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When spear-heads light the lakes,

When trumpets loose the snows,
When the rushing war-steed shakes

The glacier's mute repose;

When Uri's beechen woods wave red

In the burning hamlet's light ;-
Then from the cavern of the dead,
Shall the sleepers wake in might!

With a leap, like Tell's proud leap,

When away the helm he flung, *
And boldly up the steep

From the flashing billow sprung !

They shall wake beside their Forest-sea,

In the ancient garb they wore
When they link'd the hands that made us free,
On the Grütli's moonlight shore :

And their voices shall be heard,

And be answer'd with a shout,
Till the echoing Alps are stirr’d,

And the signal-fires blaze out.

* The point of rock on which Tell leaped from the boat of Gessler is marked by a chapel, and called the Tellensprung.

And the land shall see such deeds again

As those of that proud day,
When Winkelried, on Sempach's plain,
Through the serried spears made way ;

And when the rocks came down

On the dark Morgarten dell,
And the crowned casques,* o'erthrown,

Before our fathers fell !

For the Kühreihen’s f notes must never sound

In a land that wears the chain,
And the vines on freedom's holy ground
Untrampled must remain !

And the yellow harvests wave

For no stranger's hand to reap,
While within their silent cave

The men of Grütli sleep!

* Crowned helmets, as a distinction of rank, are mentioned in Simond's Switzerland.

† The Kühreihen, the celebrated Ranz des Vaches.

SWISS SONG,

ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF AN ANCIENT BATTLE.

The Swiss, even to our days, have continued to celebrate the anniversaries of their ancient battles with much solemnity; assembling in the open air on the fields where their ancestors fought, to hear thanksgivings offered up by the priests, and the names of all who shared in the glory of the day enumerated. They afterwards walk in procession to chapels, always erected in the vicinity of such scenes, where masses are sung for the souls of the departed. See Planta's History of the Helvetic Confederacy.

Look on the white Alps round!

If yet they gird a land
Where freedom's voice and step are found,

Forget ye not the band,
The faithful band, our sires, who fell
Here, in the narrow battle-dell !

If yet, the wilds among,

Our silent hearts may burn,
When the deep mountain-horn hath rung,

And home our steps may turn,
-Home !-home!--if still that name be dear,
Praise to the men who perish'd here !

Look on the white Alps round !

Up to their shining snows
That day the stormy rolling sound,

The sound of battle rose !
Their caves prolong’d the trumpet's blast,
Their dark pines trembled as it pass’d !

They saw the princely crest,

They saw the knightly spea ,
The banner and the mail-clad breast

Borne down, and trampled here !
They saw—and glorying there they stand,
Eternal records to the land !

Praise to the mountain-born,

The brethren of the glen!
By them no steel-array was worn,

They stood as peasant-men!
They left the vineyard and the field
To break an empire's lance and shield !

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Look on the white Alps round!

If yet, along their steeps,

Our children's fearless feet may bound, ,

Free as the chamois leaps : Teach them in song to bless the band Amidst whose mossy graves we stand !

If, by the wood-fire's blaze,

When winter-stars gleam cold,
The glorious tales of elder days

May proudly yet be told,
Forget not then the shepherd-race,
Who made the hearth a holy place!

Look on the white Alps round !

If yet the sabbath bell Comes o'er them with a gladdening sound,

Think on the battle-dell ! For blood first bathed its flowery sod, That chainless hearts might worship God !

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