SWITZERLAND

I am she that shews on mighty limbs and maiden

Nor chain nor stain;

For what blood can touch these hands with gold unladen,

These feet what chain?

By the surf of spears one shieldless bosom breasted

And was my shield,

Till the plume-plucked Austrian vulture-heads twin-crested

Twice drenched the field;

By the snows and souls untrampled and untroubled

That shine to cheer us,

Light of those to these responsive and redoubled;