Part 526 (1/2)

O'er the heights growls the thunder, while quivers the bridge, Yet no fear feels the hunter, though dizzy the ridge; He strides on undaunted, O'er plains icy-bound, Where spring never blossoms, Nor verdure is found; And, a broad sea of mist lying under his feet, Man's dwellings his vision no longer can greet; The world he but views When the clouds broken are-- With its pastures so green, Through the vapor afar.

From William Tell, act iii. scene 1.

WALTER sings.

Bow and arrow bearing, Over hills and streams Moves the hunter daring, Soon as daylight gleams.

As all flying creatures Own the eagle's sway, So the hunter, Nature's Mounts and crags obey.

Over s.p.a.ce he reigneth, And he makes his prize All his bolt attaineth, All that creeps or flies.

From William Tell, act iv. scene 3.

CHORUS OF BROTHERS OF MERCY.

Death comes to man with hasty stride, No respite is to him e'er given; He's stricken down in manhood's pride, E'en in mid race from earth he's driven.

Prepared, or not, to go from here, Before his Judge he must appear!

From Turandot, act ii. scene 4.

RIDDLE.

The tree whereon decay All those from mortals sprung,-- Full old, and yet whose spray Is ever green and young; To catch the light, it rolls Each leaf upon one side; The other, black as coals, The sun has ne'er descried.

It places on new rings As often as it blows; The age, too, of all things To mortal gaze it shows.

Upon its bark so green A name oft meets the eye, Yet 'tis no longer seen, When it grows old and dry.

This tree--what can it mean?

I wait for thy reply. [70]

From Mary Stuart, act iii, scene 1.

SCENE--A Park. MARY advances hastily from behind some trees. HANNAH KENNEDY follows her slowly.

MARY.

Let me my newly-won liberty taste!

Let me rejoice as a child once again!

And, as on pinions, with airy foot hast Over the tapestried green of the plain!

Have I escaped from my prison so drear?

Shall I no more in my sad dungeon pine?

Let me in long and in thirsty draughts here Drink in the breezes, so free, so divine

Thanks, thanks, ye trees, in smiling verdure dressed, In that ye veil my prison-walls from sight!

I'll dream that I am free and blest Why should I waken from a dream so bright?

Do not the s.p.a.cious heavens encompa.s.s me?

Behold! my gaze, unshackled, free, Pierces with joy the trackless realms of light!

There, where the gray-tinged hills of mist project, My kingdom's boundaries begin; Yon clouds, that tow'rd the south their course direct, France's far-distant ocean seek to win.

Swiftly-flying clouds, hardy sailors through air!

Mortal hath roamed with ye, sailed with ye, ne'er!