 | The Anniversaries |  |
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July 9.
THE BATTLE OF SEMPACH.
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This final and decisive triumph of Swiss liberty over the hereditary hostility of the House of Hapsburg was won on this day, 1386, when 1300 Switzers overcame the Austrian host under Duke Leopold, who with a multitude of knights and nobles fell in the battle.
O! not from every field of death, sweet-soulëd Pilgrim, turn!
Not o'er each ringing battle-cry, each fiery onset mourn!
Nay, linger with enamoured feet where Freedom won the fight!
Swell, swell the cheerful trumpet-blast, when Victory went with Right!
Not o'er each ringing battle-cry, each fiery onset mourn!
Nay, linger with enamoured feet where Freedom won the fight!
Swell, swell the cheerful trumpet-blast, when Victory went with Right!
But take thy fullest cheer amidst the Switzer's sacred clime;
Yes, gather from each glorious spot a twofold joy sublime!
O lingerer by that gleaming lake, there Freedom kept her own!
O climber of those awful heights, thou sittest on her throne!
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O lingerer by that gleaming lake, there Freedom kept her own!
O climber of those awful heights, thou sittest on her throne!
They came from near, they came from far, those barons fierce and bold;
No belted knight, no mailëd lord abode within his hold;
Around Duke Leopold they gleamed, a fiery stream of spears,
To wreak the Hapsburg's hoarded wrath on the free mountaineers.
No belted knight, no mailëd lord abode within his hold;
Around Duke Leopold they gleamed, a fiery stream of spears,
To wreak the Hapsburg's hoarded wrath on the free mountaineers.
Thick waved the corn, fierce blazed the sun through that long Summer-day,
As 'midst the fields, beside the lake, near Sempach's wall they lay.
Scarce breathëd the soft summer air those woodlands green among,
Astir with more than leafy life, with more than wingëd song.
As 'midst the fields, beside the lake, near Sempach's wall they lay.
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Astir with more than leafy life, with more than wingëd song.
Forth streamëd from those woodlands fair the Switzers calm and stern;
On came the shepherds of the Alps, the burghers of Lucerne;
Nor Unterwald her bravest spared, nor Schweitz her mighty men;
On sprang the Mountain Bull; why kept the Bear within his den?
On came the shepherds of the Alps, the burghers of Lucerne;
Nor Unterwald her bravest spared, nor Schweitz her mighty men;
On sprang the Mountain Bull; why kept the Bear within his den?
Ah, scant the heroic band! but lo! no foe against them rode,
Down sprang each mailëd knight, no steed Duke Leopold bestrode:
Lance laid by lance, shield locked to shield, stood the pround cavaliers,
A flaming wall of steel behind a bristling hedge of spears.
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Lance laid by lance, shield locked to shield, stood the pround cavaliers,
A flaming wall of steel behind a bristling hedge of spears.
Those craftsmen 'neath no helmet gleamed, no mail those shepherds clad;
Yet on the mailëd host they gazed all fearless and all glad:
Their hands held fast the selfsame swords Morgarten's victors swayed,
Glowed in their hearts the selfsame fire those conquerors strong that made.
Yet on the mailëd host they gazed all fearless and all glad:
Their hands held fast the selfsame swords Morgarten's victors swayed,
Glowed in their hearts the selfsame fire those conquerors strong that made.
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Then lowly knelt those shepherds down their fathers' prayer to pray,
That He the Lord of Hosts would guard the Fatherland to-day:
From white-robed priests in solemn fanes, ne'er sounded prayer more meet;
That incense rose from battle-field, yet it ascended sweet.
That He the Lord of Hosts would guard the Fatherland to-day:
From white-robed priests in solemn fanes, ne'er sounded prayer more meet;
That incense rose from battle-field, yet it ascended sweet.
Scorn quivered from each Austrian lip, blazed in each Austrian eye;
“Ha! ha! for grace these peasants kneel; for life these rebels cry.”
O knights, forbear that scornful gaze, that shout disdainful spare!
They kneel for grace—ye will not speed the better for that prayer.
“Ha! ha! for grace these peasants kneel; for life these rebels cry.”
O knights, forbear that scornful gaze, that shout disdainful spare!
They kneel for grace—ye will not speed the better for that prayer.
Uprose the Switzers from their knees, their cheerful war-cry rang,
As fiercely on that mailëd host the good Confederates sprang.
But ah! in vain their halberts smote, their javelins vainly flew;
What might can pierce that deadly hedge, that flaming wall break through?
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But ah! in vain their halberts smote, their javelins vainly flew;
What might can pierce that deadly hedge, that flaming wall break through?
Fast flowed their blood, yet scatheless stood that mailëd, bright array;
O Heaven! shall the dear Father Land become the Hapsburg's prey?
Ah deep the passion of those hearts, the soreness of that need,
When from the ranks of Unterwald strode Arnold Winkelried.
O Heaven! shall the dear Father Land become the Hapsburg's prey?
Ah deep the passion of those hearts, the soreness of that need,
When from the ranks of Unterwald strode Arnold Winkelried.
O! meetly dwelt that noble heart within that mighty frame;
O! well that deep, full ringing voice, these fateful words became:
“O dear Confederates, to your hearts my wife, my children take!
I go these stubborn ranks to pierce, your conquering way to make.”
O! well that deep, full ringing voice, these fateful words became:
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I go these stubborn ranks to pierce, your conquering way to make.”
Right on the foe he ran, six spears in his strong arms he grasped;
Right to his heart their deadly points as his own babes he clasped;
He fell and down those lances bore, and back those bucklers bent;
In that grim hedge there yawned a gap,—in that dread wall a rent!
Right to his heart their deadly points as his own babes he clasped;
He fell and down those lances bore, and back those bucklers bent;
In that grim hedge there yawned a gap,—in that dread wall a rent!
O breach sublime! O fiery rush! burst the Confederates through!
No more those halberts vainly struck; O! now they smote and slew;
Each moment wider waxed the breach! rocked, reeled the rent array!
Woe, woe unto those cumbered knights upon that summer-day!
No more those halberts vainly struck; O! now they smote and slew;
Each moment wider waxed the breach! rocked, reeled the rent array!
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They fainted 'neath that armour bright, beneath that fierce, full sun;
They may not answer stroke with stroke, they may not slaughter shun.
Baron on baron, knight on knight, in gory heaps they lay;
Those Switzer brands will drink their fill of noble blood to-day!
They may not answer stroke with stroke, they may not slaughter shun.
Baron on baron, knight on knight, in gory heaps they lay;
Those Switzer brands will drink their fill of noble blood to-day!
But still above that fatal field the Austrian standard rose,
Still fiercely fought Duke Leopold amidst those thronging foes;
He waved it high, he held it fast, till Death unclasped his hand,
And through and through that princely heart had passed the shepherd's brand.
Still fiercely fought Duke Leopold amidst those thronging foes;
He waved it high, he held it fast, till Death unclasped his hand,
And through and through that princely heart had passed the shepherd's brand.
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And round him mighty barons gasped, and noble knights lay dead;
Mail clad each piercëd breast, a crest was cloven with each head.
Woe, woe unto each lordly hall with news of Sempach came,
And o'er that day wept long and sore full many a high-born dame.
Mail clad each piercëd breast, a crest was cloven with each head.
Woe, woe unto each lordly hall with news of Sempach came,
And o'er that day wept long and sore full many a high-born dame.
But Heavenward from that gory field glad eyes the conquerors raised,
Nor left their Winkelried unblessed, nor left their Lord unpraised.
Long ages have not hushed the song, nor worn the joy away;
Still sweet to Switzer hearts returns this gladsome, glorious day.
Nor left their Winkelried unblessed, nor left their Lord unpraised.
Long ages have not hushed the song, nor worn the joy away;
Still sweet to Switzer hearts returns this gladsome, glorious day.
But not with them the gladness stays; sounds not the story sweet
Where'er a righteous soul abides, where'er glad freemen meet?
O English bard! through England's heart the joy of Sempach spread,
And hallow to her inmost soul the name of Winkelried!
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O English bard! through England's heart the joy of Sempach spread,
And hallow to her inmost soul the name of Winkelried!
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