While below contending forces
Fight, above on cloudy horses
Three Valkyres ride; their song
Through the air re-echoes long.
“Princes wrangle, nations quarrel,
“Each would bear away the laurel;
“Conquest is the highest prize,
“Highest worth in courage lies.
“No proud helmet gives protection,
“Death brings all things in subjection;
“And the hero’s blood is shed,
“And the wicked win instead.
“Laurel wreaths, triumphal arches!
On the morrow in he marches,
“Who the better one o’erthrew,
“Winning land and people too.
“Senator and burgomaster
“Go to meet the victor faster
“With the keys that ope the gate,
“And the train then enters straight.
“Cannon from the walls are crashing,
“Kettle-drums and trumpets clashing,
“Bells’ loud ringing fills the sky,
“And ‘hurrah!’ the people cry.
“On the balconies are standing
“Smiling beauteous women, handing
“To the victor flow’ry wreaths;
“He with haughty calmness breathes.”