A Library of Poetry and Song: Being Choice Selections from the Best Poets

So dense, so still, the Austrians stood,
A living wall, a human wood!
Impregnable their front appears,
All horrent with projected spears,
Whose polished points before them shine,
From flank to flank, one brilliant line,
Bright as the breakers' splendors run
Along the billows to the sun.

Opposed to these, a hovering band Contended for their native land: Peasants, whose new-found strength had broke From manly necks the ignoble yoke, And forged their fetters into swords, On equal terms to fight their lords, And what insurgent rage had gained In many a mortal fray maintained; Marshalled once more at Freedom's call, They came to conquer or to fall, Where he who conquered, he who fell, Was deemed a dead, or living Tell! Such virtue had that patriot breathed, So to the soil his soul bequeathed, That wheresoe'er his arrows flew Heroes in his own likeness grew, And warriors sprang from every sod Which his awakening footstep trod.

And now the work of life and death
Hung on the passing of a breath;
The fire of conflict burnt within,
The battle trembled to begin;
Yet, while the Austrians held their ground,
Point for attack was nowhere found,
Where'er the impatient Switzers gazed,
The unbroken line of lances blazed;
That line 't were suicide to meet,

And perish at their tyrants' feet,
How could they rest within their graves,
And leave their homes the homes of slaves?
Would they not feel their children tread
With clanging chains above their head?

It must not be this day, this hour, Annihilates the oppressor's power; All Switzerland is in the field, She will not fly, she cannot yield, She must not fall; her better fate Here gives her an immortal date. Few were the number she could boast; But every freeman was a host, And felt as though himself were he On whose sole arm hung victory.

It did depend on one indeed ; Behold him, - Arnold Winkelried ! There sounds not to the trump of fame The echo of a nobler name.

Unmarked he stood amid the throng, In rumination deep and long,

Till you might see, with sudden grace,
The very thought come o'er his face,
And by the motion of his form
Anticipate the bursting storm,
And by the uplifting of his brow
Tell where the bolt would strike, and how.

But 't was no sooner thought than done, The field was in a moment won :

"Make way for Liberty!" he cried, Then ran, with arms extended wide, As if his dearest friend to clasp; Ten spears he swept within his grasp.

"Make way for Liberty!" he cried; Their keen points met from side to side; He bowed amongst them like a tree, And thus made way for Liberty.

Swift to the breach his comrades fly; "Make way for Liberty!" they cry, And through the Austrian phalanx dart, As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart; While, instantaneous as his fall, Rout, ruin, panic, scattered all : An earthquake could not overthrow A city with a surer blow.

Thus Switzerland again was free; Thus death made way for Liberty!

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

SWITZERLAND.

WILLIAM TELL.

ONCE Switzerland was free! With what a pride
I used to walk these hills, - look up to heaven,
And bless God that it was so! It was free
From end to end, from cliff to lake 't was free!
Free as our torrents are, that leap our rocks,
And plough our valleys, without asking leave;
Or as our peaks, that wear their caps of snow
In very presence of the regal sun!
How happy was I in it, then! I loved
Its very storms. Ay, often have I sat
In my boat at night, when midway o'er the lake,
The stars went out, and down the mountain

gorge

The wind came roaring, - I have sat and eyed The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head, And think I had no master save his own.

JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES.

One look, one last look, to the cots and the The General rode alongus to form us for the fight; towers,

When a murmuring sound broke out, and swelled

To the rows of our vines and the beds of our flowers;

into a shout

Among the godless horsemen upon the tyrant's right.

To the church where the bones of our fathers decayed,

Where we fondly had deemed that ourown should And hark! like the roar of the billows on the

The cry of battle rises along their charging line : For God! for the cause! for the Church! for the laws!

Alas! we must leave thee, dear desolate home,
To the spearmen of Uri, the shavelings of Rome;
To the serpent of Florence, the sultan of Spain; For Charles, king of England, and Rupert of the
To the pride of Anjou, and the guile of Lorraine.

Rhine!

BANNOCKBURN.

AT Bannockburn the English lay,
The Scots they were na far away,
But waited for the break o' day
That glinted in the east.

But soon the sun broke through the heath
And lighted up that field o' death,
When Bruce, wi' saul-inspiring breath,

His heralds thus addressed:

"Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has often led, Welcome to your gory bed,

Or to glorious victory !

"Now's the day, and now's the hour;
See the front o' battle lour;

See approach proud Edward's power, -
Edward! chains and slavery !

"Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave ? Wha sae base as be a slave?

Traitor! coward! turn and flee!

"Wha for Scotland's king and law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Freeman stand, or freeman fa',
Caledonia! on wi' me!

"By oppression's woes and pains! By your sons in servile chains! We will drain our dearest veins,

But they shall be - shall be free!

"Lay the proud usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty 's in every blow!

But hark! through the fast-flashing lightning of

war,

What steed to the desert flies frantic and far?
'T is thine, O Glenullin! whose bride shall await,
Likea love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the gate.
A steed comes at morning: no rider is there;
But its bridle is red with the sign of despair.
Weep, Albin! to death and captivity led!
O, weep! but thy tears cannot number the dead ;
For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave,
Culloden! that reeks with the blood of the brave

LOCHIEL.

Go, preach to the coward, thou death-telling seer!
Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear,
Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight
This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright.

WIZARD.

Ha! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn?
Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be

torn!

Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth
From his home in the dark rolling clouds of the
north!

Lo! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode
Companionless, bearing destruction abroad;
But down let him stoop from his havoc on high!
Ah! home let him speed, for the spoiler is nigh.
Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the
blast

Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast?
'T is the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven
From his eyry, that beacons the darkness of

heaven.

O crested Lochiel! the peerless in might,
Whose banners arise on the battlements' height,
Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to burn;
Return to thy dwelling! all lonely return!
For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it

ROBERT BURNS.

stood,

And a wild mother scream o'er herfamishing brood.

Forward! let us do, or die!"

Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down!
Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain,
And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain. | All plaided and plumed in their tartan array

That knits me to thy rugged strand?
Still, as I view each well-known scene,
Think what is now, and what hath been,
Seems as, to me, of all bereft,
Sole friends thy woods and streams were left;
And thus I love them better still,

Even in extremity of ill.

By Yarrow's stream still let me stray,
Though none should guide my feeble way;
Still feel the breeze down Ettrick break,
Although it chill my withered cheek;
Still lay my head by Teviot stone,
Though there, forgotten and alone,
The bard may draw his parting groan.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

MACGREGOR'S GATHERING.

Air, "THAIN' A GRIGALACH."

These verses are adapted to a very wild, yet lively, gathering tune, used by the Macgregors. The severe treatment of this clan, their outlawry, and the proscription of their very name, are alluded to in the ballad.]

brae,

And the clan has a name that is nameless by day;
Then gather, gather, gather, Grigalach!
Gather, gather, gather, etc.

The war-drum is muffled, and black is the bier; THE moon's on the lake, and the mist's on the
His death-bell is tolling: O mercy, dispel
Yon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell !
Life flutters convulsed in his quivering limbs,
And his blood-streaming nostril in agony swims.
Accursed be the fagots that blaze at his feet,
Where his heart shall be thrown ere it ceases to
beat,

Our signal for fight, that from monarchs we drew,
Must be heard but by night in our vengeful haloo!
Then haloo, Grigalach! haloo, Grigalach!
Haloo, haloo, haloo, Grigalach, etc.

Glen Orchy's proud mountains, Coalchurn and
her towers,
Glenstrae and Glenlyon no longer are ours :

We're landless, landless, landless, Grigalach!
Landless, landless, landless, etc.

But doomed and devoted by vassal and lord

Macgregor has still both his heart and his sword!
Then courage, courage, courage, Grigalach!
Courage, courage, courage, etc.

If they rob us of name, and pursue us with beagles,
Give their roofs to the flame, and their flesh to

the eagles !
Then vengeance, vengeance, vengeance,
Grigalach!

Vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, etc.

While there's leaves in the forest, and foam on the river,

Macgregor, despite them, shall flourish forever! Come then, Grigalach! come then, Grigalach!

Come then, come then, come then, etc.

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