 | Poems by Two Brothers |  |
77
SWISS SONG
I Love St. Gothard's head of snows,
That shoots into the sky,
Where, yet unform'd, in grim repose
Ten thousand avalanches lie.
That shoots into the sky,
Where, yet unform'd, in grim repose
Ten thousand avalanches lie.
I love Lucerne's transparent lake,
And Jura's hills of pride,
Whence infant rivers, gushing, break
With small and scanty tide.
And Jura's hills of pride,
Whence infant rivers, gushing, break
With small and scanty tide.
And thou, Mont Blanc! thou mighty pile
Of crags and ice and snow;
The Gallic foes in wonder smile
That we should love thee so!
Of crags and ice and snow;
The Gallic foes in wonder smile
That we should love thee so!
78
But we were nurst within thy breast,
And taught to brave thy storms:
Thy tutorage was well confest
Against the Frank in arms—
And taught to brave thy storms:
Thy tutorage was well confest
Against the Frank in arms—
The Frank who basely, proudly came
To rend us from our home,
With flashing steel and wasting flame.—
How could he, dare he come?
To rend us from our home,
With flashing steel and wasting flame.—
How could he, dare he come?
C. T.
| Poems by Two Brothers | |