The night in its mid-watch: it was a time
E’en mark’d and hallow’d unto slumber's reign!
—But thoughts were stirring, restless and sublime,
For there, where snows, in crowning glory spread,
High and unmark'd by mortal footstep lay,
And there, where torrents, midst the Ice-caves fed,
Burst in their joy of light and sound away;
And there, where Freedom, as in scornful play,
Had hung man's dwellings midst the realms of air,
O’er cliffs, the very birth-place of the day;
—Oh! Who would dream that Tyranny could dare
Yet thus it was!—Amidst the fleet streams gushing
To bring down rainbows o'er their sparry cell,
And the glad heights, through mist and tempest rushing
Up where the sun’s red fire-glance earliest fell;
And the green pastures, where the herd’s sweet bell
Recall’d such life as eastern Patriarchs led;
There peasant-men their free thoughts might not tell,
Save in the hour of shadows and of dread,
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,
From bowery lattice through the dark woods shining;
A land of legends and wild songs, entwining
Their memory with all memories lov’d and blest;
In such a land there dwells a Power, combining
The strength of many a calm, but fearless breast,
For they, that from the forest-silence turn
Joyous at eve to their own threshold-floor;
They whose deep hearts upon the mountains burn,
O'er the land's battle-tales and minstrel-lore;
And unto whom the church-bells, as they pour
On the far Alps, their voices, bring a sense
Of love that folds the hallow'd things of yore;—
Such men are strong!—there need no rocks to fence
A sound went up—the wave's dark rest was broken;
On Uri's Lake (5)[1] was heard a midnight-oar!
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
