On the Subjugation of Switzerland

William Wordsworth


TWO voices are there: one is of the sea,

One of the mountains; each a mighty voice:

In both from age to age thou didst rejoice,

They were thy chosen music, Liberty!

There came a tyrant, and with holy glee

Thou fought’st against him; but hast vainly striven:

Thou from thy Alpine holds at length art driven,

Where not a torrent murmurs heard by thee.

Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft:

Then cleave, O, cleave to that which still is left;

For, high-souled maid, what sorrow would it be

That mountain floods should thunder as before,

And ocean bellow from his rocky shore,

And neither awful voice be heard by thee!


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