sly upon
the Swedish ranks, which, exhausted by victory, and inferior in numbers,
were, after a noble resistance, overpowered by this fresh body of
enemies. Pappenheim's unexpected appearance revived the drooping
courage of the Imperialists, and the Duke of Friedland quickly availed
himself of the favourable moment to re-form his line. The closely
serried battalions of the Swedes were, after a tremendous conflict,
again driven across the trenches; and the battery, which had been twice
lost, again rescued from their hands. The whole yellow regiment, the
finest of all that distinguished themselves in this dreadful day, lay
dead on the field, covering the ground almost in the same excellent
order which, when alive, they maintained with such unyielding courage.
The same fate befel 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 distressed, 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 expressed 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