He clench'd his set teeth, and his gauntleted hand; He stretch'd, with one buffet, that Page on the strand. As back from the stripling the broken casque roll'd, You might see the blue eyes, and the ringlets of gold. Short time had Count Albert in horror to stare On those death-swimming eyeballs, And dyed their long lances in Saracen blood. The Saracens, Curdmans, and Ishmaelites yield To the scallop, the saltier, and crossleted shield; And the eagles were gorged with the Helpless, ruin'd, left forlorn, infidel dead, thali's head. Lovely Alice wept alone; From Bethsaida's fountains to Naph- Mourn'd o'er love's fond contract torn, Hope, and peace, and honour flown. Mark her breast's convulsive throbs! See, the tear of anguish flows! Mingling soon with bursting sobs, Loud the laugh of frenzy rose. Wild she cursed, and wild she pray'd; | Seven long days and nights are o'er; Death in pity brought his aid, As the village bell struck four. Far from her, and far from France, Faithless Frederick onward rides; Marking, blithe, the morning's glance Mantling o'er the mountain's sides. Heard ye not the boding sound, As the tongue of yonder tower, Slowly, to the hills around, Told the fourth, the fated hour? Long drear vaults before him lie! Glimmering lights are seen to glide! 'Blessed Mary, hear my cry! Deign a sinner's steps to guide!' Often lost their quivering beam, Still the lights move slow before, Till they rest their ghastly gleam Right against an iron door. Thundering voices from within, Lent its wild and wondrous close! Midst the din, he seem'd to hear Voice of friends, by death removed; Well he knew that solemn air, 'Twas the lay that Alice loved. Hark! for now a solemn knell Four times on the still night broke Four times, at its deaden'd swell, Echoes from the ruins spoke. As the lengthen'd clangours die, Slowly opes the iron door! Straight a banquet met his eye, But a funeral's form it wore! Coffins for the seats extend; All with black the board was spread; Girt by parent, brother, friend, Long since number'd with the dead! Alice, in her grave-clothes bound, Ghastly smiling, points a seat: All arose, with thundering sound; All the expected stranger greet. High their meagre arms they wave, Wild their notes of welcome swell; 'Welcome, traitor, to the grave! Perjured, bid the light farewell!' Y THE BATTLE OF SEMPACH. 'Twas when among our linden-trees The bees had housed in swarms (And grey-hair'd peasants say that these Betoken foreign arms); Then look'd we down to Willisow, The land was all in flame; The Austrian nobles made their vow, So hot their heart and bold, 'On Switzer carles we'll trample now, And slay both young and old.' With clarion loud, and banner proud, From Zurich on the lake, Their onward march they make. 'Now list, ye lowland nobles all : Ye seek the mountain strand, Nor wot ye what shall be your lot In such a dangerous land. 'I rede ye, shrive ye of your sins, Before ye farther go; A skirmish in Helvetian hills May send your souls to woe.' 'But where now shall we find a priest Our shrift that he may hear?' 'The Switzer priest1 has ta'en the field, He deals a penance drear. 'Right heavily upon your head 'Twas on a Monday morning then, The corn was steep'd in dew, And merry maids had sickles ta'en, When the host to Sempach drew. All the Swiss clergy who were able to bear arms fought in this patriotic war. The stalwart men of fair Lucerne Together have they join'd; It was the Lord of Hare-castle, 'O Hare-castle, thou heart of hare!' There was lacing then ofhelmets bright, Might wellnigh load a wain3. And thus they to each other said. The gallant Swiss Confederates there Then heart and pulse throbb'd more and more With courage firm and high, And down the good Confederates bore On the Austrian chivalry. The Austrian Lion 'gan to growl, 2 In the original, Haasenstein, or Hare-stone. 3 This seems to allude to the preposterous fashion, during the middle ages, of wearing boots with the points or peaks turned upwards, and so long, that in some cases they were fastened to the knees of the wearer with small chains. When they alighted to fight upon foot, it would seem that the Austrian gentlemen found it necessary to cut off these peaks, that they might move with the necessary activity, 4 A pun on the Archduke's name, LEOPOLD. Lance, pike, and halbert mingled there, The Austrian men-at-arms stood fast, 'I have a virtuous wife at home, I leave them to my country's care,— Then lost was banner, spear, and At Sempach in the flight, The heifer said unto the bull, 'And shall I not complain? There came a foreign nobleman To milk me on the plain. 'These nobles lay their spears right One thrust of thine outrageous horn thick, And keep full firm array, Yet shall my charge their order break, And make my brethren way.' He rush'd against the Austrian band In desperate career, And with his body, breast, and hand, Bore down each hostile spear. Four lances splinter'd on his crest, Six shiver'd in his side; This patriot's self-devoted deed First tamed the Lion's mood, And the four forest cantons freed From thraldom by his blood. Has gall'd the knight so sore, That to the churchyard he is borne To range our glens no more.' An Austrian noble left the stour, And fast the flight 'gan take; He and his squire a fisher call'd (His name was Hans Von Rot)— For love, or meed, or charity, Receive us in thy boat!' Their anxious call the fisher heard, And while against the tide and wind Right where his charge had made a The noble to his follower sign'd Then out and spoke that Lady bright, sore troubled in her cheer, 'Now tell me true, thou noble knight, what order takest thou here? And who shall lead thy vassal band, and hold thy lordly sway, And be thy lady's guardian true when thou art far away?' Out spoke the noble Moringer, 'Of that have thou no care, There's many a valiant gentleman of me holds living fair; The trustiest shall rule my land, my vassals and my state, And be a guardian tried and true to thee, my lovely mate. 'As Christian man, I needs must keep the vow which I have plight; When I am far in foreign land, remember thy true knight; And cease, my dearest dame, to grieve, for vain were sorrow now, But grant thy Moringer his leave, since God hath heard his vow.' It was the noble Moringer from bed he made him boune, And met him there his Chamberlain, with ewer and with gown: flung the mantle on his back, 'twas furr'd with miniver, dipp'd his hand in water cold, and bathed his forehead fair. He He Now hear,' he said, 'Sir Chamberlain, true vassal art thou mine, And such the trust that I repose in that proved worth of thine, For seven years shalt thou rule my towers, and lead my vassal train, And pledge thee for my Lady's faith till I return again.' Here shalt thou dwell the while in state, The Chamberlain was blunt and true, so thou wilt pledge thy fay, That thou for my return wilt wait seven twelvemonths and a day.' | and sturdily said he, Abide, my lord, and rule your own, and take this rede from me; |