ws:

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 each other, he
repeated the glad "fortune, good fortune." Suddenly, it flashed upon him
like a revelation, "Fortune," that might be the word!

Such exultant joy, such lark-like trilling, such inspiring promises
of happiness had never echoed in any word, as they now did from the
"fortune," the young lansquenet so gaily and exultantly uttered.

"Fortune, Fortune!" he exclaimed aloud, and the jester, who was lying
sleepless in his bed and could not help smiling at the lad's singing,
raised himself, saying:

"Do you like the word? Whoever understands how to seize it when it flits
by, will always float on top of everything, like fat on the soup. Rods
are cut from birches, willows, and knotted hazel-sticks-ho! ho! you know
that, already;--but, for him who has good fortune, larded cakes, rolls
and sausages grow. One bold turn of Fortune's wheel will bring him,
who has stood at the bottom, up to the top with the speed of lightning.
Brother Queer-fellow says: 'Up and down, like an avalanche.' But now
turn over and go to sleep. To-morrow will also be a Christmas-day, which
will perhaps bring you Fortune as a Christmas gift."

It seem