text:  "Ho--ho"--thought he--"ye rogues beware Nor you nor I forget-- For by my father's beard I swear Your blood shall wash the blot I bear And Ulrick pay you yet!" Soon came the hour! with steeds and men The battle-field was gay; Steel closed in steel at Duffingen-- And joyous was our stripling then And joyous the hurra! "The battle lost" our battle-cry; The foe once more advances: As some fierce whirlwind cleaves the sky We skirr through blood and slaughter by Amidst a night of lances! On lion-like grim Ulrick sweeps-- Bright shines his hero-glaive-- Her chase before him Fury keeps Far-heard behind him Anguish weeps And round him--is the Grave! Woe--woe! it gleams--the sabre-blow-- Swift-sheering down it sped-- Around brave hearts the buckler throw-- Alas! our boast in dust is low! Count Eberhard's boy is dead! Grief checks the rushing Victor-van-- Fierce eyes strange moisture know-- On rides old Eberhard stern and wan "My son is like another man-- March children on the Foe!" And fiery lances whirr'd around Revenge at least undying-- Above the blood-red clay we bound-- Hurrah! the burghers break their ground Through vale and woodland flying! Back to the camp behold us throng Flags stream and bugles play-- Woman and child with choral song And men with dance and wine prolong The warrior's holyday