my fading senses fade away, It beckons me, on high, to realms of endless day!"