TRUMPETER.
Ay! Ay!

SERGEANT.
The big-wig from Vienna, I trow,
Who since yesterday's seen to prowl about
In his golden chain of office there--
Something's at the bottom of this, I'll swear.

TRUMPETER.
A bloodhound is he beyond a doubt,
By whom the duke's to be hunted out.

SERGEANT.
Mark ye well, man!--they doubt us now,
And they fear the duke's mysterious brow;
He hath clomb too high for them, and fain
Would they beat him down from his perch again.

TRUMPETER.
But we will hold him still on high--
That all would think as you and I!

SERGEANT.
Our regiment, and the other four
Which Terzky leads--the bravest corps
Throughout the camp, are the General's own,
And have been trained to the trade by himself alone
The officers hold their command of him,