Thought of a Briton on the Subjugation of Switzerland

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!