Of man’s brief course a troubled moment’s token
Th’ eternal waters to their barriers bore;
And then their gloom a flashing image wore
Of torch-fires streaming out o’er crag and wood,
And the wild falcon’s wing was heard to soar
In startled haste—and by that moonlight flood,
A band of patriot men on Grutli’s verdure stood.
VII.
They stood in arms: the wolf-spear and the bow
Had waged their war on things of mountain race;