William Tell.

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WILLIAM TELL.

SOME, list to me, and you shall hear
A tale of what befell

A famous man of Switzerland--.
His name was WILLIAM TELL.

Near Reuss's bank, from day to day,

His little flock he led,

By prudent thrift and hardy toil
Content to earn his bread.

Nor was the hunter's craft unknown;

In Uri none was seen

To track the rock-frequenting herd
With eye so true and keen.

A little son was in his home,

A laughing, fair-haired boy;
So strong of limb, so blithe of heart,'
He made it ring with joy.

His father's sheep were all his friends;
The lambs he called by name;
And when they frolicked in the fields,
The child would share the game.

So peacefully their hours were spent,
That life had scarce a sorrow;

They took the good of every day,

And hoped for more to-morrow.

But oft some shining April morn
Is darkened in an hour;

And blackest griefs o'er joyous homes,
Alas! unseen may lower.

Not yet on Switzerland had dawned

Her day of liberty:

The stranger's yoke was on her sons,
And pressed right heavily.

So one was sent in luckless hour,
To rule in Austria's name;
A haughty man of savage mood-
In pomp and pride he came.

One day, in wantonness of power,
He set his cap on high:

"Bow down, ye slaves," the order ran;

"Who disobeys shall die!"

It chanced that WILLIAM TELL, that morn,
Had left his cottage home;
And, with his little son in hand,
To Altorf town had come.

For oft the boy had eyed the spoil
His father homeward bore,
And prayed to join the hunting crew,
When they should roam for more.

And often on some merry night
When wondrous feats were told,

He longed his father's bow to take,
And be a hunter bold.

So to the chamois' haunts they went ;
One sang his childish songs,

The other brooded mournfully

O'er Uri's griefs and wrongs.

William Tell.

TELL saw the crowd, the lifted cap,
The tyrant's angry frown;

And heralds shouted in his ear,

"Bow down, ye slaves, bow down!"

Stern Gesler marked the peasant's mien,
And watched to see him fall;

But never palm-tree straighter stood
Than TELL before them all.

"My knee shall bend," he calmly said,

"To God, and God alone;

My life is in the Austrian's hand,

My conscience is my own."

"Seize him, ye guards!" the ruler cried, While passion choked his breath;

"He mocks my power, he braves my lord; He dies a traitor's death;

Yet wait.

The Swiss are marksmen true,

So all the world doth say:

That fair-haired stripling hither bring;

We'll try their skill to-day."

Hard by, a spreading lime-tree stood;
To this the youth was bound;
They placed an apple on his head ;-
He looked in wonder round.

"The fault is mine, if fault there be," Cried TELL in accents wild;

"On manhood let your vengeance fall,

But spare, oh spare my child!"

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"I will not harm the pretty boy,"

Said Gesler tauntingly;

"If blood of his shall stain the ground, Yours will the murder be.

Draw light your bow, my cunning man,
Your straightest arrow take;
For, know, yon apple is your mark,
Your liberty the stake."

A mingled noise of grief and wrath
Was heard among the crowd;
The men they muttered curses deep,
The women wept aloud.

Full fifty paces from his child,

His cross-bow in his hand,
With lip compressed, and flashing eye,
TELL firmly took his stand.

Sure, full enough of pain and woe
This crowded earth has been;
But never, since the curse began,
A sadder sight was seen.

Then spake aloud the gallant boy,

Impatient of delay:

"Shoot straight and quick, thine aim is sure;

Thou can'st not miss to-day."

"Heaven bless thee now!" the parent said,

"Thy courage shames my fear;

Man tramples on his brother man,

But God is ever near!"

William Tell.

The bow was bent, the arrow went,

As by an angel guided;

In pieces two, beneath the tree,

The apple fell divided.

"'Twas bravely done," the ruler said, "My plighted word I keep;

'Twas bravely done by sire and son,-Go home, and feed your sheep."

"No thanks I give thee for the boon,"

The peasant coldly said;

"To God alone my praise is due,

And duly shall be paid.

Yet know, proud man, thy fate was near,

Had I but missed my aim;

Not unavenged my child had died,—

Thy parting hour the same.

For see! a second shaft was here,

If harm my boy befell:

Now go and bless the heavenly powers

My first has sped so well."

God helped the right, God spared the sin:
He brings the proud to shame;

He guards the weak against the strong,

Praise to his holy name!

REV. J. H. GURNEY.

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