overing the ground almost in the
same excellent order which, when alive, they maintained with such
unyielding courage. The same fate befell another regiment of Blues,
which Count Piccolomini attacked with the imperial cavalry and cut
down after a desperate contest. Seven times did this intrepid general
renew the attack; seven horses were shot under him, and he himself was
pierced with six musket-balls; yet he would not leave the field until
he was carried along in the general rout of the whole army.
Wallenstein himself was seen riding through his ranks with cool
intrepidity, amidst a shower of balls, assisting the distrest,
encouraging the valiant with praise and the wavering by his fearful
glance. Around and close by him his men were falling thick, and his
own mantle was perforated by several shots. But avenging destiny this
day protected that breast for which another weapon was reserved; on
the same field where the noble Gustavus expired, Wallenstein was not
allowed to terminate his guilty career.

Less fortunate was Pappenheim, the Telamon of the army, the bravest
soldier of Austria and the Church. An ardent desire to encounter the
King in person carried this daring leader into the thickest of the
fight, where he thought his noble opponent was most surely to be met.
Gustavus had also exprest a wish to meet his brave antagonist, but
these hostile wishes remained ungratified; death first brought
together these two great heroes. Two musket-balls pierced the breast
of Pappenheim, and his men forcibly carried him from the field. While
they were conveying him to the rear, a murmur reached him that he whom
he had sought lay dead upon the plain. When the truth of the report
was confirmed to him, his look became brighter, his dying eye sparkled
with a last gleam of joy. "Tell the Duke of Friedland," said he, "that
I lie without hope of life, but that I die happy, since I know that
the implacable enemy of my religion has fallen on the same day."

With Pappenheim the good fortune of the Imperialists departed. The
cavalry of the left wing, already beaten, and only rallied by his
exertions, no sooner missed their victorious leader than they gave up
everything for lost and abandoned the field of battle in spiritless
despair. The right field fell into the same confusion, with the
exception of a few regiments which the bravery of their colonels,
Gotz, Terzky, Colloredo, and Piccolomini, compelled to keep their
ground. The Swedish