But 't was no sooner thought than done,-- The field was in a moment won! "Make way for liberty!" he cried, Then ran, with arms extended wide, As if his dearest friend to clasp; Ten spears he swept within his grasp: "Make way for liberty!" he cried-- Their keen points met from side to side; He bowed amongst them like a tree, And thus made way for liberty. Swift to the breach his comrades fly: "Make way for liberty!" they cry, And through the Austrian phalanx dart, As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart; While, instantaneous as his fall, Rout, ruin, panic, scattered all: An earthquake could not overthrow. A city with a surer blow. Thus Switzerland again was free; Thus Death made way for liberty! J. Montgomery. CCXXI. NEW ENGLAND'S DEAD. New England's dead!--New England's dead! On every hill they lie; On every field of strife made red By bloody victory. Each valley, where the battle poured Its red and awful tide, Beheld the brave New England sword, With slaughter deeply dyed. Their bones are on the northern hill, And on the southern plain, By brook and river, lake and rill, And by the roaring main. The land is holy where they fought, And holy where they fell; For by their blood that land was bought, The land they loved so well. Then glory to that valiant band, The honored saviours of the land! O! few and weak their numbers were,-- A handful of brave men; But to their God they gave their prayer, And rushed to battle then. The God of battles heard their cry, And sent to them the victory. They left the ploughshare in the mould, Their flocks and herds without a fold, The sickle in the unshorn grain, The corn, half-garnered on the plain, And mustered in their simple dress, For wrongs to seek a stern redress; To right those wrongs, come weal, come woe,-- To perish or o'ercome their foe. And where are ye, O fearless men?