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Of Edward and of Mary For her he chaf d the mountain goat, O'er Alps and glaciers bounding ; For her the chamois he would shoot, Dark horrors all surrounding.

But evening come, He fought his home, And, anxious, lovely woman, She hail'd the fight, And every night, The cottage rung, As they sung.. Oh ! dulce, dulce domum

But soon, alas ! this scene of bliss Was chang'd to prospect dreary ! For war and honour rous'd each Swiss, And Edward left his Mary. To bold Gothard’s height he rush'd, ‘Gainst Gallia's foes contending ; And, by unequal numbers crush'd. He died, his land defending.

The evening come. He fought not home, Whilst she—distracted woman—