even then expected. The resolution of the lover was taken ere he had finished the letter. Instructing the messenger to await his return, he led the trembling, almost fainting Bertha toward her father's house. Arnold had just then returned with his son from attending the celebration of the anniversary of Morgarten. "Arnold of Winkelried," said Eyloff, "I depart from Switzerland this moment. I know not why my sovereign is thus imperative, but as a loyal subject I have but to obey. It is now no time for slow and solemn ceremony. | Behold this maiden. I love her, I am beloved; will you that I take her as my bride to Austria?" The sinking girl clung for support to her lover, like the graceful ivy round the stately oak. Arnold for an instant hesitated, but it was only for an instant. "Young knight," he replied, "you have gained the love of this maiden and the esteem of her parents, yet cannot she now be your wife. Austria is about to be the enemy of Switzerland. Would you that she should abjure her country and her father, or could you be content to share her divided heart? Let Leopold of Austria be just let the storm that hangs over this land be dispelled by him who raised it, or be broken and dispersed on the peaks of yonder Alps, before an Austrian claims as his bride a daughter of Helvetia." The decisions of Arnold of Winkelried were known to be irrevocable; yet love emboldened Eyloff. "Leopold is my friend," he said; "let me present Bertha before him as my wife, in the power of her beauty and her innocence: let the virtues of your daughter plead for her country." "The daughter of Arnold must not be a suppliant at a tyrant's feet," replied the Swiss. "Give me your promise then," resumed the youth, "if my plea prevail with Leopold, and war is averted from your happy vales, that Bertha shall be my reward and let her be betrothed to me here in the sight of yonder glorious heaven." : "Return the friend of free Helvetia and she is yours," replied Arnold; and, kneeling on the verdant carpet, as the sun poured his last beams over the magnificent temple of nature, the lovers were affianced and blessed beneath the blue and smiling sky. "If not before the snow fills your valleys," said Eyloff to Bertha, as they stood on the margin of the lake, "when the first flower of spring appears, expect me.' "Our roses bloom in March, sometimes," whispered Bertha with a faint smile, as they separated. The winter came on, and the snow lay on the hills and filled the valleys. Nature reposed in her icy fastness, and even the rumours of war were no longer heard. But at length the snows melted from the sloping hills. The higher mountains, bellowing in their inmost cells, began to be rocked by loud and tremendous shocks, as the glaciers opened their clefts, fearful, yet beautiful, in purple and emerald hues; while, forced by the pent-up winds, showers of ice were hurled far through the air. The freed mountain torrents rushed into the vales, and the dreaded lavange came thundering down. Everything in nature told that the genial season had arrived and was fast passing onward; yet Eyloff came not: the perils of travelling were over, for the pines had shaken from their branches the last dust of snow; yet still he came not: the first flower of spring, how anxiously expected-how fondly welcomed-how dearly cherished, had budded, and bloomed, and withered on its stem; and yet the maiden pined in her loneliness. In the meantime the political agitations of the Waldstetten were revived, and everything seemed tending to a sanguinary crisis. The people of the district of Ethlibuch, oppressed past sufferance by the tyrant Thornberg, the vassal of Austria, had, in the month of March, thrown themselves on the protection of Lucerne; and the haughty baron had dared to seize and inflict an ignominious death upon the negotiators of the treaty on the part of Ethlibuch. Leopold was already stationed at Kybourg, in the canton of Zurich, ready to support with his troops the tyranny of his bailiffs and his vassals; and it was at length made evident that the hereditary patron and protector of the Waldstetten contemplated no less than its entire subjugation. Undismayed, the stern republicans prepared for the conflict. In the several cantons of the Confederation the general assembly, or Landsgemeind, was summoned, where, in the April following, the knights and burghers appeared in their arms, and declared open war against Thornberg and his adherents. It was but a short time before this period that more than fifty imperial towns in Swabia and Franconia had solicited admission into the Helvetic League; yet now, so terrible was held the enmity of Leopold and his ferocious followers, that the petty towns and states around became eager to be the foremost in manifesting their hostility to devoted Switzerland. The roads from Wirtemberg and Schaffhausen were crowded with their messengers; declarations and defiances poured in upon | the Landsgemeind faster than they could te read; and within a few days the Eight Cantons numbered among the auxiliaries of their foe more than two hundred states, princes, and bishops. The four ancient cantons of the lake took the field without delay, under the avoyer or mayor of Lucerne, the supreme military authority in Switzerland being always exercised by the chief officer of the state; and while the inferior nobles of the Lion League kept in check the powerful barons along the course of the Rhine, assailed, and carried, and destroyed the feudal strongholds of their most immediate and dangerous enemies. It was at this eventful point of time, when Leopold might hourly be expected on his march from Kybourg, and the matrons and maidens of the land sat solitary in their deserted dwellings. The night was far spent, yet Bertha and her mother still remained gazing anxiously out upon the darkness, when suddenly a small dark object moved swiftly towards them, across the silent lake. It was a boat! Can it be Arnold returned from Zurich? That is impossible; for the army is there; and there also must be Arnold. The bosom of Bertha swelled almost to bursting: she spoke not; she scarcely breathed. This was the anniversary of her first meeting with Eyloff, and a thousand undefined hopes and wishes rushed to her heart. And now the figure of a man throws itself from the boat almost before it touches the shore-he flies up the pathway, and in an in stant, Eyloff is at the feet of Bertha. into her chair— 'Eyloff," she said, "come you not till you bring war and desolation with you? Alas! Eyloff, the flowers of spring are all withered, even like the hopes of our love." Beloved Bertha," Eyloff answered, "it is true my efforts to avert the calamity have had no other effect than to draw upon myself my sovereign's displeasure. But even his com "Alas!" said the maiden, "call me not by that title, Eyloff, since the condition of our union can never be fulfilled." 'Never shall woman but you, Bertha, hear that title from the lips of Eyloff: and may we not yet cherish hope, dear Bertha? Should your worst fears be confirmed, and Leopold's arms prove successful, may not your Eyloff still have the glory of shielding the house of Winkelried?" "And think you that Arnold of Winkelried will survive his country's death? And think you that his daughter-the daughter of a inartyred patriot-could ever-O Heaven!" she cried, and paused in convulsive agony at the picture her imagination drew. "My wife, my beloved Bertha," cried the youth, on his knees before her, clasping her cold hands in his, "hear me and believe me: on the honour of a knight I swear, that if Eyloff goes into the fight it shall be but to protect, to save your father." "I have a son, too, in arms," observed the matron, who had not before spoken, as her fixed and noble countenance became slightly convulsed. "Is the brave boy too there?" asked Eyloff. "Madam," he added, ardently seizing her hand, my brother." At this moment a light appeared upon the most distant mountain towards the north; bright and portentous beacon. added, with the firmness of a Roman matron. the eye was turned, the signal fires were seen In a few moments, in whatever direction to blaze from the summits of the mountains that inclosed the lakes; the horn sounded loud and shrill from every hill and valley, and the quick beat of the alarm-bell, from town and village, came fearfully on the gale. "The Landsthurm is summoned; the country mands alone could not have kept me from you; will be up in mass," said the matron; "each and until he summoned his knights to the pass and defile will be guarded; and your refield, I was deprived of my personal liberty; turn will become impossible." he is now in march through Zurich; and, behold, I am here." O, Eyloff!" exclaimed Bertha, at once awakening to the perils that environed both the person of her lover and his reputation as a The terrified Bertha joined her mother in vain, until, interrupting him in his torrent of urging the knight's departure; but it was in prayers and protestations, the tender maiden knight, "why, why are you here? Know you broken love and confidence: it was then Eyloff blessed him with a full assurance of her un not the dangers that encompass you?" would I not encounter!" his body and disappeared. The morning dawned on the most eventful day that Switzerland had known for nearly a century. Leopold had passed the walls of Zurich, where the confederates had hastened to meet him; and, directing his march on Lucerne, halted before the town of Sempach, which lay in his route, intending first to chastise the rebels of that place. The young knights, among whom a descendant of the tyrant Gesler was conspicuous, as they pranced gaily around the walls, taunted the honest burghers in the levity of their hearts, exhibiting, with bitter jests, the fetters meant for their magistrates. And as the serfs and followers of the army were laying waste the fields of grain about the town, the youthful De Reinach called to the avoyer to send the reapers their breakfast. "The confederates are preparing it," replied the calm avoyer. The In was in effect as the avoyer said. Swiss force, penetrating the Austrian's design, and leaving Zurich to be defended by its own citizens against the troops detached by Leopold, had by a different route and a rapid march, and joined by additional numbers, already gained the spot, and now occupied a station in a forest near the Lake of Sempach. Leopold, in the pride of power and youth, appeared at the head of a gendarmerie of full four thousand knights of approved valour, each attended by his esquire, and clad in complete steel, gorgeous and glittering in the panoply of war, and mounted on chargers of blood and fire; the host of burghers, of vassals, and of mercenaries followed on foot their respective avoyers, or barons, or chieftains, to the field. Opposed to this formidable array were but little more than a thousand Helvetians, from Uri and Underwalden, Schwytz and Lucerne, with trifling contingents from Glarus and Zug. Their weapons were chiefly the short sword, and halbert, and massy club studded with iron. Some wielded the espadron or heavy two-handed sword, others the battle-axe or ancient cross-bow. Not a few of the weapons had been used at the field of Morgarten, and the descendants of the heroes of that fight, who now bore them, felt themselves invincible. The shield of the Helvetians was simply a board fastened to the left arm, but some had corselet and cap, and even cuisse, the spoils and trophies of former victories. Each canton followed its peculiar leader and banneret, the avoyer of Lucerne commanding in chief. But the banner of Berne was not at Sempach. Her troops were stationed, as a corps of observation, two leagues from the field, towards Lucerne. When, in justification of her neutrality, Berne pleaded her truce with Austria, she could not have recollected that, in her utmost need, the Waldstetten had formerly sent their soldiers to her rescue, and enabled the immortal Rodolph d'Erlach to achieve the victory of Laupen. But has not retributive justice visited Berne? More than four hundred years after this event, when Laupen was again the post of danger, and Berne was in peril, and a descendant of the same Rodolph again defended her, those same Waldstetters held themselves aloof, as a corps of observation. Berne fell before the ferocious Gaul, and the gallant but unfortunate D'Erlach may have sighed as he remembered that the banner of Berne was not at Sempach. It was now near the hour of noon of a hot and sultry day in July; the young nobles, sweltering in their armour, became impatient for the onset, and the counsel of old John de Hasenberg, to wait till the corps came up from Zurich, was treated with scorn and scurrile jests. "We have waited too long, old heart-ofhare," said they. "Give but the word," they added, to the duke, "and you shall see your knights alone exterminate yon ragged host of rebels." "Be it as you say," replied the duke; "dismount, form, and prepare for the charge." In a moment the steel of the knights rang as they vaulted to the ground; their esquires led their chargers to the rear; and a phalanx of knights was formed, armed with pikes, whose length enabled them, even from the fourth rank, to prove effective. Such was the order of their front. A few archers formed on each wing; and the rest of the troops, with their heavy arquebuses and battering engines, intended for sieges, took post in the rear. And now the confederates, debouching from the forest, saw, from the hill they occupied, that they no longer had to apprehend the dangerous charge of cavalry, and resolved to take immediate advantage of the ill-advised movement of their enemy. But first proclamation was made at the head of each detachment, bidding every soldier who felt himself unable to cope with four adversaries, to depart without censure. None leaving the ranks, the troops next fell upon their knees, in conformity to ancient usage, and uttered a short but fervent prayer to Heaven; while Leopold was dubbing knights upon the field, and the nobles cut off the long, turned-up points of their cavalry boots, and locked their helms, and fixed down their visors. Firm and compact, with no part of their bodies assailable, the Austrians now moved on, to the music of their own clashing armour, an irresistible iron mass, bristling with spears. | The confederates, formed in the shape of a wedge, with small corps of bowmen thrown out in advance of their flanks, and directing their attack with intent to pierce the enemy's centre, came down the hill with loud shouts. Amidst a flight of arrows from the several wings, the two armies met midway on the rise of the hill with a tremendous shock. The gallant Gundelinguen, the avoyer of Lucerne, who with the banneret led the advance, in vain endeavoured to break the Austrian front; in vain were many of the lances of the knights shivered by the Helvetians' massy clubs, they were instantly supplied from the ranks in the rear, and the battalia remained unshaken. After the most obstinate and deadly conflict, the Swiss began to give ground, while the Austrian gendarmerie, with their iron heels trampling over the bodies of the brave avoyer and more than a hundred of his companions, who had fallen at their posts, moved on steadily and unbroken. The banner of Lucerne was in their hands; they had forced the confederates back to the plain, and now fought on equal ground: the foremost Swiss were everywhere falling, pierced by their lances, without the possibility of reaching their assailants, while each moment the Austrian reserve from Zurich might be expected in their rear. All seemed lost; the fate of Switzerland hung on the issue of a few short moments. At this instant a voice was heard in the republican ranks: "Open," it cried, "open, confederates, and give me way." A leader of the contingent of Underwalden rushed to the front; no weapon was in his hands, nor shield upon his arm; he had torn the corselet from his breast, and the fire of the devoted patriot flamed in his eye. "Comrades," he cried, "I go to open your way to the enemy-protect my wife and children." Alone he rushed towards the presented lances, extending wide his arms, then, with herculean strength, closing them again around as many as he could grasp, he directed their united points into his body. With a shout like thunder the confederates poured through the temporary breaches he had effected and over the prostrate body of their compatriot. The tide of battle was instantly turned. The Austrian knights, cased in heavy steel, were unable to turn, and fell before the fury of the athletic and unencumbered mountaineers, who, with their axes and maces, clove and battered their crowned crests, on right and left, till they had hewn their way into the centre of the unwieldy phalanx. Havoc raged in every quarter. Many of the nobles met an ignoble fate, and died without a blow, overthrown and trampled to death in the mêlée, or suffocated in their armour. With others, the severed casque, the wide-gaping cuirass or habergeon, and the crushed helmet, bespoke the deadly force with which the Swiss weapons were wielded. The flower of the Austrian nobility lay extended on the field; the mercenaries and vassals in the rear had mounted and fled; yet still the gallant few sustained the fight. Twice had the ducal banner of Austria stooped, as its devoted bearers fell. Leopold, disdaining to survive the ruin of the day, seized the standard of his house, and, as he received his death wound, waved it over his head and sunk in death, enshrouded in its folds. The conflict was at an end. The pious confederates knelt on the bloody field, in devout thanksgiving to Him who gave the victory, and returned to their respective cantons laden with spoil, and fifteen captured banners of their enemy. The remains of the ill-fated Leopold were taken from beneath the pile of devoted knights who had perished in defending his corse from insult, and conveyed with the bodies of many of his nobles to the abbey of Konegsfelden, where their warlike effigies still frown along the walls. The brave avoyer and his gallant townsmen, who had fallen at his side, sleep in the chapel raised over them in their native Lucerne, where are still to be seen, together with the coat of mail that Leopold wore, the iron collar intended by the invader for the neck of the avoyer, and the banner of the town, stained with the pure blood of that heroic citizen. Such was the battle of Sempach, so glorious to Helvetia, so disastrous to her invader; in which were extinguished many of the noblest houses of Austria-in which were crushed for ever her hopes of conquest, and that secured for four hundred years the independence of Switzerland. Is it asked, where in the fray fought Arnold of Winkelried? Is he not already recognized in the immortal martyr of his country's freedom? And where was the husband of Bertha, the gay and gallant Eyloff! Alas! his place was with the Austrian warriors, in the front of the fight, and at the moment when he would have perished for the father of his bride, his lance pierced that father's heart. Nor did the horror of the scene close here; the son of Arnold was the first to follow his brave fatherand the husband of Bertha fell by her bro hand. The abbey of Eghelberg hid fo t 4 other's the world the sorrows of the heart-stricken widow and daughter of the knight of Underwalden; but, in the male line, his noble strain was long manifested; and, in the sixteenth century, at the field of Marignano, called by distinction, even at that day, the Battle of the Giants, it was an Arnold of Winkelried who led the small Swiss advance against the fifty thousand French, under the young hero Francis I. The Swiss of the Waldstetten are not an enthusiastic people; nor, as simple and stern republicans, have they felt willing to make gods of their heroic citizens; and when, in the fervour of revolutionary feeling, a distinguished foreigner asked permission to erect a monument to William Tell, the magistrates of Uri answered, "No; we need not monuments to remind us of our ancestors." Yet Tell has his chapel in Uri, as Arnold in Underwalden. Every spot associated with their actions is hallowed in the remembrance of the Helvetians. Their virtues and heroism are their theme and their example. They live in the hearts of their grateful countrymen, and, without statues or gorgeous monuments, are still venerated and distinguished by a nation of heroes-by a people of whom it has been said, that, for five hundred years there has not been known among them an individual instance of cowardice or treason. MY MOTHER'S GRAVE. BY THOMAS AIRD. O rise and sit in soft attire! A crown of brightest stars to thee! How did thy spirit wait for me, That I would stand 'twixt thee and death! Then tarry on thy bowing shore, Till I have ask'd thy sorrows o'er. I came not, and I cry to save I'd tell thee all my youth has doneAnd ask of things to choose and shun; And smile at all thy needless fears, But bow before thy solemn tears. Come, walk with me, and see fair earth, What right have I to break thy rest? Men wonder till I pass away, O for life's power! that I might see I might have lived, and thou on earth, The wind which lifts the streaming tree- I feel a hand untwist the chain Because that I of thee was part, Because I know there is not one To think of me, as thou hast done My punishment-that I was far |