Old Tell will spurn the tyrant." Here his voice
Stopt utterance, for his heart was full; and now 195
The vales of Altorf rang with loud acclame,
And all Helvetia's sons betook to arms.
But Griesler's heart was harden'd, and his eyes
Were stricken blind by Heaven's celestial wrath.
For thus it is with tyrants; they nor care,
Nor feel for human misery, but proceed
With blind infatuation, heaping ills
On ills reiterate, until at last
The limping feet of justice overtake
Their long-repeated injuries, and they
Unwept, unpitied, unlamented die.
And such was Griesler's fate; madden'd with rage
The insensate tyrant seiz'd the aged sire,
Whose venerable locks, and grave aspect
Had to commiseration mov'd e'en brutes,
And with out-wanton'd wantonness inflicts
A punishment, that e'en malignity,
Come hot from deepest hell, could scarce have fram'd. This venerable hero had a son,
Born in his age, his hope, and prop of life,
In whom Helvetia saw the father's worth,
And mark'd him for her own: him Griesler's guards,
Fager to obey their master, instant seiz'd,
And brought before the tyrant, who with smiles
Deeply malignant thus the sire address'd;
"And think'st thou, haughty rebel! that a rout
Of unarm'd rabble can my power defy,
Back'd by the strength of Austrian Albert's arm?
Know, base-born slave! who bear'st a name unknown,
Even unto thy countrymen, that thou,
And such as thou, whom Heaven hath plac'd beneath
Our rule and guidance, should with fear and awe
Name e'en our name, much less dispute our will.
But since with impious tongue thou dar'st to doubt
The wisdom of our acts, and hast forgot
Our heavenly appointment, know 'tis fit
A bright example should be made of thee,
And this thy offspring; hear then our resolve;
Soon as the morning sun shall gild the tops
Of yon proud mountains with its early rays,
Thee and thy son my guards shall straight conduct Unto the market-place of Altorf, there
On pain of instant death to him, and thee,
I charge thee aim thy arrow at an apple
Plac'd on the youngster's head, which if thou miss 240
Thou certain diest: thus shall these rebels know
The power of him whom they have dar'd provoke."
Thus spake the tyrant, and the heart of Tell,
Whom even dungeons, and the keenest racks
Had scarce appall'd, paternal love, and fear
Transpierced through; and thus with faultering
tongue
The veteran exclaim'd; "O spare my son!
His youth, his innocence do loudly plead
In his behalf; I am alone the cause;
Let me then only die; I stand prepar'd."
But tyrants know no mercy in their wrath,
'Tis on the feelings of mankind they act,
And how they outrage these is not their care.
Thus Griesler, when he saw the aged sire
Shrink back with horrour from his damn'd decree,
His harden'd heart rejoic'd with double joy, 256
And grinning malice thus the despot spake ;
"Have I at last, thou proud rebellious! found
The means to curb thy daring spirit? Know
That Griesler ne'er recalls what is pronounc'd; 260-
And mark, one moment shouldst thou hesitate,
That moment dies thy son before thy face."
He said, and straight the guards their prisoners lodg'd
In a deep dungeon's sad security.
And now the circling Hours led forth the Sun 265 Thro' the eastern gates of heav'n; when Altorf's
Whom sleep, that sooths the cares of other men,
Had nor refresh'd, nor sooth'd, for if perchance
Some minds oppress'd with overwhelming toil
Sunk into wakeful slumbers, phantoms dire,
And all that fancy unrestrain'd by judgment
Could form, or feature to affrighted minds
Rose into view, but most of all the fate
Of their revered Tell, which, being unknown,
Was trebly horrible, fill'd all with woe.
But now they rose, call'd by the radiate beams
Of the far-piercing sun. Them Melchdal saw
277, 285, 286. Arnold Melchdal, Walter Furst, and Werner Stouffacher were three of the principal leaders of the revolution. See Salmon's Modern History.
Assembling, thick as autumn's falling leaves,
With bold inquiry fraught, for much their hearts
Yearn'd for the sufferers, in whose fate they saw 280
Their own best rights, and privileges involv'd;
And Melchdal's heart was gladden'd at the sight:
His labouring breast had many sleepless nights
Been pondering o'er Helvetia's wretched lot;
Nor did his bold compeers, the intrepid Furst, 285
And Stouffacher, not second his designs:
These patriots knew that man lost half his worth
The moment that he ceased to be free;
And though by fear and terrour tyrants rule,
And triumph o'er men's minds, (which truth in
The imprison'd Tell too well illustrated,)
Yet tyranny but triumphs for a time,
And truth, and reason will return at last.
When these compatriots saw Helvetia's sons Recover'd from their trance, (for Griesler's bold, 295 And daring deed had overawed their minds,)
As a fond father hastens to redeem
An only son, whom some proud Algerine,
Or base Tunisian corsair has enslav'd;
So them the patriots hasten'd to relume
With freedom's holy light. Alas! how hid
From mortal eye is dark futurity !
Scarce had they reach'd the assembly, and the waves
Of popular acclamation 'gan subside;
When on a sudden the loud trumpet's voice,
With the shrill clarion, and the hollow sound
Of the ground-shaking hoof, renew'd their fears.
And lo! the tyrant's dreaded form appear'd
Looking fix'd hate; around him throng'd his guards
In close battalion, and in the midst were seen 310
The god-like veteran, and his dauntless son;
When thus the herald's voice aloud proclaim'd;
"Ye sons of Altorf! Since ye thus have dar'd
Dispute our sovereign will, and disobey
Our just and wise commands; we have resolv'd 315
To check rebellion at the fountain-head,
And give a lesson to futurity.
Thus then we have ordain'd, that the elder Tell,
Placing an apple on the younger's head,
Aim at it with his arrow; if he miss
He instant dies, and should he hesitate,
That moment dies his son before his face,
Nor shall himself escape. Thus shall ye
The power of him whom ye have dar'd provoke.”
"Twixt word, and deed, there was no space of time;
Already had the armed slaves fulfill'd
The orders of their leader, and around
The unhappy sufferers stood in firm array ;
While the astonish'd multitude without
Were mute with fear; when thus the aged sire 330
Pour'd out to heaven's King his pious prayer;
"Almighty Pow'r! who know'st the hearts of men
Without the utterance of words! O hear
A father's wishes; spare, O spare my son!
And from thy holy fountain, Gracious God!
Pour forth a beam of mercy o'er our sins!”
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