The Unknown Student

Ha! spears on Gmunden's meadows green,
And banners on the wood-crowned height!
Rank after rank, their helmets' sheen
Sends back the morning light!
Where late the mountain maiden sang,
The battle-trumpet's brazen clang
Vibrates along the air;
And wild dragoons wheel o'er the plain.
Trampling to earth the yellow grain,
From which no more the merry swain
His harvest sheaves shall bear.

The eagle, in his sweep at morn,
To meet the monarch-sun on high,
Heard the unwonted warrior's horn
Peal faintly up the sky!
He saw the foemen, moving slow
In serried legions, far below,
Against that peasant-band,
Who dared to break the tyrant's thrall
And by the sword of Austria fall,
Or keep the ancient Right of all,
Held by their mountain-land;

They came to meet that mail-clad host
From glen and wood and ripening field;
A brave, stout arm, each man could boast--
A soul, unused to yield!
They met: a shout, prolonged and loud,
Went hovering upward with the cloud
That closed around them dun;
Blade upon blade unceasing clashed,
Spears in the onset shivering crashed,
And the red glare of cannon flashed
Athwart the smoky sun!

The mountain warriors wavered back,
Borne down by myriads of the foe,
Like pines before the torrent's track
When spring has warmed the snow.
Shall Faith and Freedom vainly call,
And Gmunden's warrior-herdsmen fall
On the red field in vain?
No! from the throng that back retired,
A student boy sprang forth inspired,
And while his words their bosoms fired,
Led on the charge again!

"And thus your free arms would ye give
So tamely to a tyrant's band,
And with the hearts of vassals live
In this, your chainless land?
The emerald lake is spread below,
And tower above, the hills of snow--
Here, field and forest lie;
This land, so glorious and so free--
Say, shall it crushed and trodden be?
Say, would ye rather bend the knee
Than for its freedom die?

"Look! yonder stand in mid-day's glare
The everlasting Alps of snow,
And from their peaks a purer air
Breathes o'er the vales below!
The Traun his brow is bent in pride--
He brooks no craven on his side--
Would ye be fettered then?
There lifts the Sonnenstein his head,
There chafes the Traun his rocky bed
And Aurach's lovely vale is spread--
Look on them and be men!

"Let, like a trumpet's sound of fire,
These stir your souls to manhood's part--
The glory of the Alps inspire
Each yet unconquered heart!
For, through their unpolluted air
Soars fresher up the grateful prayer
From freemen, unto God;--
A blessing on those mountains old!
On