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,
that blood-clotted hair;
For down came the Templars, like
Cedron in flood,

And dyed their long lances in Saracen blood.

The Saracens, Curdmans, and Ishmaelites yield

To the scallop, the saltier, and crossleted shield;

infidel dead,

thali's head.

Lovely Alice wept alone;

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,
Mix'd with peals of laughter, rose;
As they fell, a solemn strain

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;
We knew the Archduke Leopold
With all his army came.

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,
In martial pomp and fair array,

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
He'll lay his hand of steel;
And with his trusty partisan
Your absolution deal.'

'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;
The pith and core of manhood stern,
Was none cast looks behind.

It was the Lord of Hare-castle,
And to the Duke he said,
'Yon little band of brethren true
Will meet us undismay'd.'

'O Hare-castle, thou heart of hare!'
Fierce Oxenstern replied.
'Shalt see then how the game will fare,'
The taunted knight replied.

There was lacing then ofhelmets bright,
And closing ranks amain;
The peaks they hew'd from their boot-
points

Might wellnigh load a wain3.

And thus they to each other said.
'Yon handful down to hew
Will be no boastful tale to tell,
The peasants are so few.'

The gallant Swiss Confederates there
They pray'd to God aloud,
And he display'd his rainbow fair
Against a swarthy cloud.

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,
And toss his mane and tail;
And ball, and shaft, and crossbow bolt,
Went whistling forth like hail.

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.

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.'

and sturdily said he,

Abide, my lord, and rule your own, and take this rede from me;