ng; to avenge him, if dead. The noble Bernhard of
Saxe-Weimar sustained and animated the enthusiasm. Having whispered to
Kniphausen that Gustavus was dead, he asked him what was to be done?
Kniphausen answered that his troops were in good order, and that retreat
was practicable; to which the fiery Duke answered that it was not a
question of retreat, but of vengeance in victory. This said, he assumed
the command, and, upon Stenbock's lieutenant-colonel hesitating to
advance when he ordered him, passed his sword through his body, and led
on to the attack three other regiments, after a few words which gave
fresh fuel to their ardor. Again the lost ground is won, the lost
batteries are recovered. Wallenstein's ammunition explodes, and seven of
his guns are captured.

Stalhanske rallies his Finlanders, drives back the Imperial cuirassiers,
and bears away the King's body--easily distinguished from the rest of
the slain by its heroic stature. But many still are the vicissitudes of
that memorable day. Pappenheim brings fresh masses and fresh courage
into the field. He is slain; content to die, since Gustavus, the foe of
the Emperor and of his faith, breathes no longer; but Piccolomini and
Tershy have inherited his spirit. The Swedes are beaten back; several
standards and royal banners are won by the Imperialists. Count Brahe is
mortally wounded; and of his division--the flower of all the army, the
brave veterans "who have been so long accustomed to conquer that they
knew not how to yield"--there remains but an inconsiderable fraction.

During all these vicissitudes the cool intrepidity of Kniphausen had
kept the second line of the centre unbroken; and when, between three and
four o'clock, the fog cleared off, and Duke Bernhard, who had expected a
very different appearance, saw it standing firm and in good order, he
raised his voice once more to renew the assault. This charge again
changed the aspect of the battle; but the mist again spreading, again
the Swedes are baffled when within a grasp of victory. The fifth and
decisive charge was made just before sunset, when the arrival of
Pappenheim's foot encouraged the Imperialists to make a final and
desperate struggle. Kniphausen's fresh troops were now brought into
action. The sharp ring of the musketry, the shouts of those full of life
and hope, stifled once more the groans of the wounded comrades, in whom
life was expiring and hope was dead. Both sides fought bravely,
admirably