And the Prussian fire of small arms, at such rate, has lasted now for five hours.

The Austrian Army, becoming instead of a web a mere series of flying tatters, forming into stripes or lanes in the way we see, appears to have had about enough.
These symptoms are not hidden from Schwerin.

His own ammunition, too, he knows is running scarce, and fighters here and there are searching the slain for cartridges:--Schwerin closes his ranks, trims and tightens himself a little; breaks forth into universal field-music, and with banners spread, starts in mass wholly, "Forwards!" Forwards towards these Austrians and the setting sun.
An intelligent Austrian Officer, writing next week from Neisse, [_Feldzuge der Preussen_ (above cited), i.

38.]' confesses he never saw anything more beautiful.

"I can well say, I never in my life saw anything more beautiful.