"While I struggled through the fight, Albert was my sword and shield; Till strange horror quench'd my sight, And I fainted on the field. "Slow awakening from that trance,

When my soul return'd to day, Vanish'd were the fiends of France,

But in Albert's blood I lay.

"Slain for me, his dearest breath
On my lips he did resign;
Slain for me, he snatch'd his death
From the blow that menaced mine.

"He had raised his dying head,

And was gazing on my face;

As I woke, the spirit fled,

But I felt his last embrace."

SHEPHERD.

"Man of suffering! such a tale

Would bring tears from marble eyes!"

WANDERER.

"Ha! my daughter's cheek grows pale!"

WANDERER'S WIFE.

"Help! O help! my daughter dies!"

WANDERER.

"Calm thy transports, O my wife!

Peace! for these dear orphans' sake!"

WANDERER'S WIFE.

"O my joy, my hope, my life,

O my child, my child, awake!".

WANDERER.

"God! O God, whose goodness gives;

God! whose wisdom takes awaySpare my child."

SHEPHERD.

"She lives, she lives!" WANDERER.

"Lives?-my daughter, didst thou say?

"God Almighty, on my knees,

In the dust will I adore

Thine unsearchable decrees;

-She was dead:-she lives once more."

WANDERER'S DAUGHTER.

"When poor Albert died, no prayer Call'd him back to hated life:

O that I had perish'd there,
Not his widow, but his wife!"

WANDERER.

"Dare my daughter thus repine?
Albert, answer from above;
Tell me,-are these infants thine,
Whom their mother does not love?"

WANDERER'S DAUGHTER.
"Does not love!-my father, hear;
Hear me, or my heart will break;
Dear is life, but only dear

For my parents', children's sake.

"Bow'd to Heaven's mysterious will,

I am worthy yet of you; Yes!-I am a mother still,

Though I feel a widow, too."

WANDERER.

"Mother, widow, mourner, ali,

All kind names in one,-my child; On thy faithful neck I fall; Kiss me, are we reconciled?"

WANDERER'S DAUGHTER.

"Yes, to Albert I appeal:
Albert, answer from above,
That my father's breast may feel
All his daughter's heart of love."
SHEPHERD'S WIFE.

"Faint and wayworn as they be With the day's long journey, sire, Let thy pilgrim family

Now with me to rest retire."

WANDERER.

"Yes, the hour invites to sleep; Till the morrow we must part:Nay, my daughter, do not weep, Do not weep and break my heart. "Sorrow-soothing sweet repose

On your peaceful pillows light; Angel hands your eyelids closeDream of Paradise to-night."

PART V.

The Wanderer, being left alone with the shepherd, relates his adventures after the battle of Underwalden

SHEPHERD.

"WHEN the good man yields his breath,

(For the good man never dies,) Bright, beyond the gulf of death, Lo! the land of promise lies.

"Peace to Albert's awful shade,

In that land where sorrows cease; And to Albert's ashes, laid

In the earth's cold bosom, peace."

WANDERER.

"On the fatal field I lay,

Till the hour when twilight pale, Like the ghost of dying day, Wander'd down the darkening vale.

"Then in agony I rose,

And with horror look'd around, Where, embracing friends and foes, Dead and dying, strew'd the ground.

"Many a widow fix'd her eye,

Weeping, where her husband bled, Heedless, though her babe was by, Prattling to his father dead

"Many a mother, in despair,

Turning up the ghastly slain, Sought her son, her hero there,

Whom she long'd to seek in vain.

"Dark the evening shadows roll'd

On the eye that gleam'd in death; And the evening dews fell cold

On the lip that gasp'd for breath.

"As I gazed, an ancient dame,
-She was childless by her look,-
With refreshing cordials came;
Of her bounty I partook.

"Then, with desperation bold,

Albert's precious corpse I bore
On these shoulders weak and old,
Bow'd with misery before.

"Albert's angel gave me strength,
As I stagger'd down the glen;
And I hid my charge at length
In its wildest, deepest den.

"Then, returning through the shade

To the battle scene, I sought, "Mongst the slain, an axe and spade;

With such weapons FREEMEN fought.

"Scythes for swords our youth did wield,
In that execrable strife:
Ploughshares in that horrid field
Bled with slaughter, breathed with life.

"In a dark and lonely cave,

While the glimmering moon arose, Thus I dug my Albert's grave;

There his hallow'd limbs repose.

"Tears then, tears too long represt,
Gush'd:-they fell like healing balm,
Till the whirlwind in my breast
Died into a dreary calm.

"On the fresh earth's humid bed,
Where my martyr lay enshrined,
This forlorn, unhappy head,

Crazed with anguish, I reclined.

"But while o'er my weary eyes
Soothing slumbers seem'd to creep.
Forth I sprang, with strange surprise,
From the clasping arms of sleep.
"For the bones of Albert dead
Heaved the turf with horrid throes,
And his grave beneath my head,
Burst asunder;-Albert rose!

"Ha! my son-my son,' I cried,
'Wherefore hast thou left thy grave?'
'Fly, my father,' he replied;

'Save my wife-my children save.'

"In the passing of a breath

This tremendous scene was o'er : Darkness shut the gates of death, Silence seal'd them as before. VOL. II.-20

"One pale moment fix'd I stood In astonishment severe; Horror petrified my blood,

I was wither'd up with fear.

"Then a sudden trembling came O'er my limbs; I felt on fire, Burning, quivering like a flame In the instant to expire."

SHEPHERD.

"Rather like the mountain oak, Tempest-shaken, rooted fast, Grasping strength from every stroke, While it wrestles with the blast."

WANDERER.

"Ay!-my heart, unwont to yield, Quickly quell'd the strange affright, And undaunted o'er the field

I began my lonely flight.

"Loud the gusty night-wind blew,

Many an awful pause between, Fits of light and darkness flew,

Wild and sudden o'er the scene.

"For the moon's resplendent eye

Gleams of transient glory shed; And the clouds, athwart the sky

Like a routed army, fled.

"Sounds and voices fill'd the vale,

Heard alternate loud and low; Shouts of victory swell'd the gale, But the breezes murmur'd wo.

"As I climb'd the mountain's side,

Where the lake and valley meet, All my country's power and pride Lay in ruins at my feet.

"On that grim and ghastly plain

Underwalden's heart-strings broke, When she saw her heroes slain,

And her rocks receive the yoke.

"On that plain, in childhood's hours, From their mother's arms set free, Oft those heroes gather'd flowers,

Often chased the wandering bee.

"On that plain, in rosy youth,

They had fed their father's flocks, Told their love, and pledged their truth, In the shadow of those rocks.

"There, with shepherd's pipe and song, In the merry mingling dance, Once they led their brides along,

Now! Perdition seize thee, France!

SHEPHERD.

"Heard not Heaven th' accusing cries Of the blood that smoked around, While the life-warm sacrifice

Palpitated on the ground?"

"Fled; and, ere the noon of day,

Reach'd the lonely goat-herd's nest, Where my wife, my children layHusband-father-think the rest."

PART VI.

The Wanderer informs the shepherd that, after the example of many of his countrymen flying from the tyranny of France, it is his intention to settle in some remote province of America.

SHEPHERD.

"WANDERER, whither wouldst thou roam
To what region far away
Bend thy steps to find a home,
In the twilight of thy day?”

WANDERER.

"In the twilight of my day,

I am hastening to the West; There my weary limbs to lay,

Where the sun retires to rest.

"Far beyond th' Atlantic floods,

Stretch'd beneath the evening sky, Realms of mountains, dark with woods In Columbia's bosom lie.

"There, in glens and caverns rude,
Silent since the world began,
Dwells the virgin Solitude,
Unbetray'd by faithless man ;
"Where a tyrant never trod,

Where a slave was never known,
But where Nature worships God
In the wilderness alone:

"-Thither, thither would I roam ; There my children may be free;

I for them will find a home, They shall find a grave for me. "Though my fathers' bones afar

In their native land repose, Yet beneath the twilight star Soft on mine the turf shall close. "Though the mould that wraps my clay When this storm of life is o'er, Never since creation lay

On a human breast before ;

"Yet in sweet communion there,
When she follows to the dead,
Shall my bosom's partner share
Her poor husband's lowly bed.
"Albert's babes shall deck our grave
And my daughter's duteous tears
Bid the flowery verdure wave
Through the winter waste of years."

SHEPHERD.

"Long before thy sun descend,

May thy woes and wanderings cease; Late and lovely be thine end; Hope and triumph, joy and peace!

"As our lakes, at day's decline,

Brighten through the gathering gloom, May thy latest moments shine

Through the nightfall of the tomb."

WANDERER.

"Though our parents perish'd here,
Like the phoenix on her nest,
Lo! new-fledged her wings appear,
Hovering in the golden West.

"Thither shall her sons repair,

And beyond the roaring main Find their native country there, Find their Switzerland again. "Mountains, can ye chain the will? Ocean, canst thou quench the heart! No; I feel my country still,

LIBERTY! where'er thou art.

"Thus it was in hoary time, When our fathers sallied forth, Full of confidence sublime,

From the famine-wasted North."

"Freedom, in a land of rocks
Wild as Scandinavia, give,
Power Eternal! where our flocks
And our little ones may live.'

"Thus they pray'd;—a sacred hand
Led them by a path unknown,
To that dear delightful land
Which I yet must call my own.
"To the vale of Switz they came,
Soon their meliorating toil
Gave the forests to the flame,

And their ashes to the soil.

"Thence their ardent labours spread, Till above the mountain snows Towering beauty show'd her head, And a new creation rose !

"So, in regions wild and wide,

We will pierce the savage woods, Clothe the rocks in purple pride,

Plough the valleys, tame the floods;

"Till a beauteous inland isle, By a forest sea embraced, Shall make desolation smile

In the depth of his own waste.

There is a tradition among the Swiss, that they are descended from the ancient Scandinavians; among whom, in a remote age, there arose so grievous a famine, that it was determined in the assembly of the nation, that every tenth man and his family should quit their country, and seek a new possession. Six thousand, chosen by lot, thus emigrated at once from the North. They prayed to God to conduct them to a land like their own, where they might dwell in freedom and quiet, finding food for their families, and pasture for their cattle. God, says the tradi tion, led them to a valley among the Alps, where they cleared away the forests, built the town of Switz, and afterwards peopled and cultivated the cantons of Uri and Underwalden.

"There, unenvied and unknown,

We shall dwell secure and free, In a country all our own,

In a land of liberty."

SHEPHERD.

"Yet the woods, the rocks, the streams,
Unbeloved, shall bring to mind,
Warm with evening's purple beams,
Dearer objects left behind;

"And thy native country's song,
Caroll'd in a foreign clime,
When new echoes shall prolong,-
Simple, tender, and sublime;

"How will thy poor cheek turn pale,
And, before thy banish'd eyes,
Underwalden's charming vale

And thine own sweet cottage rise!"

WANDERER.

"By the glorious ghost of TELL;
By Mogarthen's awful fray;
By the field where Albert fell
In thy last and bitter day;

"Soul of Switzerland, arise!

-Ha! the spell has waked the dead: From her ashes to the skies

Switzerland exalts her head.

"See the queen of mountains stand

In immortal mail complete, With the lightning in her hand,

And the Alps beneath her feet.

"Hark! her voice: My sons, awake: Freedom dawns, behold the day: From the bed of bondage break,

'Tis your mother calls,-obey.' "At the sound, our fathers' graves,

On each ancient battle-plain, Utter groans, and toss like waves

When the wild blast sweeps the main.

"Rise, my brethren! cast away

All the chains that bind you slaves: Rise, your mother's voice obey,

And appease your fathers' graves.

"Strike!-the conflict is begun ; Freemen, soldiers, follow me. Shout! the victory is won,SWITZERLAND AND LIBERTY!"

SHEPHERD.

"Warrior, warrior, stay thine arm! Sheathe, O sheathe thy frantic sword

WANDERER.

"Ab! I rave-I faint-the charm Flies, and memory is restored.

"Yes, to agony restored

From the too transporting charm:Sleep for ever, O my sword!

Be thou wither'd, O mine arm!