Fast as the fatal symbol flies, In arms the huts and hamlets rise;From winding glen, from upland brown, They poured each hardy tenant down.
Nor slacked the messenger his pace;
He showed the sign, he named the place, And, pressing forward like the wind, Left clamor and surprise behind.
The fisherman forsook the strand, The swarthy smith took dirk and brand;With changed cheer, the mower blithe Left in the half-cut swath his scythe;The herds without a keeper strayed, The plough was in mid-furrow staved, The falconer tossed his hawk away, The hunter left the stag at hay;Prompt at the signal of alarms, Each son of Alpine rushed to arms;So swept the tumult and affray Along the margin of Achray.
Alas, thou lovely lake! that e'er Thy banks should echo sounds of fear!
The rocks, the bosky thickets, sleep So stilly on thy bosom deep, The lark's blithe carol from the cloud Seems for the scene too gayly loud.
