my lot to know but one, Who with mighty Caesar could compare; And of yore thou called'st him thy son. None but Caesar could a Rome o'erthrow, Brutus only made great Caesar fear; Where lives Brutus, Caesar's blood must flow; If thy path lies yonder, mine is here. 

       From Wallenstein's Camp, scene 1.     

        RECRUIT'S SONG. How sweet the wild sound Of drum and of fife! To roam o'er earth's round, Lead a wandering life, With steed trained aright, And bold for the fight, With a sword by the side, To rove far and wide,—       Quick, nimble, and free As the finch that we see On bushes and trees, Or braving the breeze,—    Huzza, then! the Friedlander's banner for me! 

       From Wallenstein's Camp, scene the last.     

      SECOND CUIRASSIER sings. Up, up, my brave comrades! to horse! to horse! Let us haste to the field and to freedom! To the field, for 'tis there that is proved our hearts' force,     'Tis there that in earnest we need 'em! None other can there our places supply, Each must stand alone,—on himself must rely. CHORUS. None other can there our places supply, Each must stand alone,—on himself must rely. DRAGOON. Now freedom appears from the world to have flown, None but lords and their vassals one traces; While falsehood and cunning are ruling alone O'er the living cowardly races. The man who can look upon death without fear—    The soldier,—is now the sole freeman left here. CHORUS. The man who can look upon death without fear—    The soldier,—is now the sole freeman left here. FIRST YAGER. The cares of this life, he casts them away, Untroubled by fear or by sorrow; He rides to his fate with a countenance gay, And finds it to-day or to-morrow; And if 'tis to-morrow, to-day we'll employ To drink full deep of the goblet of joy, CHORUS. And if 'tis to-morrow, to-day we'll employ To drink full deep of the goblet of joy.           [They refill their glasses and drink. CAVALRY SERGEANT. The skies o'er him shower his lot filled with mirth, He gains, without toil, its full measure; The peasant, who grubs in the womb of the earth, Believes that he'll find there the treasure, Through lifetime he shovels and digs like a slave, And digs—till at length he has dug his own grave. CHORUS. Through lifetime he shovels and digs like a slave, And digs—till at length he has dug his own grave. FIRST YAGER. The horseman, as well as his swift-footed beast,     

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