Page:Felicia Hemans in the New Monthly Magazine Volume 11 1824.pdf/6



! enter not yon shadowy cave, Seek not the bright spars there, Though the whispering pines, that o'er it wave, With freshness fill the air. For there the patriot-three, In the garb of old array'd,        By their native forest-sea* On a rocky couch are laid.

The patriot-three that met of yore, Beneath the midnight sky, And leagued their hearts on the Grütli shore† In the name of Liberty! Now silently they sleep Amidst the hills they freed, But their rest is only deep Till their country's hour of need.

They start not at the hunter's call, Nor the Lammer-geyer's cry, Nor the rush of a sudden torrent's fall, Nor the Lauwine thundering by! And the Alpine herdsman's lay, To a Switzer's heart so dear, On the wild wind floats away, No more for them to hear.

But when the battle-horn is blown Till the Schreckhorn's peaks reply, When the Jungfrau's cliffs send back the tone Through their eagles' lonely sky; 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!