The Works of Frederick Schiller

Chapter 249

Chapter 24995 wordsPublic domain

THEKLA. His spirit 'tis that calls me: 'tis the troop Of his true followers, who offered up Themselves to avenge his death: and they accuse me Of an ignoble loitering--they would not Forsake their leader even in his death; they died for him, And shall I live? For me too was that laurel garland twined That decks his bier. Life is an empty casket: I throw it from me. Oh, my only hope; To die beneath the hoofs of trampling steeds-- That is a lot of heroes upon earth!

[Exit THEKLA. [10]

(The Curtain drops.)