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save us from having one man (William Blake) severely wounded by them, but by the skilful care bestowed upon him by Dr Harris (who accompanied the expedition as a volunteer, and to whom, upon this occasion, and throughout the whole course of it, we are indebted for much valuable assistance), I trust his recovery is no longer doubtful.

"The general merit of Mr Evans is so well known to your Excellency, that it will here be sufficient to observe, that by his zealous attention to every point that could facilitate the progress of the expedition, he has endeavoured to deserve a continuance of your Excellency's approbation.

"Mr Charles Frazer, the Colonial Botanist, has added near seven hundred new specimens to the already extended catalogue of Australasian plants, besides many seeds, &c. and in the collection and preservation he has indefatigably endeavoured to obtain your Excellency's approval of

his services.

"I confidently hope that the journal of the expedition will amply evince to your Excellency the exemplary and praiseworthy conduct of the men employed on it: and I feel the sincerest pleasure in earnestly soliciting for them your Excellency's favourable consideration.

"Respectfully hoping, that, on a

perusal and inspection of the jour nals and charts of the expedition, the course I have pursued in the execution of your Excellency's instructions will be honoured by your approbation, I beg leave to subscribe myself, with the greatest respect, Sir, your Excellency's most obedient and humble servant,

(Signed) "J. OXLEY, Surveyor-General." "To his Excellency Governor Macquarie."

It appears also, that a communication of easy access, and running through lands of the very best description, has been opened by the enterprise of la Mr Throsby, to the delightful country beyond the Blue Mountains. This discovery must prove of the highest importance to the future colonization and improvement of this fifth continent; and it is the more remarkable, as every attempt to find a practicable passage to the great western wilderness had hitherto proved abortive. Mr Throsby was on the whole occupied fifteen days in the expedition which terminated so fortunately. The geography of this singular and anomalous region is, however, still in its infancy; but the most favourable results may be anticipated from the spirit of enterprise and discovery with which the local government, greatly to its honour, appears to be actuated.

ORIGINAL POETRY,

WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR THIS VOLUME.

THE LEAGUE OF THE ALPS,

OR THE MEETING on the field of grütli.

BY MRS HEMANS.

It was in the year 1308, that the Swiss rose against the tyranny of the Bailiffs appointed over them by ALBERT of Austria. The field called Grütli, at the foot of the Selisberg, and near the boundaries of Uri and Unterwalden, was fixed upon by three spirited yeomen, WALTER FÜRST, (the father-in-law of WILLIAM TELL,) WERNER STAUFFACHER, and ERNI, (or ARNOLD) MELCHTHAL, as their place of meeting to deliberate on the accomplishment of their projects. "Hither came FÜRST and MELCHTHAL along secret paths over the heights, and STAUFFACHER in his boat across the Lake of the Four Cantons. On the night preceding the 11th November 1307, they met here, each with ten associates, men of approved worth; and while, at this solemn hour, they were wrapt in the contemplation, that on their success depended the fate of their whole posterity, WERNER, WALTER, and ARNOLD held up their hands to heaven, and in the name of the ALMIGHTY, who has created man to an inalienable degree of freedom, swore jointly and strenuously to defend that freedom. The thirty associates heard the oath with awe, and with uplifted hands attested the same God and all his Saints, that they were firmly bent on offering up their lives for the defence of their original liberty. They then calmly agreed on their future proceedings, and, for the present, each returned to his hamlet."— Planta's History of the Helvetic Confederacy.

On the first day of the year 1308, they succeeded in throwing off the Austrian yoke; and "it is well attested," says the same author, "that not one drop of blood was shed on this memorable occasion, nor had one proprietor to lament the loss of a claim, a privilege, or an inch of land. The Swiss met on the succeeding Sabbath, and once more confirmed by oath their ancient, and (as they fondly named it) perpetual league."

THE LEAGUE of the ALPS.

'Twas night upon the Alps. The (1) Senn's wild horn,
Like a wind's voice, had pour'd its last long tone,
Whose thrilling echoes, through the larch-woods borne,
To the low cabins of the glens, made known

That welcome steps were nigh. The flocks had gone
By cliff and pine-bridge, to their place of rest;
The chamois slumber'd, for the chase was done;
His cavern-bed of moss the hunter press'd;
And the rock-eagle couch'd, high on his cloudy nest.

Oh! who may tell the Majesty of Night,

Thron'd on those summits?-They, for whom her hours Bring, with their stars, but softer sounds and light, And richer scents, to float through citron bowers, Know little of the marvels and the powers, Whereby she rules the spirit!-Let them stand By the blue Glaciers, midst the mountain towers, When Heaven's deep silence wraps a voiceless land— There may they learn the might and sorcery of her wand.

For awful, e'en as death, the calm around,
Awful and strange !-nor seem those regions made
Unto man's use, but in that rest profound,
For some dread being's wakeful eye array'd
With sad, yet glorious beauty!—To a shade
Dark as a Pall's, th' intensely azure sky (2)
Deepens its mantle, on the Alp-Domes laid; (3)
And stars, like altar-fires, burn forth on high,
And each dim valley seems a world of mystery.

The leaves were falling, but without a sound,
In Uri's ancient forests, ev'n like snows

When winds are laid (4). With solemn radiance crown'd,
Clear through Heaven's purple gloom the mountains rose,
As the broad moon of Autumn's golden close
Look'd o'er their heights in stillness. But the roar

Of distant torrents, on the scene's repose,

Came rolling mightier to the lake's dark shore,

Where life's far murmur swell'd the breathless air no more.

Did the land sleep?-The Woodman's axe had ceas'd
Its ringing strokes upon the beech and plane;
The grapes were gather'd in; the vintage-feast
Was clos'd upon the hills, the reaper's strain
Hush'd by the streams; the year was in its wane,

The night in its mid-watch: it was a time

E'en mark'd and hallow'd unto slumber's reign! -But thoughts were stirring, restless and sublime, And o'er his white Alps mov'd the Spirit of the Clime.

For there, where snows, in crowning glory spread,
High and unmark'd by mortal footstep lay,
And there, where torrents, midst the Ice-caves fed,
Burst in their joy of light and sound away;
And there, where Freedom, as in scornful play,
Had hung man's dwellings midst the realms of air,
O'er cliffs, the very birth-place of the day;
-Oh! Who would dream that Tyranny could dare
To lay her withering hand on God's bright works e'en there.

Yet thus it was!-Amidst the fleet streams gushing
To bring down rainbows o'er their sparry cell,

And the glad heights, through mist and tempest rushing
Up where the sun's red fire-glance earliest fell;

And the green pastures, where the herd's sweet bell
Recall'd such life as eastern Patriarchs led;

There peasant-men their free thoughts might not tell,
Save in the hour of shadows and of dread,

And hollow sounds that wake to Guilt's dull stealthy tread.

But in a land of happy shepherd-homes,

On its blue hills in quiet joy reclining,

With their bright hearth-fires, midst the twilight-glooms,
From bowery lattice through the dark woods shining;
A land of legends and wild songs, entwining
Their memory with all memories lov'd and blest;
In such a land there dwells a Power, combining
The strength of many a calm, but fearless breast,
-And woe to him who breaks the Sabbath of its rest!

For they, that from the forest-silence turn
Joyous at eve to their own threshold-floor;
They whose deep hearts upon the mountains burn,
O'er the land's battle-tales and minstrel-lore;
And unto whom the church-bells, as they pour
On the far Alps, their voices, bring a sense

Of love that folds the hallow'd things of yore ;

Such men are strong!-there need no rocks to fence

The soil which rears those hearts, and draws its charter thence!

A sound went up-the wave's dark rest was broken;

On Uri's Lake (5) was heard a midnight-oar!

To their eternal cliffs a moment's token

Of man's brief course the troubled waters bore;

And then their sleep a glancing image wore

Of torch-fires streaming out o'er crag and wood;
And wild-birds woke, as footsteps rustled o'er
The sear dead leaves; and by that moonlight flood,
A band of patriot-men on Grütli's verdure stood (6).

They stood in arms--the wolf-spear and the bow
Had wag'd their war on things of mountain-race,
Might not their swift stroke reach a mail-clad foe?
-Strong hands in harvest, daring feet in chase,
True hands in fight, were gather'd on that place
Of secret counsel. Not for fame or spoil
So met those men in Heaven's majestic face;
To guard free hearths they rose, the sons of toil,
The hunter of the rocks, the tiller of the soil.

O'er their low pastoral valleys might the tide
Of years have flow'd, and still, from sire to son,
Their name and records on the green earth died,
As cottage lamps expiring one by one,
In the dim glades, when midnight hath begun
To hush all sound. But silent on its height,
The snow-mass, full of death, while ages run
Their course, may slumber, bath'd in rosy light,
Till some rash voice or step disturb its brooding might.

So were they rous'd!-th' invading step had pass'd
Their cabin-thresholds, and the lowly door
Which well had stood against the Tæhnwind's blast, (7)
Could bar oppression from their homes no more.
-Why, what had she to do where all things wore
Wild grandeur's impress?-In the storm's free way,
How dar'd she lift her pageant crest before

Th' enduring and magnificent array

Of sovereign Alps, that wing'd their eagles with the day?

This might not long be borne !-the tameless hills
Have voices, from the cave and cataract swelling,
Fraught with His name, whose awful presence fills
Their deep lone places, and for ever telling

That he hath made man free!-and they, whose dwelling
Was in those ancient fastnesses, gave ear;

The weight of sufferance from their hearts repelling,

They rose the forester, the mountaineer

-Oh! what hath earth more strong than the good peasant-spear?

Sacred be Grütli's field!-their vigil keeping
Through many a blue and starry summer night,
There, while the sons of happier lands were sleeping,
Had those brave Switzers met; and in the sight
Of the just God, who pours forth burning might

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