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, And toss his main and tail; Lance, pike, and halbert, mingled there, "I have a virtuous wife at home, I leave them to my country's care,- And with his body, breast, and hand, Four lances splinter'd on his crest, Still on the serried files he press'd- This patriot's self-devoted deed First tamed the Lion's mood, And the four forest cantons freed From thraldom by his blood. Right where his charge had made a lane, His valiant comrades burst, With sword, and axe, and partisan, And hack, and stab, and thrust. The daunted Lion 'gan to whine, And granted ground amain, The Mountain Bull he bent his brows, It was the Archduke Leopold, But he came against the Switzer churls, 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 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, glad the meed to win, And while against the tide and wind He should the boatman slay. The fisher's back was to them turn'd, The boat he overthrew. He 'whelm'd the boat, and as they strove, He stunn'd 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 "At Sempach, on the battle-field, "Ah, gracious God!" the lady cried, "What tidings of despair! Now would you know the minstrel wight A burgher of Lucerne. A merry man was he, I wot, THE NOBLE MORINGER. AN ANCIENT BALLAD. I. O, WILL you hear a knightly tale of old Bohemian day, It was the noble Moringer in wedlock bed he lay; He halsed and kiss'd his dearest dame, that was as sweet as May, And said, "Now, lady of my heart, attend the words I say. II. ""Tis I have vow'd 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." III. Then out and spoke that Lady bright, sore troubled in her cheer, IV. Out spoke the noble Moringer, “Of that have thou no care, V. "As Christian-man, I needs must keep the vow which I have plight, VI. It was the noble Moringer from bed he made him boune, VII "Now hear," he said, "Sir Chamberlain, true vassal art thou mine, VIII. The Chamberlain was blunt and true, and sturdily said he, 66 Abide, my lord, and rule your own, and take this rede from me; 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." IX. The noble Baron turn'd him round, his heart was full of care, X. "To watch and ward my castle strong, and to protect my land, XI. Marstetten's heir was kind and true, but fiery, hot, and young, 66 XII. Rely upon my plighted faith, which shall be truly tried, To guard your lands, and ward your towers, and with your vassals ride; And for your lovely Lady's faith, so virtuous and so dear, I'll gage my head it knows no change, be absent thirty year." XIII. The noble Moringer took cheer when thus he heard him speak, And wanders in Saint Thomas-land seven twelvemonths and a day. XIV. It was the noble Moringer within an orchard slept, When on the Baron's slumbering sense a boding vision crept; XV. "Thy tower another banner knows, thy steeds another rein, XVL It is the noble Moringer starts up and tears his beard, "Oh would that I had ne'er been born! what tidings have I heard ! To lose my lordship and my lands the less would be my care, But, God! that e'er a squire untrue should wed my Lady fair. XVII. "O good Saint Thomas, hear," he pray'd, “my patron Saint art thou, A traitor robs me of my land even while I pay my vow! My wife he brings to infamy that was so pure of name, XVIII. It was the good Saint Thomas, then, who heard his pilgrim's prayer, XIX. The Moringer he started up as one from spell unbound, "I know my father's ancient towers, the mill, the stream I know, XX. He leant upon his pilgrim staff, and to the mill he drew, XXI. The miller answer'd him again, "He knew of little news, XXII. "Of him I held the little mill which wins me living free, God rest the Baron in his grave, he still was kind to me! And when Saint Martin's tide comes round, and millers take their toll The priest that prays for Moringer shall have both cope and stole." XXIII. It was the noble Moringer to climb the hill began, And stood before the bolted gate a woe and weary man ; "Now help me, every saint in heaven that can compassion take, To gain the entrance of my hall this woful match to break." XXIV. His very knock it sounded sad, his call was sad and slow, For heart and head, and voice and hand, were heavy all with woe; XXV. "I've wander'd many a weary step, my strength is well-nigh done, I pray, for sweet Saint Thomas' sake, a pilgrim's bed and dole, XXVI. It was the stalwart warder then he came his dame before, XXVII. The Lady's gentle heart was moved, "Do up the gate," she said, XXVIII. It was the stalwart warder then undid the portal broad, It was the noble Moringer that o'er the threshold strode; “And have thou thanks, kind heaven," he said, "though from a man of sin, That the true lord stands here once more his castle-gate within." XXIX. Then up the halls paced Moringer, his step was sad and slow; XXX. Now spent was day, and feasting o'er, and come was evening hour, XXXI. Then spoke the youthful bridegroom there as he sat by the bride, XXXII. "Chill flows the lay of frozen age," 'twas thus the pilgrim sung, "Nor golden meed, nor garment gay, unlocks his heavy tongue; Once did I sit, thou bridegroom gay, at board as rich as thine, And by my side as fair a bride with all her charms was mine. XXXIII. "But time traced furrows on my face, and I grew silver-hair'd, For locks of brown, and cheeks of youth, she left this brow and beard; F F |