Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 34 1832.pdf/2



If, by the wood-fire's blaze, When Winter-stars gleam cold, The glorious tales of older days May proudly yet be told; Forget not then the shepherd-race. Who made the hearth a holy place!

art thou, flower?—from holy ground Where freedom's foot hath been! Yet bugle-blast or trumpet-sound Ne'er shook that solemn scene.

Flower of a noble field!—thy birth Was not where spears have cross'd, And shiver'd helms have strewn the earth Midst banners won and lost:

But, where the sunny hues and showers Unto thy cup were given, There met high hearts at midnight hours, Pure hands were rais'd to heaven.

And vows were pledg'd, that man should roam, Through every Alpine dell, Free as the wind, the torrent's foam, The shaft of William Tell!

And prayer—the full deep flow of prayer, Hallow'd the pastoral sod, And souls grew strong for battle there, Nerv'd with the peace of God.

Before the Alps and stars they knelt, That calm, devoted band; And rose, and made their spirits felt, Through all the mountain land.

Then welcome Grütli 's free-bom flower! Even in thy pale decay, There dwells a breath, a tone, a power, Which all high thoughts obey.F. H.