Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Switzerland and Austria: Vol. XVI. 1876–79.
The Battle of Sempach
By Halb Suter’T
The bees had housed in swarms
(And gray-haired peasants say that these
Betoken foreign arms),
The land was all in flame;
We knew the Archduke Leopold
With all his army came.
So hot their heart and bold,
“On Switzer carles we ’ll trample now,
And slay both young and old.”
From Zurich on the lake,
In martial pomp and fair array,
Their onward march they make.
Ye seek the mountain strand,
Nor wot ye what shall be your lot
In such a dangerous land.
Before ye farther go;
A skirmish in Helvetian hills
May send your souls to woe.”
Our shrift that he may hear?”
“The Switzer priest has ta’en the field,
He deals a penance drear.
He ’ll lay his hand of steel;
And with his trusty partisan
Your absolution deal.”
The corn was steeped in dew,
And merry maids had sickles ta’en,
When the host to Sempach drew.
Together have they joined;
The pith and core of manhood stern,
Was none cast looks behind.
And to the Duke he said,
“Yon little band of brethren true
Will meet us undismayed.”
Fierce Oxenstern replied.
“Shalt see then how the game will fare,”
The taunted knight replied.
And closing ranks amain;
The peaks they hewed from their boot-points
Might wellnigh load a wain.
“Yon handful down to hew
Will be no boastful tale to tell,
The peasants are so few.”
They prayed to God aloud,
And he displayed his rainbow fair
Against a swarthy cloud.
With courage firm and high,
And down the good Confederates bore
On the Austrian chivalry.
And toss his mane and tail;
And ball, and shaft, and crossbow bolt
Went whistling forth like hail.
The game was nothing sweet;
The boughs of many a stately tree
Lay shivered at their feet.
So close their spears they laid;
It chafed the gallant Winkelried,
Who to his comrades said:
A wife and infant son;
I leave them to my country’s care,—
This field shall soon be won.
And keep full firm array,
Yet shall my charge their order break,
And make my brethren way.”
In desperate career,
And, with his body, breast, and hand,
Bore down each hostile spear.
Six shivered in his side;
Still on the serried files he pressed,—
He broke their ranks, and died.
First tamed the lion’s mood,
And the four forest cantons freed
From thraldom by his blood.
His valiant comrades burst,
With sword, and axe, and partisan,
And hack, and stab, and thrust.
And granted ground amain,
The Mountain Bull he bent his brows,
And gored his sides again.
At Sempach in the flight,
The cloister vaults at Konig’s-field
Hold many an Austrian knight.
So lordly would he ride,
But he came against the Switzer churls,
And they slew him in his pride.
“And shall I not complain?
There came a foreign nobleman
To milk me on the plain.
Has galled the knight so sore,
That to the churchyard he is borne,
To range our glens no more.”
And fast the flight ’gan take;
And he arrived in luckless hour
At Sempach on the lake.
(His name was Hans von Rot),
“For love, or meed, or charity,
Receive us in thy boat!”
And, glad the meed to win,
His shallop to the shore he steered,
And took the flyers in.
Hans stoutly rowed his way,
The noble to his follower signed
He should the boatman slay.
The squire his dagger drew,
Hans saw his shadow in the lake,
The boat he overthrew.
He stunned them with his oar,
“Now, drink ye deep, my gentle sirs,
Yon ’ll ne’er stab boatman more.
This morning have I caught,
Their silver scales may much avail,
Their carrion flesh is naught.”
Has sought the Austrian land:
“Ah! gracious lady, evil news!
My lord lies on the strand.
His bloody corpse lies there.”
“Ah, gracious God!” the lady cried,
“What tidings of despair!”
Who sings of strife so stern,
Albert the Souter is he hight,
A burgher of Lucerne.
The night he made the lay,
Returning from the bloody spot,
Where God had judged the day.