THE WINE-MONTH shone in its golden prime, | |
| And the red grapes clustering hung, | |
| But a deeper sound through the Switzer’s clime, | |
| Than the vintage music, rung,— | |
| A sound through vaulted cave, | 5 |
| A sound through echoing glen, | |
| Like the hollow swell of a rushing wave; | |
| ’T was the tread of steel-girt men. | |
| |
| And a trumpet, pealing wild and far, | |
| Midst the ancient rocks was blown, | 10 |
| Till the Alps replied to that voice of war | |
| With a thousand of their own. | |
| And through the forest glooms | |
| Flashed helmets to the day, | |
| And the winds were tossing knightly plumes, | 15 |
| Like the larch-boughs in their play. | |
| |
| In Hasli’s wilds there was gleaming steel, | |
| As the host of the Austrian passed; | |
| And the Schreckhorn’s rocks, with a savage peal, | |
| Made mirth of his clarion’s blast. | 20 |
| Up midst the Righi snows | |
| The stormy march was heard, | |
| With the charger’s tramp, whence fire-sparks rose, | |
| And the leader’s gathering word. | |
| |
| But a band, the noblest band of all, | 25 |
| Through the rude Morgarten strait, | |
| With blazoned streamers and lances tall, | |
| Moved onwards, in princely state. | |
| They came with heavy chains | |
| For the race despised so long,— | 30 |
| But amidst his Alp-domains | |
| The herdsman’s arm is strong! | |
| |
| The sun was reddening the clouds of morn | |
| When they entered the rock-defile, | |
| And shrill as a joyous hunter’s horn | 35 |
| Their bugles rung the while. | |
| But on the misty height, | |
| Where the mountain-people stood, | |
| There was stillness, as of night, | |
| When storms at distance brood. | 40 |
| |
| There was stillness, as of deep dead night, | |
| And a pause,—but not of fear, | |
| While the Switzers gazed on the gathering might | |
| Of the hostile shield and spear. | |
| On wound those columns bright | 45 |
| Between the lake and wood, | |
| But they looked not to the misty height | |
| Where the mountain-people stood. | |
| |
| The pass was filled with their serried power, | |
| All helmed and mail-arrayed, | 50 |
| And their steps had sounds like a thunder-shower | |
| In the rustling forest-shade. | |
| There were prince and crested knight, | |
| Hemmed in by cliff and flood, | |
| When a shout arose from the misty height | 55 |
| Where the mountain-people stood. | |
| |
| And the mighty rocks came bounding down, | |
| Their startled foes among, | |
| With a joyous whirl from the summit thrown,— | |
| O, the herdsman’s arm is strong! | 60 |
| They came, like lauwine hurled | |
| From Alp to Alp in play, | |
| When the echoes shout through the snowy world, | |
| And the pines are borne away. | |
| |
| The fir-woods crashed on the mountain-side, | 65 |
| And the Switzers rushed from high, | |
| With a sudden charge, on the flower and pride | |
| Of the Austrian chivalry: | |
| Like hunters of the deer, | |
| They stormed the narrow dell, | 70 |
| And first in the shock, with Uri’s spear, | |
| Was the arm of William Tell. | |
| |
| There was tumult in the crowded strait, | |
| And a cry of wild dismay, | |
| And many a warrior met his fate | 75 |
| From a peasant’s hand that day! | |
| And the empire’s banner then, | |
| From its place of waving free, | |
| Went down before the shepherd-men, | |
| The men of the forest-sea. | 80 |
| |
| With their pikes and massy clubs they brake | |
| The cuirass and the shield, | |
| And the war-horse dashed to the reddening lake, | |
| From the reapers of the field! | |
| The field,—but not of sheaves,— | 85 |
| Proud crests and pennons lay | |
| Strewn o’er it thick as the birch-wood leaves | |
| In the autumn-tempest’s way. | |
| |
| Oh, the sun in heaven fierce havoc viewed, | |
| When the Austrian turned to fly, | 90 |
| And the brave, in the trampling multitude, | |
| Had a fearful death to die! | |
| And the leader of the war | |
| At eve unhelmed was seen, | |
| With a hurrying step on the wilds afar, | 95 |
| And a pale and troubled mien. | |
| |
| But the sons of the land which the freeman tills | |
| Went back from the battle-toil | |
| To their cabin-homes midst the deep green hills, | |
| All burdened with royal spoil. | 100 |
| There were songs and festal fires | |
| On the soaring Alps that night, | |
| When children sprung to greet their sires, | |
| From the wild Morgarten fight. | |
| |
