But from the first, the matter was hopeless; Seidlitz slashing it at such a rate, and plunging through it and again through it, thrice, some say four times: so that, in the space of half an hour, this luckless cavalry was all tumbling off the ground; plunging down-hill, in full flight, across its own infantry or whatever obstacle, Seidlitz on the hips of it; and galloping madly over the horizon, towards Freiburg as it proved; and was not again heard of that day.
In about half an hour that bit of work was over; and Seidlitz, with his ranks trimmed again, had drawn himself southward a little, into the Hollow of Tageswerben, there to wait impending phenomena.

For Friedrich with the Infantry is now emerging over Janus Hill, in a highly thunderous manner,--eighteen pieces of artillery going, and "four big guns taken from the walls of Leipzig;" and there will be events anon.
It is said, Hildburghausen, at the first glimpse of Friedrich over the hill-top, whispered to Soubise, "We are lost, Royal Highness!"-- "Courage!" Soubise would answer; and both, let us hope, did their utmost in this extremely bad predicament they had got into.
Friedrich's artillery goes at a murderous rate; had come in view, over the hill-top, before Seidlitz ended,--"nothing but, the muzzles of it visible" (and the fire-torrents from it) to us poor French below.
Friedrich's lines; or rather his one line, mere tip of his left wing,--only seven battalions in it, five of them under Keith from the second or reserve line; whole centre and right wing standing "refused" in oblique rank, invisible, BEHIND the Hill,--Friedrich's line, we say, the artillery to its right, shoots out in mysterious Prussian rhythm, in echelons, in potences, obliquely down the Janus-Hill side; straight, rigid, regular as iron clock-work; and strides towards us, silent, with the lightning sleeping in it:--Friedrich has got the flank of Dauphiness, and means to keep it.

Once and again and a third time, poor Soubise, with his poor regiments much in an imbroglio, here heaped on one another, there with wide gaps, halt being so sudden,--attempts to recover the flank, and pushes out this regiment and the other, rightward, to be even with Friedrich.

But sees with despair that it cannot be; that Friedrich with his echelons, potences and mysterious Prussian resources, pulls himself out like the pieces of a prospect-glass, piece after piece, hopelessly fast and seemingly no end to them; and that the flank is lost, and that--Unhappy Generals of Dauphiness, what a phenomenon for them! A terrible Friedrich, not fled to Merseburg at all; but mounted there on the Janus Hill, as on his saddle-horse, with face quite the other way;--and for holster-pistol, has plucked out twenty-two cannon.

Clad verily in fire; Chimera-like, RIDING the Janus Hill, in that manner; left leg (or wing) of him spurning us into the abysses, right one ready to help at discretion! Hildburghausen, I will hope, does his utmost; Soubise, Broglio, for certain do.