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,
