Man may not fetter, nor ocean tame It hath touch'd the sails, and their canvass rolls The slave and his master alike are gone.- The child of thy bosom !-and lo! a brand And her veil flung back, and her free, dark hair Never might shame on that bright head be, Her blood was the Greek's, and hath made her free. Proudly she stands, like an Indian bride On the pyre with the holy dead beside; But a shriek from her mother hath caught her ear, One moment more, and her hands are clasp'd, Her sinking knee unto Heaven is bow'd, And her last look rais'd through the smoke's dim And her lips as in prayer for her pardon move- *Originally published, as well as several other of these Records, in the New Monthly Magazine. THE SWITZER'S WIFE. Werner Stauffacher, one of the three confederates of the field of Grütli, had been alarmed by the envy with which the Austrian Bailiff, Landenberg, had noticed the appearance of wealth and comfort which distinguished his dwelling. It was not, however, until roused by the entreaties of his wife, a woman who seems to have been of an heroic spirit, that he was induced to deliberate with his friends upon the measures by which Switzerland was finally delivered. Wer solch ein Herz an seinen Busen drückt, Der kann für Herd und Hof mit Freuden fechten. IT was the time when children bound to meet Their father's homeward step from field or hill, And when the herd's returning bells are sweet In the Swiss valleys, and the lakes grow still, And the last note of that wild horn swells by, Which haunts the exile's heart with melody. |