Felicia Hemans in The Edinburgh Magazine And Literary Miscellany Volume 12 1823/Song of The Battle of Morgarten
Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 12, Pages 39-41
SONG OF THE BATTLE OF MORGARTEN.
Some days before the battle of Morgarten, fifty men, who, having rendered themselves obnoxious to the magistracy, had been banished from the Canton of Schwitz, came to the frontiers, and requested that they might be allowed to join the Swiss confederates posted on Mount Sattel, in the defence of their country. The magistrates, deeming it unwise to deviate from an established rule, refused to admit the exiles within their confines. Thus rejected, they nevertheless resolved to expose their lives for their country, and posted themselves on the eminence above Morgarten, beyond the frontiers of the Canton.
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The 15th October 1315 dawned. The sun darted its first rays on the shields and armour of the advancing host; and this being the first army ever known to have attempted the frontiers of the Cantons, the Swiss viewed its long line with various emotions. Montfort de Tettnang led the cavalry into the narrow pass, and soon filled the whole space between the mountain and the lake. The fifty exiles on the eminence raised a sudden shout, and rolled down heaps of rocks and stones among the crowded ranks. The confederates on the mountain, perceiving the impression made by this attack, rushed down in close array, and fell upon the flank of the disordered column. With massy clubs they dashed in pieces the armour of the enemy, and dealt their blows and thrusts with long pikes. The narrowness of the defile admitted of no evolutions, and a slight frost having injured the road, the horses were impeded in all their motions; many leaped into the lake; all were startled; and at last the whole column gave way, and fell suddenly back on the infantry, which had already advanced into the pass; and these last, as the nature of the country did not allow them to open their files, were run over by the fugitives, and many of them trampled to death. A general route now ensued; the Swiss continued the slaughter; and Duke Leopold was, with much difficulty, rescued by a peasant, who, knowing the bye-paths of the mountains, led him to Winterthur, where the historian of the times saw him arrive in the evening, pale, sullen, and dismayed. Thus did the confederates, without much loss, and in less than three hours, gain a decisive victory.
See Planta's History of the Helvetic Confederacy.
Song of the Battle of Morgarten.
The wine-month*[1] shone in its golden prime,
And the red grapes clustering hung,
But a deeper sound, through the Switzer's clime,
Than the vintage-music rung—
A sound through vaulted cave,
A sound through echoing glen,
Like the hollow swell of a rushing wave:
—'Twas the tread of steel-girt men!
And a trumpet, pealing wild and far,
'Midst the ancient rocks was blown,
Till the Alps replied to that voice of war,
With a thousand of their own.
And through the forest-glooms,
Flash'd helmets to the day,
And the winds were tossing knightly plumes,
Like pine-boughs in their play.
In Hasli's wilds there was gleaming steel,
As the host of the Austrian pass'd:
And the Shreckhorn's rocks, with a savage peal,
Made mirth of his clarion's blast.
Up midst the Righi snows,
The stormy march was heard,
With the charger's tramp, whence fire-sparks rose,
And the leader's gathering word.
But a band, the noblest band of all,
Through the rude Morgarten strait,
With blazon'd streamers, and lances tail,
Mov'd onwards in princely state.
They came, with heavy chains,
For the race despis'd so long—
But amidst his Alp domains,
The herdsman's arm is strong!
The sun was reddening the clouds of morn
When they enter'd the rock defile,
And thrill as a joyous hunter's horn
Their bugles rung the while.—
But on the misty height,
Where the mountain people stood,
There was stillness as of night,
When storms at distance brood:
There was stillness, as of deep dead night,
And a pause—but not of fear,
While the Switzers gaz'd on the gathering might
Of the hostile shield and spear.
On wound those columns bright,
Between the lake and wood,
But they look'd not to the misty height,
Where the mountain people stood
The Pass was fill'd with their serried power,
All helm'd and mail-array'd,
And their steps had sounds like a thunder shower
In the rustling forest shade.
There were prince and crested knight
Hemm'd in by cliff and flood,
When a shout arose from the misty height
Where the mountain people stood.
And the mighty rocks came bounding down
Their startled foes among,
With a joyous whirl from the summit thrown—
Oh! the herdsman's arm is strong!
They came, like Lauwine*[2] hurl’d,
From Alp to Alp in play,
When the echoes shout through the snowy world,
And the pines are borne away.
The larch-woods crash'd on the mountain side,
And the Switzers rush'd from high
With a sudden charge, on the flower and pride
Of the Austrian chivalry:
Like hunters of the deer,
They storm'd the narrow dell,
And first in the shock, with Uri's spear,
Was the arm of William Tell†[3]!
There was tumult in the crowded strait,
And a cry of wild dismay,
And many a warrior met his fate
From a peasant's hand that day!
And the Empire's banners there,
From its place of waving free,
Went down before the shepherd men,
The men of the Forest Sea‡[4].
With their pikes and massy clubs, they brake
The cuirass and the shield,
And the war-horse dash'd to the reddening lake,
From the reapers of the field!
The field—but not of sheaves—
Proud crests and pennons lay,
Strewn o'er it thick as the beech-wood leaves,
In the Autumn tempest's way.
Oh! the sun in heaven fierce havock view’d
When the Austrian turn'd to fly,
And the brave, in the trampling multitude,
Had a fearful death to die!
And the leader of the war
At eve unhelm'd was seen,
With a hurrying step on the wilds afar,
And a pale and troubled mien.
But the sons of the land which the free-man tills,
Went back from the battle-toil,
To their cabin home, midst the deep green hills,
All burden'd with royal spoil.
There were songs and festal fires
On the soaring Alps that night,
When children sprung to greet their sires
From the wild Morgarten fight.