Then the trumpets and horns flared out the
grand old hymn of student life, the 'Gaudeamus igitur, juvenes dum
sumus,' and all those fresh young voices took up the strain with that
perfect unison which only Germans know how to give to an improvised
chorus--
Gaudeamus igitur, juvenes dum sumus, post jucundam juventutem,
post molestam senectutem, nos habebit humus, nos habebit humus.
Ubi sunt, qui ante nos in mundo fuere? Vadite ad superos, transits ad
inferos, ubi jam fuere.
Vita nostra brevis est, brevi finietur, venit mors velociter, rapit
nos atrociter, nemini parcetur.
Vivant omnes virgines faciles, formosae, vivant et mulieres, vivant
et mulieres bonae, laboriosae.
Vivat academia, vivant professores, vivat membrum quodlibet, vivant
membra quaelibet, semper sint in flore.
As the last stanza was sung, in slow and solemn measure, the students
began to throw away their torches. First one alone shot out from the
belt of fire that surrounded the square, meteorlike in a wide arch, and
fell in the centre of the open space amidst a shower of sparks. A dozen
followed almost immediately, then a hundred, and hundreds more, till
all the thousand lay together, a burning heap, throwing up clouds of
lurid smoke into the night, and illuminating the great buildings with a
broad red glare. Greif stood still a moment, watching the bonfire,
and then sheathed his rapier and turned away. To him it was a sorrowful
sight, this ending of his last torchlight procession.
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