to be the first one put down on the muster-roll, he distinctly heard the
provost oppose the clerk's scruples, saying warmly "write, write; I'd
rather have him with one hand, than ten peevish fellows with two. He has
fun and life in him. Advance him some money too, he probably lacks many a
piece of armor."

Meantime the wine-cask must have been opened, for the clink of glasses,
and soon after loud singing was audible.

Just as the second song began, the boy fell asleep, but woke again two
hours after, roused by the stillness that had suddenly succeeded the
uproar.

Hans Eitelfritz had declared himself ready to give a new song in his best
vein, and the provost commanded silence.

The singing now began; during its continuance Ulrich raised himself
higher and higher in bed, not a word escaped him, either of the song
itself, or the chorus, which was repeated by the whole party, with
exuberant gayety, amid the loud clinking of goblets. Never before had the
lad heard such bold, joyous voices; even at the second verse his heart
bounded and it seemed as if he must join in the tune, which he had
quickly caught. The song ran as follows:

Who, who will venture to hold me back?
Drums beat, fifes are playing a merry tune!
Down hammer, down pen, what more need I, alack
I go to seek fortune, good fortune!

Oh father, mother, dear sister mine,
Blue-eyed maid at the bridge-house, my fair one.
Weep not, ye must not at parting repine,
I go to seek fortune, good fortune!

The cannon roar loud, the sword flashes bright,
Who'll dare meet the stroke of my falchion?
Close-ranked, horse and foot in battle unite,
In war, war, dwells fortune, good fortune!

The city is taken, the booty mine;
With red gold, I'll deck--I know whom;
Pair maids' cheeks burn red, red too glows the wine,
Fortune, Paradise of good fortune!

Deep, scarlet wounds, brave breasts adorn,
Impoverished, crippled age I shun
A death of honor, 'mid glory won,
This too is good fortune, good fortune!

A soldier-lad composed this ditty
Hans Eitelfritz he, fair Colln's son,
His kindred dwell in the goodly city,
But he himself in fortune, good fortune!

"He himself in fortune, good fortune," sang Ulrich also, and while, amid
loud shouts of joy, the glasses again clinked against