The Delaware Gazette

Poetry:

FOR THE DELAWARE GAZETTE.

THE DOWNFALL OF SWITZERLAND.

On the French entering Switzerland - the great birthplace of Liberty.
Oh! vengeance on the fierce, aspiring foe
That brought on thee, dear Switzerland! the woe
With which fair Freedom's chosen sons now groan,
Strike their high breasts, and send to heav'n the moan.
Countless the plaints that meet compassion's ear,
Hark - freedom's stand. Great Underwald complains
And draw from pity's breast the melting tear
And Uri sad her sluice of sorrow drains -
Thy verdant plains, fair land! and swelling grounds
Are heard to groan, while vales reflect the sounds -
Curs'd be the day when tyrants trod thy dales,
Crush'd Freedom's flower, borne on oppression's gales!
Recurs'd the day when Gallia's armour gleam'd,
And o'er thy glens her flags terrific stream'd!
Then, then began alas! the dire affray,
Untimely sending in a gloomy day
The noblest sons of Tell to deathless fame -
Theirs was the glory, the survivors' shame!
For country then, they fought - and nobly bled
For country then, they gasp'd - and sought the dead;
The tender husband then, and loving wife -
Both old and young were seen to join the strife;
The man of hoary locks to form the line.
And beardless youths in foremost ranks to shine.
Then, then, to gain this hero's deathless name
Thy sons aspir'd, and sought immortal fame:
But all, dear land! were vain - nor heroes all,
Nor patriots brave could stop thy hapless fall.
In vain thy heroes fought - in vain they sigh'd.
For freedom's cause; they toil'd in vain - and dy'd -
No more thy happy swains with looks so mild
Shall tune their pipes melodious sweet and wild;
No more thy maidens fair in groupes are seen
To join the dance, and path the verdant green.
Thy brightest days are gone - the days of yore
When freedom sway'd, but now she sways no more.
Once did fair freedom to thine eye disclose
Her buds in beauties vying with the rose,
Then did the flowers their op'ning sweets unfold
Nor felt the noon-tide heat, nor ev'ning cold.
Now fell oppression holds her wintry reign,
And blasts the beauties of the enamel'd plain.
Amid the gen'ral wreck they prostrate lie
Of aid forlorn... alas! they soon must die.

DIEGO.