| |
| O, ENTER not yon shadowy cave, | |
| Seek not the bright stars there, | |
| Though the whispering pines that o’er it wave | |
| With freshness fill the air; | |
| For there the Patriot Three, | 5 |
| In the garb of old arrayed, | |
| By their native forest-sea | |
| On a rocky couch are laid. | |
| |
| The Patriot Three that met of yore | |
| Beneath the midnight sky, | 10 |
| And leagued their hearts on Grütli shore, | |
| In the name of liberty! | |
| Now silently they sleep | |
| Amidst the hills they freed; | |
| But their rest is only deep, | 15 |
| Till their country’s hour of need. | |
| |
| They start not at the hunter’s call, | |
| Nor the Lammer-geyer’s cry, | |
| Nor the rush of a sudden torrent’s fall, | |
| Nor the Lanwine thundering by! | 20 |
| And the Alpine herdsman’s lay, | |
| To a Switzer’s heart so dear! | |
| On the wild wind floats away, | |
| No more for them to hear. | |
| |
| But when the battle-horn is blown | 25 |
| Till the Schreckhorn’s peaks reply, | |
| When the Jungfrau’s cliffs send back the tone | |
| Through their eagle’s lonely sky; | |
| When spear-heads light the lakes, | |
| When trumpets loose the snows, | 30 |
| When the rushing war-steed shakes | |
| The glacier’s mute repose; | |
| |
| When Uri’s beechen woods wave red | |
| In the burning hamlet’s light; | |
| Then from the cavern of the dead | 35 |
| Shall the sleepers wake in might! | |
| With a leap, like Tell’s proud leap, | |
| When away the helm he flung, | |
| And boldly up the steep | |
| From the flashing billow sprung! | 40 |
| |
| They shall wake beside their forest-sea, | |
| In the ancient garb they wore | |
| When they linked the hands that made us free, | |
| On the Grütli’s moonlight shore: | |
| And their voices shall be heard, | 45 |
| And be answered with a shout, | |
| Till the echoing Alps are stirred, | |
| And the signal-fires blaze out. | |
| |
| And the land shall see such deeds again | |
| As those of that proud day, | 50 |
| When Winkelried, on Sempach’s plain, | |
| Through the serried spears made way; | |
| And when the rocks came down | |
| On the dark Morgarten dell, | |
| And the crowned casques, overthrown, | 55 |
| Before our fathers fell! | |
| |
| For the Kühreihen’s notes must never sound | |
| In a land that wears the chain, | |
| And the vines on freedom’s holy ground | |
| Untrampled must remain! | 60 |
| And the yellow harvest wave | |
| For no stranger’s hand to reap, | |
| While within their silent cave | |
| The men of Grütli sleep! | |
| |
