Down the bridge fell rattling loudly; Far ahead went Werner rushing, Right into the crowd; ran over Just the fellow who did guide them. "When the sword gets dull, thou rascal, With my fist alone I'll kill thee." In the crowd he sees a sturdy Soldier, with a weather-beaten Face, bold and defiant-looking. He had served with Wallenstein once, And now fought for these mean peasants From mere love of strife and bloodshed. "Taste my steel now, gray old warrior," Cried young Werner, as his sword swung Whizzing through the air to strike him. But the soldier's halberd parried Werner's stroke: "Not badly done, lad! Here my answer!" Blood was dripping From young Werner's locks; his forehead Showed a deep wound from the halberd. But the one who swung it, never Gave a second stroke; his own throat, Where by armour not protected, Being cut by Werner's weapon. Three steps backward then he staggered Sinking: "Devil, stir thy fire! Hast me now!" Dead lay the soldier. Werner, thy young life guard well now! Raging were the peasants, thronging In great crowds around this handful. 'Gainst a chestnut-tree now leaning Weak, but still his life defending, Stood young Werner; round him rallied, Brave and faithful, all the servants. Save him, God! The wound is bleeding, From his hand the sword falls slowly, Dimmed his eyes are, and the enemy At his gory breast is aiming. Then--all may go well yet-- From the castle rings distinctly, As if for a charge, the trumpet; Then a shot--one falls; a volley Follows. "Onward!" so the Baron Now commands, and wildly flying Tear the peasants to the Rhine. Cheer up, Werner, friends are coming, And with them comes Margaretta! When the fight below was raging, To the terrace she ascended, And she blew--herself not knowing Why she did it--in the anguish Of her soul, the battle signal Used in the Imperial army. Which she'd learned in happy moments In the honeysuckle-arbour. It was heard by those returning With the Baron from the town-gate; And the maiden's war-cry made them Hurry quickly to the rescue Of those fighting in the garden. Woman's heart, so gentle, timid, What gave thee such courage then? "God, he lives!" she bent now softly Over him who 'neath the chestnuts There on the green sward was lying, Stroked the fair locks, lank and bloody, From his brow: "Hast fought right bravely!" Half unconscious gazed young Werner; Did he then behold a vision? Closed his eyes, and on two muskets To the castle he was borne. TWELFTH PART. YOUNG WERNER AND MARGARETTA.