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| IN July, when the bees swarmed thick upon the linden tops, | |
| And farmers gazed with pride and joy upon their ripening crops, | |
| The watchmen on our tall church towers, looking towards Willisow, | |
| Saw the stacked barley in a flame and the wheat-fields in a glow. | |
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| For Archduke Leopold had come from Zurich by the lake, | 5 |
| With lance, and bow, and banner spread, a dire revenge to take. | |
| On Monday morning, when the dew lay bright upon the corn, | |
| Each man of Sempach blew alarm upon his mountain horn. | |
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| The young and old from fair Lucerne gathered to bar the way, | |
| The reapers threw their sickles down, and ran to join the fray: | 10 |
| We knelt and prayed to heaven for strength, crying to God aloud; | |
| And lo! a rainbow rising shone against a thunder-cloud. | |
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| Burghers of Berne, the lads of Schweitz, and Unterwalden’s best, | |
| Warriors of Uri, strong as bulls, were there among the rest; | |
| The oldest of our mountain priests had come to fight,—not pray, | 15 |
| Our women only kept at home upon that battle-day. | |
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| The shepherds, sturdy wrestlers with the grim mountain bear, | |
| The chamois hunters, lithe and swift, mingle together there; | |
| Rough boatmen from the mountain lakes, and fishermen by scores; | |
| The children only had been left to guard the nets and oars. | 20 |
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| The herdsmen joined us from their huts on the far mountain-side, | |
| Where cow-bells chimed among the pines, and far above in pride | |
| The granite peaks rose soaring up in snowy pinnacles, | |
| Past glaciers’ ever-gaping jaws and vultures’ citadels. | |
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| The citizens of Zurich town under their banners stood, | 25 |
| Their burly lances bleak and bare as any winter wood; | |
| Geneva sent her archers stout, and swordsmen not a few, | |
| And over the brave men of Berne their great town banner blew. | |
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| How fierce we ran with partisan and axe and spear and sword, | |
| With flail and club and shrieking horns, upon that Austrian horde! | 30 |
| But they stood silent in the sun, mocking the Switzer bear, | |
| Their helmets crested, beaked, and fanged, like the wild beasts that they were. | |
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| Like miners digging iron ore from some great mountain heart, | |
| We strove to hew and rend and cleave that hill of steel apart; | |
| But clamped like statues stood the knights in their spiked phalanx strong, | 35 |
| Though our Swiss halberds and our swords hewed fiercely at the throng. | |
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| Hot, sharp, and thick our arrows fell upon their helmet crests, | |
| Keen on their visors’ glaring bars, and sharp upon their breasts; | |
| Fierce plied our halberds at the spears, that thicker seemed to grow: | |
| The more we struck, more boastfully the banners seemed to blow. | 40 |
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| The Austrians, square and close locked up, stood firm with threatening spears, | |
| Only the sterner when our bolts flew thick about their ears; | |
| Our drifts of arrows blinding fell, and nailed the mail to breast, | |
| But e’en the dead men as they dropped were ramparts to the rest. | |
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| With furnace heat the red sun shone upon that wall of steel, | 45 |
| And crimsoned every Austrian knight from helmet unto heel. | |
| They slew their horses where they stood, and shortened all their spears, | |
| Then back to back, like boars at bay, they mocked our angry cheers. | |
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| Till Winkelried stepped forth, and said, knitting his rugged brow, | |
| “Out on ye, men of Zurich town! go back and tend your plough; | 50 |
| Sluggards of Berne, go hunt and fish, when danger is not nigh; | |
| See now how Unterwalden taught her hardy sons to die!” | |
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| Then out he rushed with head bent low; his body, breast, and hands | |
| Bore down a sheaf of spears, and made a pathway for our bands. | |
| Four lances splintered on his brow, six shivered in his side, | 55 |
| But still he struggled fiercely on, and, shouting “Victory!” died. | |
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| Then on that broken flying rout, we Swiss, rejoicing, rushed, | |
| With sword and mace and partisan that struck and stabbed and crushed; | |
| Their banners beaten to the earth, and all their best men slain, | |
| The Austrians threw away their shields and fled across the plain. | 60 |
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| And thus our Switzerland was saved, upon that summer’s day, | |
| And Sempach saw rejoicing men returning from the fray. | |
| As we bore home brave Winkelried a rainbow spanned our track, | |
| But where the Austrian rabble fled a thunder-storm rolled black. | |
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