And a sudden rising breeze Bore across the moaning seas To his ear their thrilling strain :

"There are songs in Odin's Hall,
For the brave, ere night to fall!
Doth the great sun hide his ray?
He must bring a wrathful day!
Sleeps the falchion in its sheath ?----
Swords must do the work of death!
Regner!-sea-king!-thee we call !—
There is joy in Odin's Hall.

"At the feast and in the song,
Thou shalt be remember'd long!
By the green isles of the flood
Thou hast left thy track in blood!
On the earth and on the sea,
There are those will speak of thee!
'Tis enough-the war-god's call—
There is mead in Odin's Hall!

"Regner! tell thy fair-hair'd bride
She must slumber at thy side!
Tell the brother of thy breast
Ev'n for him thy grave hath rest!
Tell the raven-steed which bore thee,
When the wild wolf fled before thee,
He too with his lord must fall-
There is room in Odin's Hall!

"Lo! the mighty sun looks forth—
Arm! thou leader of the north!
Lo! the mists of twilight fly-
We must vanish, thou must die!
By the sword and by the spear,
By the hand that knows not fear,
Sea-king! nobly shalt thou fall !—
There is joy in Odin's Hall!”

There was arming heard on land and wave, When afar the sunlight spread,

And the phantom forms of the tide-worn cave With the mists of morning fled.

But at eve, the kingly hand Of the battle-axe and brand, Lay cold on a pile of dead!

THE CAVERN OF THE THREE TELLS.

SWISS TRADITION.

The three founders of the Helvetic Confederacy are thought to sleep in a cavern near the lake of Lucerne. The herdsmen call them the Three Tells; and say that they lie there in their antique garb, in quiet slumber; and when Switzerland is in her utmost need, they will awaken and regain the liberties of the land. See Quarterly Review, No. 44.

The Grütli, where the confederates held their nightly meetings, is a meadow on the shore of the Lake of Lucerne, or Lake of the Forest-cantons, here called the Forest-sea.

OH! enter not yon shadowy cave,
Seek not the bright spars there,

Though the whispering pines that o'er it wave,

With freshness fill the air:

For there the Patriot Three,

In the garb of old array'd,

By their native Forest-sea

On a rocky couch are laid.

The Patriot Three that met of yore

Beneath the midnight sky,

And leagued their hearts on the Grütli shore,
In the name of liberty!

Now silently they sleep

Amidst the hills they freed;
But their rest is only deep,

Till their country's hour of need.

They start not at the hunter's call,
Nor the Lammer-geyer's cry,
Nor the rush of a sudden torrent's fall,
Nor the Lauwine thundering by!

And the Alpine herdsman's lay,

To a Switzer's heart so dear!
On the wild wind floats away,
No more for them to hear.

But when the battle-horn is blown
Till the Schreckhorn's peaks reply,
When the Jungfrau's cliffs send back the tone
Through their eagles' lonely sky;

When spear-heads light the lakes,
When trumpets loose the snows,
When the rushing war-steed shakes
The glacier's mute repose;

When Uri's beechen woods wave red
In the burning hamlet's light;-
Then from the cavern of the dead,
Shall the sleepers wake in might!

With a leap, like Tell's proud leap,
the helm he flung,*

When

away

And boldly up the steep

From the flashing billow sprung!

They shall wake beside their Forest-sea,
In the ancient garb they wore

When they link'd the hands that made us free,
On the Grütli's moonlight shore:

And their voices shall be heard,

And be answer'd with a shout,
Till the echoing Alps are stirr'd,

And the signal-fires blaze out.

And the land shall see such deeds again
As those of that proud day,

When Winkelried, on Sempach's plain,

Through the serried

spears made way;

And when the rocks came down

On the dark Morgarten dell,

And the crowned casques,t o'erthrown,
Before our fathers fell!

For the Kühreihen's notes must never sound
In a land that wears the chain,

*The point of rock on which Tell leaped from the boat of Gessler is marked by a chapel, and called the Tellensprung. + Crowned helmets, as a distinction of rank, are mentioned in Simond's Switzerland.

The Kühreihen, the celebrated Ranz des Vaches.