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These verses, which appeared in Blackwood for February, 1818, are, says Scott, 'a literal translation of an ancient Swiss ballad upon the Battle of Sempach, fought 9th July, 1386, being the victory by which the Swiss Cantons established their independence; the author, Albert Tehudi, denominated the Souter, from his profession of a shoemaker. He was a citizen of Lucerne, esteemed highly among his countrymen, both for his powers as a Meister-Singer, or minstrel, and his courage as a soldier; so that he might share the praise conferred by Collins on Eschylus, that,

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'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 priest 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.'

'T was on a Monday morning then,
The corn was steeped in dew,
And merry maids had sickles ta'en,
When the host to Sempach drew.

The stalwart men of fair Lucerne,
Together have they joined;
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 undismayed.' -

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

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There was lacing then of helmets bright,
And closing ranks amain;
The peaks they hewed from their boot-
points

Might well-nigh load a wain.

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 prayed to God aloud,
And he displayed his rainbow fair
Against a swarthy cloud.

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Then heart and pulse throbbed more and more
With courage firm and high,

And down the good Confederates bore
On the Austrian chivalry.

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It was the Archduke Leopold,

So lordly would he ride,

But he came against the Switzer churls,
And they slew him in his pride.

The heifer said unto the bull,
And shall I not complain?
There came a foreign nobleman
To milk me on the plain.

'One thrust of thine outrageous horn
Has galled 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;
And he arrived in luckless hour
At Sempach on the lake.

He and his squire a fisher called-
His name was Hans von Rot
For love or meed or charity,
Receive us in thy boat!'

Their anxious call the fisher heard,
And, glad the meed to win,
His shallop to the shore he steered
And took the flyers in.

And while against the tide and wind
Hans stoutly rowed his way,
The noble to his follower signed

He should the boatman slay.

The fisher's back was to them turned,
The squire his dagger drew,
Hans saw his shadow in the lake,

The boat he overthrew.

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He whelmed the boat, and as they strove He stunned them with his oar, 'Now, drink ye deep, my gentle sirs,

You'll ne'er stab boatman more.

'Two gilded fishes in the lake
This morning have I caught,
Their silver scales may much avail,
Their carrion flesh is naught.'

It was a messenger of woe

Has sought the Austrian land: "Ah! gracious lady, evil news! My lord lies on the strand.

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"One day there was," he said, "when I certainly began to have great doubts whether the mischief was not getting at my mind - and I tell you how I tried to reassure myself on that score. I was quite unfit for anything like original composition; but I thought if I could turn an old German ballad I had been reading into decent rhymes, I might dismiss my worst apprehensions and you shall see what came of the experiment." He then desired his daughter Sophia to fetch the MS. of "The Noble Moringer," as it had been taken down from his dictation, partly by her, and partly by Mr. Laidlaw, during one long and painful day when he lay in bed.'

O, WILL you hear a knightly tale of old Bohemian day,

It was the noble Moringer in wedlock bed he lay;

He halsed and kissed his dearest dame that was as sweet as May, And said, 'Now, lady of my heart, attend the words I say.

"T is I have vowed a pilgrimage unto a

distant shrine,

And I must seek Saint Thomas-land and

leave the land that's mine; Here shalt thou dwell the while in state, so thou wilt pledge thy fay That thou for my return wilt wait seven twelvemonths and a day.'

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That woman's faith's a brittle trust Seven twelvemonths didst thou say? I'll pledge me for no lady's truth beyond the seventh fair day.'

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