thu', so gieb dass es gerathe wohl."

["HYMN-BOOK of Porst" (Prussian Sternhold-and-Hopkins), "p. 689:" cited
in Preuss, ii. 107.]

One has heard the voice of waters, one has paused in the mountains at
the voice of far-off Covenanter psalms; but a voice like this, breaking
the commanded silences, one has not heard. "Shall we order that to
cease, your Majesty?" "By no means," said the King; whose hard heart
seems to have been touched by it, as might well be. Indeed there is in
him, in those grim days, a tone as of trust in the Eternal, as of real
religious piety and faith, scarcely noticeable elsewhere in his History.
His religion, and he had in withered forms a good deal of it, if we
will look well, being almost always in a strictly voiceless state,--nay,
ultra-voiceless, or voiced the wrong way, as is too well known. "By
no means!" answered he: and a moment after, said to some one, Ziethen
probably: "With men like these, don't you think I shall have victory
this day!"

The loss of their Saxon Forepost proved more important to the Austrians
than it seemed;--not computable in prisoners, or killed and wounded. The
Height named Scheuberg,--"Borne Rise" (so we might call it, which has
got its Pillar of memorial since, with gilt Victory atop [Not till
1854 (Kutzen, pp. 194, 195).];--where Friedrich now is and where
the Austrians are not, is at once a screen and a point of vision to
Friedrich. By loss of their Nostitz Forepost, they had lost view of
Friedrich, and never could recover view of him; could not for hours
learn distinctly what he was about; and when he did come in sight again,
it was in a most unexpected place! On the farther side of Borne, edge of
the big expanse of open country there, Friedrich has halted; ridden with
his adjutants to the top of "the Scheuberg (Shy-HILL)," as the Books
call it, though it is more properly a blunt Knoll or "Rise,"--the
nearest of a Chain of Knolls, or swells in the ground, which runs from
north to south on that part.

Except the Zobtenberg, rising blue and massive, on the southern horizon
(famous mythologic Mountain, reminding you of an ARTHUR'S SEAT in shape
too, only bigger and solitary), this Country, for many miles round,
has nothing that could be called a Hill; it is definable as a bare
wide-waving champaign, with slight bumps on it, or slow heavings and
sinkings. Country mostly under culture, though it is of sandy quality;
one or two sluggish brooks in it; and reedy mere