of drums and clarinets is drowned in universal artillery thunder.
Incessant, for they take (by order) to "swift-shooting," which is almost
of the swiftness of musketry in our Prussian practice; and from sixty
cannon, going at that rate, we may fancy some effect. The Austrian Horse
of the left wing do not like it; all the less as the Austrians, rather
short of artillery, have nothing yet to reply with.

No Cavalry can stand long there, getting shivered in that way; in such
a noise, were there nothing more. "Are we to stand here like milestones,
then, and be all shot without a stroke struck?" "Steady!" answers Romer.
But nothing can keep them steady: "To be shot like dogs (WIE HUNDE)! For
God's sake (URN GOTTES WILLEN), lead us forward, then, to have a stroke
at them!"--in tones ever more plangent, plaintively indignant; growing
ungovernable. And Romer can get no orders; Neipperg is on the extreme
right, many things still to settle there; and here is the cannon-thunder
going, and soon their very musketry will open. And--and there
is Schulenburg, for one thing, stretching himself out eastwards
(rightwards) to get hold of Hermsdorf; thinking this an opportunity for
the manoeuvre. "Forward!" cries Romer; and his thirty Squadrons, like
bottled whirlwind now at last let loose, dash upon Schulenburg's
poor ten (five of them of Schulenburg's own regiment),--who are turned
sideways too, trotting towards Hermsdorf, at the wrong moment,--and
dash them into wild ruin. That must have been a charge! That was the
beginning of hours of chaos, seemingly irretrievable, in that Prussian
right wing.

For the Prussian Horse fly wildly; and it is in vain to rally. The King
is among them; has come in hot haste, conjuring and commanding: poor
Schulenburg addresses his own regiment, "Oh, shame, shame! shall it be
told, then?" rallies his own regiment, and some others; charges fiercely
in with them again; gets a sabre-slash across the face,--does not mind
the sabre-slash, small bandaging will do;--gets a bullet through the
head (or through the heart, it is not said which); [_Helden-Geschichte,
_ i. 899.] and falls down dead; his regiment going to the winds again,
and HIS care of it and of other things concluding in this honorable
manner. Nothing can rally that right wing; or the more you rally, the
worse it fares: they are clearly no match for Romer, these Prussian
Horse. They fly along the front of their own First Line of Infantry,
they fly bet