Emma. Why, William, don't

You answer me?

Tell. Again! How would you fare, Suppose a wolf should cross your path, and you Alone, with but your bow, and only time To fix a single arrow? "Twould not do To miss the wolf! You said, the other day, Were you a man, you'd not let Gesler live "Twas easy to say that. Suppose you, now, Your life or his depended on that shot! Take care! That's Gesler! - Now for liberty! Right to the tyrant's heart! Well done, my boy!

Come here! Now, Emma, I will answer you :
Do I not love you? Do I not love our child?
Is not that cottage dear to me, where I
Was born? How many acres would I give
That little vineyard for, which I have watch'd
And tended since I was a child? Those crags
And peaks what spired city would I take
To live in in exchange for them? -Yet what
Are these to me? What is this boy to me?
What art thou, Emma, to me - when a breath
Of Gesler's can take all?

[Old Melctal, blind, led by Albert.]

Old Melctal. Where art thou, William?

Old M. Tell! Tell!

Tell. 'Tis Melctal's voice.

Where are his eyes?

Have they put out his eyes? Has Gesler turn'd the little evening of

The old man's life to night, before its time?

To such black night as sees not with the day

All round it! Father, speak; pronounce the name
Of Gesler!

Old M. Gesler!

Tell. Gesler has torn out

The old man's eyes! Support thy mother! Erni?
Where's Erni? Where's thy son? Is he alive
And are his father's eyes torn out?

Old M. He lives, my William,

But knows it not.

Tell. When he shall know it!

Heavens !

When he shall know it! I am not thy son,

Emma. William ! William !

Alb. Father!

Tell. Could I find

Something to tear

--

to rend, were worth it! - something Most ravenous and bloody !—something like Gesler! a wolf! - no, no; a wolf's a lamb To Gesler! It is a natural hunger makes The wolf a savage; and, savage as he is, Yet with his kind he gently doth consort. 'Tis but his lawful prey he tears: and that He finishes not mangles, and then leaves To live!

They slander him who call him cruel : He hath no joy in cruelty, but as

It ministers to his most needful want :

He does not know that he is cruel

no

Not when he rends an infant. I would let

The wolf go free for Gesler! - Water! Water!
My tongue cleaves to my roof!

Old M. What ails thee, William ?

I pray thee, William, let me hear thy voice!
That's not thy voice!

Tell. I cannot speak to thee!

Emma. Here, William !
Tell. Emma !

Emma. Drink!

Tell. I cannot drink!

Emma. Your eyes are fixed.

Tell. Melctal! - he has no eyes!

The poor old man!

Old M. I feel thee, Tell! I care not That I have lost my eyes. I feel thy tears They're more to me than eyes When I had eyes, I never knew thee, William, as I know Thee now without. I do not want my eyes!

Tell. How came it, father? briefly, father! quick And briefly! Action! action! I'm in such glee For work —so eager to be doing― have

Such stomach for a task, I've scarcely patience

To wait to know what 'tis - Here, here; sit down. Now, father!

Old. M. Yesterday, when I and Erni

Went to the field, to bring our harvest home,
Two soldiers of the tyrant's came upon us,

And without cause alleged, or interchange

Of word, proceeded to unyoke the oxen.
Tell. Go on.

Old M. As one stunn'd by a thunder-clap
Stands sudden still, nor for a while bethinks him
Of taking shelter from the storm, so we,
Confounded by an act so bold, awhile
Look'd on in helpless silence; till at length
Erni, as sudden as the hurricane,

That lays the oak uprooted, ere you see

Its branches quiver, bounding on the spoilers,'

Wrench'd from their grasp the yoke, and would have smote Them dead, had they not ta'en to instant flight.

Tell. Did he pursue them?

Old M. No; I threw myself

Between.

Tell. Why didst thou save them?

Old. M. 'Twas my son

I sav'd! I clasp'd his knees - I calm'd his rage,
I forced him from me to the caverns of
Mount Faigel, William, till the tyrant's wrath
Should cool, or be diverted. "Twas my son
I sav'd; for, scarcely was he out of sight,

And I within my cottage, when the cries
Of Gesler's bands beset it, calling for

The blood of Erni!
Clear of their fangs!

William, he was safe

My son was safe!

O think

Think, William, what I felt to see his lair

His very lair beset, and know my boy —

My lion boy was safe! Enough; they seized me,
And dragg'd me before Gesler.

Tell. Say no more!

His life cost you your eyes. 'Tis worth a pair
Of eyes, but not your eyes, old man. No, no;
He would have given it ten times over for
But one of them. But one? But for a hair

O' the lash! My bow and quiver! He was by?
Old M. Was by.

Tell. More arrows for my quiver.

And looking on?

Old. M. And looking on.

Tell. "Twill do !

He would dine after that, and say a grace.

Good heavens! to tear a man's eyes out, and then

Thank God! My staff! He'd have his wine, too. How

The man could look at it, and drink it off,

And not grow sick at the color on't!

R

I'll grow more calm.

My flask - I want it fill'd; and put provision
Into my pouch. - I thank thee for that look!
Now seem'st thou like some kind o'er-seeing angel,
Smiling as he prepares the storm, that, while it
Shakes the earth, and makes its tenants pale,

Doth smite a pestilence. Thou wouldst not stay me?
Emma. No.

Tell. Nor thy boy, if I required his service?

Emma. No, William.

Tell. Make him ready, Emma.

Old M. No,

Not Albert, William.

Emma. Yes; even Albert, father.

Thy cap and wallet, boy-thy mountain staff

Where hast thou laid it? Find it - haste! Don't keep

Thy father waiting. He is ready, William.

Tell. Well done-well done! I thank you, love— I thank you!

Now mark me, Albert: dost thou fear the snow,
The ice-field, or the hail-flaw? Car'st thou for
The mountain mist, that settles on the peak
When thou'rt upon it? Dost thou tremble at
The torrent roaring from the deep ravine,
Along whose shaking ledge thy track doth lie?
Or faint'st thou at the thunder-clap, when on

The hill thou art o'ertaken by the cloud,

And it doth burst around thee? Thou must travel

All night.

Alb. I'm ready. Say all night again.

Tell. The mountains are to cross; for thou must reach

Mount Faigel by the dawn.

Alb. Not sooner shall

The dawn be there than I.

Tell. Heaven speeding thee!

Alb. Heaven speeding me!

Tell. Show me thy staff. Art sure