 | A sheaf of verse bound for the fair |  |
HOFER.
“At the place of execution he said ‘he stood before Him who created him; and standing he would yield up his spirit to Him.’ A coin which had been issued during his administration, he delivered to the corporal, with the charge to bear witness, that in his last hour, he felt himself bound by every tie of constancy to his poor father-land. Then he cried, ‘Fire!’”
I will not kneel to yield my life;
Behold me firmly stand,
As oft I've stood in deadly strife
For my dear father-land;
The cause for which I long have bled,
I cherish to the last;
God's blessing be upon it shed
When my vain life is past!
Behold me firmly stand,
As oft I've stood in deadly strife
For my dear father-land;
The cause for which I long have bled,
I cherish to the last;
God's blessing be upon it shed
When my vain life is past!
21
On Nature's ramparts I was born,
And o'er them walked elate,
My retinue the hues of dawn,
The mists my robe of state;
I will not shame my mountain birth,
Slaves only crouch to die,
Erect I'll take my leave of earth,
With clear and dauntless eye.
And o'er them walked elate,
My retinue the hues of dawn,
The mists my robe of state;
I will not shame my mountain birth,
Slaves only crouch to die,
Erect I'll take my leave of earth,
With clear and dauntless eye.
Thoughts of the eagle's lofty home,
Of stars that ever shine,
The torrent's crested arch of foam,
The darkly waving pine,
The dizzy crag, eternal snow,
Echoes that wildly roll—
With valor make my bosom glow,
And wing my parting soul.
Of stars that ever shine,
The torrent's crested arch of foam,
The darkly waving pine,
The dizzy crag, eternal snow,
Echoes that wildly roll—
With valor make my bosom glow,
And wing my parting soul.
This coin will wake my country's tears,
Fresh cast in Freedom's mould,
And dearer to my brave compeers
Than all your despot's gold;
O, let it bear the last farewell
Of one free mountaineer,
And bid the Tyrol peasants swell
Their songs of martial cheer!
Fresh cast in Freedom's mould,
And dearer to my brave compeers
Than all your despot's gold;
O, let it bear the last farewell
Of one free mountaineer,
And bid the Tyrol peasants swell
Their songs of martial cheer!
I've met ye on a fairer field,
And seen ye tamely bow;
Think not with suppliant knee I'll yield
To craven vengeance now;
Cut short my few and toilsome days,
Set loose a tyrant's thrall,
I'll die with unaverted gaze,
And conquer as I fall.
And seen ye tamely bow;
Think not with suppliant knee I'll yield
To craven vengeance now;
22
Set loose a tyrant's thrall,
I'll die with unaverted gaze,
And conquer as I fall.
Above the sense of human woes,
Loyal to native land,
Unconscious of these eager foes,
Creator, see me stand!
Free as when first I drew my breath,
Though girt with mortal ire;
My country, take a patriot's death,
My God, his spirit,—“Fire!”
Loyal to native land,
Unconscious of these eager foes,
Creator, see me stand!
Free as when first I drew my breath,
Though girt with mortal ire;
My country, take a patriot's death,
My God, his spirit,—“Fire!”
| A sheaf of verse bound for the fair | |