A spark of fire ethereal shall impart,
To rouse each godlike passion in the heart.
Still, gallant Arnold! while the Switzer fights
E’en to his blood’s last drop, to guard his rights;
The right to tread his hills begirt with storm,
Free as the winds that brace his nervous form;
Your dying words, invincible he hears;
When with gored bosom, grasping Austria’s spears,
To glorious death you singly forced the way,
And bade forever live red Sempach’s day;