| |
(From Act IV, Scene III) Translated by C. T. Brooks
HE must needs come along this hollow pass; | |
| No other road will lead to Küssnacht. Here | |
| I ’ll do the deed. The opportunity | |
| Is favorable; behind yon elder-bush | |
| I ’ll hide me, and shoot down the fatal shaft; | 5 |
| The narrow way shall shield me from pursuit. | |
| Now, Gessler, settle thy account with Heaven! | |
| ’T is time thou wert gone hence,—thy hour is up. | |
| |
| My life was still and harmless. Save the beast | |
| That roams the forest, not a living thing | 10 |
| Ere felt the shaft directed by my hand; | |
| No thought of murder ever stained my soul,— | |
| But thou hast scared me from my peaceful haunts; | |
| To bloating serpent-poison thou hast changed | |
| The milk of my pure nature, and hast made | 15 |
| Most horrible deeds familiar to my soul. | |
| He who could make a mark of his child’s head | |
| Can aim unerring at his foeman’s heart. | |
| |
| The poor, dear children, little innocents,— | |
| And my true wife; they cry to me for help | 20 |
| Against thy fury, Landvogt! In that hour | |
| When with a trembling hand I drew the string,— | |
| When thou with horrible, with devilish joy | |
| Didst force me at my darling’s head to aim,— | |
| When I in powerless agony knelt to thee,— | 25 |
| Then in my inmost heart I made a vow, | |
| And sealed it with a solemn oath to God, | |
| That the first mark of my next shot should be | |
| Thy heart. The solemn vow silently made | |
| In the tremendous anguish of that hour, | 30 |
| It is a sacred debt, I ’ll pay it now. | |
| |
| Thou art my master and my emperor’s Vogt; | |
| Yet never had the emperor dared to do | |
| What thou hast done. He sent thee to this land | |
| To be our judge, stern, like himself indeed, | 35 |
| But not to gratify thy murderous lust | |
| With deeds of horror, and go all unscathed,— | |
| No, there ’s a God to punish and avenge! | |
| |
| Come forth, thou sometime source of bitter pain, | |
| My costly jewel now, my highest joy,— | 40 |
| Soon thou shalt find a mark, which never yet | |
| The voice of pity or of woe might pierce. | |
| ’T will not be proof ’gainst thee,—and, trusty string! | |
| Thou that so oft hast done me faithful service | |
| In games of pleasure, O, forsake me not | 45 |
| Now in this hour of awful earnestness! | |
| Only this once hold fast, true sinew! thou | |
| That hast so oft winged me the stinging shaft,— | |
| If all in vain, this once the bow I bend, | |
| No second arrow have I here to send. | 50 |
| |
| Upon this bench of stone I ’ll seat myself, | |
| Where oft the traveller rests him by the way,— | |
| For here no home is found. Each hurries on, | |
| Nor stops to ask another’s sorrows. Here | |
| The anxious pedler passes by,—the light | 55 |
| Thinly clad pilgrim and the pious monk,— | |
| The gloomy robber and the gay musician,— | |
| The carrier with his heavy-laden steed, | |
| Who comes from farthest habitable lands, | |
| For every road conducts to the world’s end. | 60 |
| With busy steps they hasten on their way | |
| Each to his several business. Mine is murder! | |
| |
| Time was, dear children, if your sire went out, | |
| There was rejoicing, when he came again; | |
| For ever on ’s return he brought you home | 65 |
| Some lovely Alpine flower or rare bird, | |
| Or other wondrous offspring of the mountains. Now | |
| He seeks for other spoil; on the wild way | |
| He sits with murderous thoughts. His foeman’s life,— | |
| It is for that your sire is lurking now. | 70 |
| And yet on you alone he thinks as ever, | |
| Dear children, to protect your innocent heads, | |
| And save you from the tyrant’s vengeance, now | |
| He ’s forced with deadly aim to bend his bow! | |
| |
| I lie in wait for noble game. The hunter | 75 |
| Tires not of roaming all the livelong day | |
| In stern midwinter, making perilous leaps | |
| From rock to rock, or climbing slippery heights, | |
| Gluing his path with blood, and all for what? | |
| All to entrap a miserable chamois! | 80 |
| Here is a far more costly prize at stake, | |
| The heart of the fell foe who seeks my life. | |
| |
| All my life long this bow has been to me | |
| My most familiar friend, I ’ve trained myself | |
| By rules of archery, and oftentimes | 85 |
| I ’ve pierced the target-spot and brought me home | |
| Full many a noble prize from shooting-match. | |
| To-day I ’ll make my master-shot, and win | |
| The proudest prize in all the mountains round. | |
| |
