THE

SORROWS OF SWITZERLAND.

THE SORROWS OF SWITZERLAND.[188]

PART FIRST.

Why art thou come, man of despair and blood!
To these green vales and streams, o'erhung with wood;
These hills, where, far from life's discordant throng,
The lonely goat-maid chaunts her matin song;
This sylvan glen, where age in peace reclines,
Soothed by the whisper of his native pines;
Where, in the twilight of his closing days,
Upon the glimmering lake he loves to gaze;
And, like his life, sees on the shadowy flood,
The still, sweet eve descending! Man of blood, 10
Break not his holy musings! Innocence
And peace these vales inhabit. Hie thee hence
To the waste wilderness, the mournful main,
To caves where silence and deep stillness reign,
Where God's eye only can the gloom pervade;
And shroud thy visage in their dreariest shade!
Or, if these scenes, so beauteous, may impart
A momentary softness to thine heart,
Let nature plead, plead for a guiltless land,
Ere yet thou lift'st the desolating brand; 20
Ere yet thou bidst the peaceful echoes swell 21
With havoc's shouts and many a mingled yell!
Pause yet a moment! By the beard
Of him whose eyes to heaven are reared;
By her who frantic lifts her helpless hand;
By those poor little ones, that speechless stand;
If thou hast nature in thee, oh relent,
Nor crush the lowly shed of virtue and content!
No golden shrines can tempt thy plunder here,
No jealous castles their dark turrets rear. 30
Peeping at dawn among the mountain vines,
The village pastor's simple mansion shines
Beneath the tower, the music of whose bells
Soft o'er the azure lake each Sabbath swells.
No lighted halls that blaze till morn reply
To sounds of proud, voluptuous revelry;
But one sweet pipe, by lingering lover played,
Cheers the dim valley as the day-tints fade;
Whilst, 'mid the rocks, the torrents, and the trees,
Her little world, with pride, affection sees. 40
Survey the prospect well. Soldier! dost thou
(Thy blood-red plumage waving o'er thy brow)
Bid the poor villagers, who in the shed
Of their forefathers eat their virtuous bread,
To hard oppression bend the prostrate knee,
Or learn benevolence and love from thee!
And dost thou talk of freedom