ORIGINAL POETRY, WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR THIS VOLUME. THE LEAGUE OF THE ALPS, OR THE MEETING ON THE FIELD OF GRÜTLI. BY MRS HEMANS. It was in the year 1308, that the Swiss rose against the tyranny of the Bailiffs appointed over them by ALBERT of Austria. The field called Grütli, at the foot of the Selisberg, and near the boundaries of Uri and Unterwalden, was fixed upon by three spirited yeomen, WALTER FÜRST, (the father-in-law of WILLIAM TELL,) WERNER STAUFFACHER, and ERNI, (or ARNOLD) MELCHTHAL, as their place of meeting to deliberate on the accomplishment of their projects." Hither came FÜRST and MELCHTHAL along secret paths over the heights, and STAUFFACHER in his boat across the Lake of the Four Cantons. On the night preceding the 11th November 1307, they met here, each with ten associates, men of approved worth; and while, at this solemn hour, they were wrapt in the contemplation, that on their success depended the fate of their whole posterity, WERNER, WALTER, and ARNOLD held up their hands to heaven, and in the name of the ALMIGHTY, who has created man to an inalienable degree of freedom, swore jointly and strenuously to defend that freedom. The thirty associates heard the oath with awe, and with uplifted hands attested the same God and all his Saints, that they were firmly bent on offering up their lives for the defence of their original liberty. They then calmly agreed on their future proceedings, and, for the present, each returned to his hamlet."-Planta's History of the Helvetic Confederacy. On the first day of the year 1308, they succeeded in throwing off the Austrian yoke; and "it is well attested," says the same author, "that not one drop of blood was shed on this memorable occasion, nor had one proprietor to lament the loss of a claim, a privilege, or an inch of land. The Swiss met on the succeeding Sabbath, and once more confirmed by oath their ancient, and (as they fondly named it) perpetual league." THE LEAGUE OF THE ALPS. 'Twas night upon the Alps. The (1) Senn's wild horn, That welcome steps were nigh. The flocks had gone Oh! who may tell the Majesty of Night, Thron'd on those summits?-They, for whom her hours Bring, with their stars, but softer sounds and light, And richer scents, to float through citron bowers, Know little of the marvels and the powers, Whereby she rules the spirit!-Let them stand By the blue Glaciers, midst the mountain towers, When Heaven's deep silence wraps a voiceless landThere may they learn the might and sorcery of her wand. For awful, e'en as death, the calm around, The leaves were falling, but without a sound, When winds are laid (4). With solemn radiance crown'd, Of distant torrents, on the scene's repose, Came rolling mightier to the lake's dark shore, Where life's far murmur swell'd the breathless air no more. Did the land sleep?-The Woodman's axe had ceas'd The night in its mid-watch: it was a time For there, where snows, in crowning glory spread, Yet thus it was !-Amidst the fleet streams gushing And the glad heights, through mist and tempest rushing And the green pastures, where the herd's sweet bell There peasant-men their free thoughts might not tell, And hollow sounds that wake to Guilt's dull stealthy tread. But in a land of happy shepherd-homes, On its blue hills in quiet joy reclining, With their bright hearth-fires, midst the twilight-glooms, For they, that from the forest-silence turn Of love that folds the hallow'd things of yore ;— Such men are strong!-there need no rocks to fence The soil which rears those hearts, and draws its charter thence! A sound went up-the wave's dark rest was broken; To their eternal cliffs a moment's token Of man's brief course the troubled waters bore; And then their sleep a glancing image wore Of torch-fires streaming out o'er crag and wood; They stood in arms--the wolf-spear and the bow O'er their low pastoral valleys might the tide So were they rous'd!-th' invading step had pass'd Th' enduring and magnificent array Of sovereign Alps, that wing'd their eagles with the day? This might not long be borne !-the tameless hills That he hath made man free!—and they, whose dwelling The weight of sufferance from their hearts repelling, They rose the forester, the mountaineer— ---Oh! what hath earth more strong than the good peasant-spear? Sacred be Grütli's field!—their vigil keeping Through many a blue and starry summer night, To gird th' oppress'd, had given their deep thoughts way, And brac'd their spirits for the patriot-fight, With lovely images of homes, that lay Bower'd 'midst the rustling pines, or by the torrent-spray. Now had endurance reach'd its bounds!-They came The stars, the waves, their soften'd light enshrining, And man's high soul supreme o'er mighty nature shining! Beneath that field the waters lay reposing, Stretch'd in dark stillness on their marble bed; All regions of the living and the dead Folding alike; but Grandeur's seat and throne Calmly they stood, and with collected mien, As if the spirit of the hour and scene, With the wood's whisper, and the wave's sweet flow, And three, that seem'd as chieftains of the band, For he had walk'd with God, beside the mountain streams. And his gray hairs, in happier times, might well As melts a wreath of snow. But who can tell Walter Fürst. |