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 crownèd casques,[313] o’erthrown,
Before our fathers fell!
For the Kühreihen’s[314] notes must never sound
In a land that wears the chain,
And the vines on freedom’s holy ground