XXXII.

_TO THE SWISS._

_Se voi più innalza._

Ye Alpine rocks! If less your peaks elate To heaven exalt you than that gift divine, Freedom; why do your children still combine To keep the despots in their stolen state? Lo, for a piece of bread from windows wide You fling your blood, taking no thought what cause, Righteous or wrong, your strength to battle draws; So is your valour spurned and vilified. All things belong to free men; but the slave Clothes and feeds poorly. Even so from you Broad lands and Malta's knighthood men withhold. Up, free yourselves, and act as heroes do! Go, take your own from tyrants, which you gave So recklessly, and they so dear have sold!