haste, "An arrow in thy belt is placed-what means it? Speak!" "To smite thee, tyrant, to the heart, had Heaven so willed it. that my dart touched this, my boy!" "Treason! Rebellion! Chain the slave!" A hundred swords around him wave; and hate to Gesler's features gave infuriate joy. They chained the Switzer, arm and limb; they racked him till his eyes grew dim, and reeled his brain. Nor groan, nor pain-rung prayer gave he; but smiled, beneath his belt to see that shaft, whose point he swore should be not sped in vain. And that one arrow found its goal, red with revenge, in Gesler's soul, when Lucerne's lake heard him his felon soul out-moan; and Freedom's call abroad was blown, and Switzerland, a giant grown, her fetters brake. From hill to hill the summons flew, from lake to lake that tempest grew with wakening swell; till balked Oppression crouched in shame, and Austrian haughtiness grew tame, and Freedom's watchword was the name of-William Tell. THE DIVER BY SCHILLER "Oh, where is the knight or the squire so bold As to dive to the howling charybdis below? I cast in the whirlpool a goblet of gold, Whoever to me may the goblet bring Shall have for his guerdon that gift of his king.' And the knights and the squires that gathered around Stood silent, and fixed on the ocean their eyes: They looked on the dismal and savage profound, And the peril chilled back every thought of the prize. Is there never a wight who will venture in?" And all, as before, heard in silence the king, And the murmuring crowd, as they parted asunder, And lo! from the heart of that far-floating gloom As a sign, as a joy, shines the goblet of gold! And he comes with the crowd in their clamor and glee; And the goblet his daring has won from the water He lifts to the king as he sinks on his knee; And the king from her maidens has beckoned his daughter "Happy they whom the rose-hues of daylight rejoice, The air and the sky that to mortals are given ! May the horror below nevermore find a voice, Nor man stretch too far the wide mercy of Heaven, "Quick brightening like lightning, it tore me along, Vain, vain were my struggles, the circle had won me; "And I called on my God, and my God heard my prayer, In the strength of my need, in the gasp of my breath, And showed me a crag that rose up from the lair, And I clung to it, trembling, and baffled the death. And, safe in the perils around me, behold, On the spikes of the coral, the goblet of gold! "Methought, as I gazed through the darkness, that now A hundred-limbed creature caught sight of its prey, And darted-O God! from the far flaming bough Of the coral, I swept on the horrible way; And it seized me-the wave with its wrath and its roar It seized me to save-King, the danger is o'er!" On the youth gazed the monarch, and marveled; quoth he, "Bold diver, the goblet I promised is thine; And this ring will I give, a fresh guerdon to thee, Then out spake the daughter in tender emotion, "Ah! father, my father, what more can there rest? Enough of this sport with the pitiless ocean; He has served thee as none would, thyself hath confest. If nothing can slake thy wild thirst of desire, Be your knights not, at least, put to shame by the squire!" The king seized the goblet: he swung it on high, In his heart, as he listened, there leapt the wild joy, And the hope and the love through his eyes spoke in fire. On that bloom, on that blush, gazed delighted the boy; The maiden she faints at the feet of her sire. Here the guerdon divine, there the danger beneath; They hear the loud surges sweep back in their swell: SCENE FROM "THE RIVALS" BY SHERIDAN MRS. MALAPROP and SIR ANTHONY ABSOLUTE. Mrs. M. There, Sir Anthony, there sits the deliberate simpleton, who wants to disgrace her family, and lavish herself on a fellow not worth a shilling. Lydia. Madam, I thought you once Mrs. M. You thought, miss! I don't know any business you have to think at all: thought does not become a young woman. But the point we would request of you is, that you will promise to forget this fellow-to illiterate him, I say, from your memory. Lydia. Ah, madam, our memories are independent of our wills. It is not so easy to forget. Mrs. M. But I say it is, miss! there is nothing on earth so easy as to forget, if a person chooses to set about it. I'm sure I've as much forgot your poor dear uncle, as if he had never existed: and I thought it my duty so to do; and let me tell you, Lydia, these violent memories don't become a young woman. Sir A. Why, sure, she won't pretend to remember what she's ordered not? ay, this comes of her reading. Lydia. What crime, madam, have I committed, to be treated thus? Mrs. M. Now don't attempt to extirpate yourself from the matter; you know I have proof controvertible of it. But, tell me, will you promise to do as you're bid? Will you take a husband of your friends' choosing? |