Part 260 (1/2)

[Ascends a rock.

FISHERMAN.

Woe to the bark that now pursues its course, Rocked in the cradle of these storm-tossed waves.

Nor helm nor steersman here can aught avail; The storm is master. Man is like a ball, Tossed 'twixt the winds and billows. Far, or near, No haven offers him its friendly shelter!

Without one ledge to grasp, the sheer, smooth rocks Look down inhospitably on his despair, And only tender him their flinty b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

BOY (calling from above).

Father, a s.h.i.+p; and bearing down from Flueelen.

FISHERMAN.

Heaven pity the poor wretches! When the storm Is once entangled in this strait of ours, It rages like some savage beast of prey, Struggling against its cage's iron bars.

Howling, it seeks an outlet--all in vain; For the rocks hedge it round on every side, Walling the narrow pa.s.s as high as heaven.

[He ascends a cliff.

BOY.

It is the governor of Uri's s.h.i.+p; By its red p.o.o.p I know it, and the flag.

FISHERMAN.

Judgments of Heaven! Yes, it is he himself.

It is the governor! Yonder he sails, And with him bears the burden of his crimes!

Soon has the arm of the avenger found him; Now over him he knows a mightier lord.

These waves yield no obedience to his voice, These rocks bow not their heads before his cap.

Boy, do not pray; stay not the Judge's arm!

BOY.

I pray not for the governor; I pray For Tell, who is on board the s.h.i.+p with him.

FISHERMAN.

Alas, ye blind, unreasoning elements!

Must ye, in punis.h.i.+ng one guilty head, Destroy the vessel and the pilot too?

BOY.

See, see, they've cleared the Buggisgrat [20]; but now The blast, rebounding from the Devil's Minster [21], Has driven them back on the Great Axenberg. [22]

I cannot see them now.

FISHERMAN.

The Hakmesser [23]

Is there, that's foundered many a gallant s.h.i.+p.

If they should fail to double that with skill, Their bark will go to pieces on the rocks That hide their jagged peaks below the lake.

They have on board the very best of pilots; If any man can save them, Tell is he; But he is manacled, both hand and foot.

[Enter WILLIAM TELL, with his crossbow. He enters precipitately, looks wildly round, and testifies the most violent agitation. When he reaches the centre of the stage, he throws himself upon his knees, and stretches out his hands, first towards the earth, then towards heaven.

BOY (observing him).

See, father! Who is that man, kneeling yonder?

FISHERMAN.