The great array of the nobles caused the rear ranks of the
Bernese to shrink. "Good!" cried Erlach, "the chaff is separated from
the wheat! Cowards will not share the victory of the brave."
--Zschokke's _History of Switzerland_, p. 48, Shaw's translation.]
Perhaps they all will change their mind,
So, brothers, do not waver!
Kyrie eleison!
Pidi, Pom, Pom, Pom,
Alarum beat,
There's no retreat;
Wilt soon be slashed,
Be pierced and gashed:
But none of these things heeding,
The foe, too, set a-bleeding.
Many good surgeons have we here,
Again to heal us ready;
With God's help, then, be of good cheer,
The Pagans grow unsteady:
Let not thy courage sink before
A foe already flying;
Revenge itself shall give thee more,
And hearten it, if dying.
Drom, Drari, Drom,
Kyrie eleison!
Strike, thrust,--for we
Must victors be;
Let none fall out,
Keep order stout;
Close to my side,
Comrade, abide!
Be grace of God revealed now,
And help us hold the field now!
God doth Himself encamp us round,
Himself the tight inspiring;
The foe no longer stands his ground,
On every side retiring;
Ye brothers, now set boldly on
The hostile ranks!--they waver,--
They break before us and are gone,--
Praise be to God the Saver!
Drom, Drari, Drom,
Come, brother, come!
Drums, make a noise!
My troops, rejoice!
Help now pursue
And thrust and hew;
Pillage restrain,--
The spoils remain
In reach of every finger,
But not a foe wilt linger.
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