Freiberg has never been besieged again; yet what the artillery and mines of the warlike foe failed to accomplish, has been brought about long since by the genial beams of golden peace.
Freiberg's strong gates and barbicans, her towers, walls, and moats, have, for the most part, passed away. Where once the cannon thundered, roses and jessamines now fill lovely gardens with their rich perfume; where the blood of Saxon burgher and Swedish trooper was once shed in savage strife, the air now rings with the laughter of happy children; and no trace is ever seen of those who fought so bravely for their beloved city more than two hundred years ago. Yet their memory will never die; it lives on through the ages, and strong and pure, like Freiberg's native silver, shall endure the story of their faithfulness to prince and fatherland.