He dies with us .-- They--the enemy--in conquering us conquer thee! They dream of a Paradise beyond death; but where thou reignest, O Phoebus, there is bliss even on earth! They boast that they love death and hate life; and when they are the victors they will destroy lute and pipe, nay, if they could, would exterminate beauty and extinguish the sun.

This beautiful happy world they would have dark, gloomy, melancholy, hideous; thy kingdom, great Phoebus, is sunny, joyful and bright...!" Here his strength failed him; but presently he rallied once more and went on, with eager eyes: "We crave for light, for music, lutes and pipes--for perfumed flowers on careless brows--we--hold me up Herse--and thou, heal me, O Phoebus Apollo!--Hail, all hail! I thank thee--thou hast accepted much from me and hast given me all! Come, thou joy of my soul! Come in thy glorious chariot, attended by Muses and Hours! See, Orpheus, Herse--do you see Him coming ?" He pointed with a confident gesture to the distance; and his anxious eyes followed the indication of his hand; he raised himself a little by a last supreme effort; but instantly fell back; his head sank on the bosom of his faithful partner and a stream of blood flowed from his quivering lips.

The votary of the Muses was dead; and a few minutes after Orpheus, too, fell senseless.
War-cries and trumpet-calls rang and echoed through the Serapeum.

The battle was now a hand-to-hand fight; the besiegers had surmounted the barricade and stood face to face with the heathen.

Herse saw them coming; she snatched the dart from her husband's wound, and fired by hatred and a wild thirst for vengeance, she rushed upon the besiegers with frantic and helpless fury, cursing them loudly.