Thoughts of a Briton on the Subjugation of Switzerland
Two Voices are there; one is of the Sea,One of the Mountains; each a mighty voice:In both from age to age thou didst rejoice,They were thy chosen music, Liberty!There came a tyrant, and with holy gleeThou fought’st against him—but hast vainly striven:Thou from thy Alpine holds at length art driven,Where not a torrent murmurs heard by thee.—Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft;Then cleave, O cleave to that which still is left—For, high-souled Maid, what sorrow would it beThat Mountain floods should thunder as before,And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore,And neither awful Voice be heard by thee!