!" And he
sang in a loud voice:

"Tod du suesser, fuer das Vaterland!
Suesser als der Brautgruss, als das Lallen
Auf dem Mutterschooss des ersten Kindes,
Sei mir willkommen!"

"_Willkommen_!" he cried again, and galloped more rapidly past the Dutch
soldiers, who were just emerging from a side-street and cut him off from
Alvensleben and his other followers. The enemy, commanded by the Dutch
General Carteret, was also approaching from the opposite street. The
patriot galloped into the midst of the staff--his sabre flashed, and the
general fell from his horse as if struck by lightning. Schill turned
when he was unable to penetrate through this body of men obstructing the
street. But another battalion had already formed behind him and cut him
hopelessly off from assistance. His own men tried to reach him. Shouts,
oaths, cries of defiance and fury, with the groans of the dying, rent
the air.

Schill saw that he was lost, that he was no longer able to save himself,
his faithful men, or his fatherland! There was no escape for him. Death
was howling around him on all sides, panting for its prey. Suddenly the
column of the enemy opened; he saw the gap, and spurred his horse with a
desperate effort, making him leap into the midst of the enemy. The Dutch
soldiers fell back in dismay, and Schill galloped by them into Faehr
Street. Forward, as on the wings of a tempest, he hastened to the
assistance of his men. A bullet hissed past him--another shot was fired.
He wavered in the saddle; the bullet had struck him! A detachment of
Dutch soldiers were just coming up the street. The man heading them saw
the pale Prussian officer, who was scarcely able to retain his seat.

"It is Schill! it is Schill!" he cried out, rushing forward.

"Hurrah, it is Schill!" shouted the others, aiming their muskets at him.
Three shots were fired. The brave Prussian still kept the saddle, but
his hand dropped the bridle, and the horse stood still. The Dutch
chasseurs surrounded and cut him. He lay helpless on the ground--that
herculean man. He was still alive; his eyes, that had so beamed with
courage, cast their last glance toward heaven, and his lips, that smiled
so sweetly, murmured, "_Tod du suesser fuer das Vaterland_!" A powerful
sabre-stroke at last ended his life. His enemies despoiled his body,
tearing off his decorations, and robbing him of a small crown of pearls
and the memorandum-book, both gifts of the queen whom he loved