My trust has not been given to thee in vain.
RUD.
Away, ye idle phantoms of my folly;
In mine own home I'll find my happiness.
Here, where the gladsome boy to manhood grew,
Where ev'ry brook, and tree, and mountain peak,
Teems with remembrances of happy hours,
In mine own native land thou wilt be mine.
Ah, I have ever loved it well, I feel
How poor without it were all earthly joys.
BERTH.
Where should we look for happiness on earth,
If not in this dear land of innocence?
Here, where old truth hath its familiar home.
Where fraud and guile are strangers, envy ne'er
Shall dim the sparkling fountain of our bliss,
And ever bright the hours shall o'er us glide.
There do I see thee, in true manly worth,
The foremost of the free and of thy peers,
Revered with homage pure and unconstrain'd,
Wielding a power that kings might envy thee.
RUD.
And thee I see, thy sex's crowning gem,
With thy sweet woman's grace and wakeful love,
Building a heaven for me within my home,
And, as the spring-time scatters forth her flowers,
Adorning with thy charms my path of life,
And spreading joy and sunshine all around.
BERTH.
And this it was, dear friend, that caused my grief,
To see thee blast this life's supremest bliss
With thine own hand. Ah! what had been my fate,
Had I been forced to follow some proud lord,
Some ruthless despot, to his gloomy keep!
Here are no keeps, here are no bastion'd walls
To part me from a people I can bless.
RUD.
Yet, how to free myself; to loose the coils
Which I have madly twined around my head?
BERTH.
Tear them asunder with a man's resolve.
Whate'er ensue, firm by thy people stand!
It is thy post by birth.
[Hunting horns are heard in the distance.]
But hark! The chase!
Farewell,-'tis needful we should part-away!
Fight for thy land; thou fightest for thy love.
One foe fills all our souls with dread; the blow
That makes one free, emancipates us all.
[Exeunt severally.]
SCENE III.
A meadow near Altdorf. Trees in the foreground. At the back of the
stage a cap upon a pole. The prospect is bounded by the Bannberg,
which is surmounted by a snow-capped mountain.
Friesshardt and Leuthold on guard
FRIESS.
We keep our watch in vain. Zounds! not a soul
Will pass, and do obeisance to the cap.
But yesterday the place swarm'd like a fair;
Now the old green looks like a desert, quite,
Since yonder scarecrow hung upon the pole.
LEUTH.
Only the vilest rabble show themselves,
And wave their tattered caps in mockery at us.
All honest citizens would sooner make
A weary circuit over half the town,
Than bend their backs before our master's cap.
FRIESS.
They were obliged to pass this way at noon,
As they were coming from the Council House.
I counted then upon a famous catch,
For no one thought of bowing to the cap,
But Rosselmann, the priest, was even with me:
Coming just then from some sick man, he takes
His stand before the pole,-lifts up the Host-
The Sacrist, too, must tinkle with his bell,
When down they dropp'd on knee-myself and all-
In reverence to the Host, but not the cap.
LEUTH.
Hark ye, companion, I've a shrewd suspicion,
Our post's no better than the pillory.
It is a burning shame, a trooper should
Stand sentinel before an empty cap,
And every honest fellow must despise us.
To do obeisance to a cap, too! Faith,
I never heard an order so absurd!
FRIESS.
Why not, an't please you, to an empty cap?
You've duck'd, I'm sure, to many an empty sconce.
[Hildegard, Mechthild, and Elsbeth enter with their children, and
station themselves around the pole.]
LEUTH.
And you are a time-serving sneak, that takes
Delight in bringing honest folks to harm.
For my part, he that likes may pass the cap:
I'll shut my eyes and take no note of him.
MECH.
There hangs the Viceroy! Your obeisance, children!
ELS.
I would to God he'd go, and leave his cap!
The country would be none the worse for it.
FRIESS. (driving them away).
Out of the way! Confounded pack of gossips!
Who sent for you? Go, send your husbands here,
If they have courage to defy the order.
[Tell enters with his cross-bow, leading his son Walter by the hand.
They pass the hat without noticing it, and advance to the front of the
stage.]
WALT. (pointing to the Bannberg).
Father, is't true, that on the mountain there
The trees, if wounded with a hatchet, bleed?
TELL.
Who says so, boy?
WALT.
The master herdsman, father!
He tells us there's a charm upon the trees,
And if a man shall injure them, the hand
That struck the blow will grow from out the grave.
TELL.
There is a charm about them-that's the truth.
Dost see those glaciers yonder-those white horns-
That seem to melt away into the sky?
WALT.
They are the peaks that thunder so at night,
And send the avalanches down upon us.
TELL.
They are; and Altdorf long ago had been
Submerged beneath these avalanches' weight,
Did not the forest there above the town
Stand like a bulwark to arrest their fall.
WALT. (after musing a little).
And are there countries with no mountains, father?
TELL.
Yes, if we travel downwards from our heights,
And keep descending where the rivers go,
We reach a wide and level country, where
Our mountain torrents brawl and foam no more,
And fair large rivers glide serenely on.
All quarters of the heaven may there be scann'd
Without impediment. The corn grows there
In broad and lovely fields, and all the land
Is like a garden fair to look upon.
WALT.
But, father, tell me, wherefore haste we not
Away to this delightful land, instead
Of toiling here, and struggling as we do?
TELL.
The land is fair and bountiful as Heaven;
But they who till it never may enjoy
The fruits of what they sow.
WALT.
Live they not free,
As you do, on the land their fathers left them?
TELL.
The fields are all the bishop's or the king's.
WALT.
But they may freely hunt among the woods?
TELL.
The game is all the monarch's-bird and beast.
WALT.
But they, at least, may surely fish the streams?