From: The Dial, Vol. IV, No. II (Oct. 1843)
Author:
Published: James Munroe and Company 1843 Boston
WHERE the mountain cataracts leap, As the crag from the high cliff leaps,WILLIAM TELL’S SONG.
And the stem wild pine builds fast,
And the piercing crystals keep
Their chains for the glaciers vast,
I have built up my heart with a stony wall,
I have frozen my will for a tyrant’s fall.
And is ground to fine dust below,
As the dreaded avalanche creeps,
And buries the valleys in woe,
So tyranny sinks ‘neath my mountain heart,
So slavery falls by my quivering dart.
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