ALPINE SONG.
What dost thou here, brave Swiss?
Forgett'st thou thus thy native clime,
The lovely land of thy bright spring-time?
The land of thy home, with its free delights,
And fresh green valleys, and mountain-heights?
Can the stranger’s yield thee bliss?
What welcome cheers thee now?
Dar’st thou lift thine eye to gaze around?
Where are the peaks, with their snow-wreaths crown'd?
Where is the song, on the wild winds borne,
Or the ringing peal of the joyous horn,
Or the peasant's fearless brow?
But thy spirit is far away!
Where a greeting waits thee in kindred eyes,
Where the white Alps look through the sunny skies,
With the low Senn [1]cabins, and pastures free,
And the sparkling blue of the Glacier-sea,
And the summits cloth'd with day.
Back, noble child of Tell!
Back to the wild, and the silent glen,
And the frugal board of peasant-men:
Dost thou seek the friend, the lov’d one here?
—Away! not a true Swiss heart is near,
Against thine own to swell!
- ↑ * See Note (1) to "The League of the Alps."
