In every stream His bounty flows, In every breeze His spirit blows,- His blessings fall in plenteous showers That teems with foliage, fruit, and flowers, If God hath made this world so fair, The Patriot's Pass-word. At the battle of Sempach, in the fourteenth century, when the Swiss were struggling for their freedom against the Austrians, who had a superior army and were better equipped, defeat to the Swiss appeared certain; until Arnold de Winkelried a native of Interwalden, after commending his family to his countrymen, rushed against the enemy's line of spears, and grasping as many of them as he could-made a breach in the enemy's line, that his friends took advantage of. Stimulated by the courage and devotion of their countryman, the Swiss gained a complete victory and secured their freedom. 660 MAKE way for liberty!" he cried, In arms the Austrian phalanx stood, A wall,-where every conscious stone Till time to dust their frames should wear : So still, so dense, the Austrians stood, Opposed to these a hovering band Peasants, whose new-found strength had broke And beat their fetters into swords, Where he who conquer'd, he who fell, And now the work of life and death Yet while the Austrians held their ground, It must not be; this day, this hour Few were the numbers she could boast, And felt as 'twere a secret known, It did depend on one indeed; Unmark'd he stood amidst the throng, Till you might see, with sudden grace, Tell where the bolt would strike, and how. But 'twas no sooner thought than done, The field was in a moment won; "Make way for liberty!" he cried, Then ran with arms extended wide, As if his dearest friend to clasp ; Ten spears he swept within his grasp; "Make way for liberty!" he cried, Their keen points cross'd from side to side; He bow'd amidst them, like a tree, And thus made way for liberty. Swift to the breach his comrades fly, "Make way for liberty!" they cry, And through the Austrian phalanx dart, As rush'd the spears through Arnold's heart, While, instantaneous as his fall, Rout, ruin, panic seized them all; An earthquake could not overthrow A city with a surer blow. Thus Switzerland again was free; Thus death made way for liberty. HON. MRS. NORTON. BORN 1808. The Arab's Farewell to his Steed. St. Pierre tells us of an Arab who possessed a beautiful mare, which the French Consul at Said (the ancient Sidon) offered to purchase. The terms were agreed upon, and the money laid down. The man, who had been driven to this course by poverty, looked first wistfully at the gold and then at his mare; and exclaimed, "To whom is it I am going to deliver thee? To Europeans! who will tie thee close, who will beat thee, and render thee miserable! Return with me, my beauty! my jewel! and rejoice the hearts of my children." As he pronounced the last words he sprung upon her back, scampered across the desert and in a few minutes was out of sight. This is the story which the Hon. Mrs. Norton has put into poetry. Y beautiful! my beautiful! that standest meekly by, With thy proudly arched and glossy neck, and dark and fiery eye; |