The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 241

FURST.

Be calm, be calm; and bear it like a man!

MELCHTHAL.

And all for me--for my mad wilful folly!

Blind, did you say? Quite blind--and both his eyes?

STAUFFACHER.

Even so. The fountain of his sight's dried up.

He ne'er will see the blessed suns.h.i.+ne more.

FURST.

Oh, spare his anguis.h.!.+

MELCHTHAL.

Never, never more!

[Presses his hands upon his eyes and is silent for some moments; then turning from one to the other, speaks in a subdued tone, broken by sobs.

O the eye's light, of all the gifts of heaven, The dearest, best! From light all beings live-- Each fair created thing--the very plants Turn with a joyful transport to the light, And he--he must drag on through all his days In endless darkness! Never more for him The sunny meads shall glow, the flowerets bloom; Nor shall he more behold the roseate tints Of the iced mountain top! To die is nothing, But to have life, and not have sight--oh, that Is misery indeed! Why do you look So piteously at me? I have two eyes, Yet to my poor blind father can give neither!

No, not one gleam of that great sea of light, That with its dazzling splendor floods my gaze.

STAUFFACHER.

Ah, I must swell the measure of your grief, Instead of soothing it. The worst, alas!

Remains to tell. They've stripped him of his all; Naught have they left him, save his staff, on which, Blind and in rags, he moves from door to door.

MELCHTHAL.

Naught but his staff to the old eyeless man!

Stripped of his all--even of the light of day, The common blessing of the meanest wretch.

Tell me no more of patience, of concealment!

Oh, what a base and coward thing am I, That on mine own security I thought And took no care of thine! Thy precious head Left as a pledge within the tyrant's grasp!

Hence, craven-hearted prudence, hence! And all My thoughts be vengeance, and the despot's blood!

I'll seek him straight--no power shall stay me now-- And at his hands demand my father's eyes.

I'll beard him 'mid a thousand myrmidons!

What's life to me, if in his heart's best blood I cool the fever of this mighty anguish.

[He is going.

FURST.

Stay, this is madness, Melchthal! What avails Your single arm against his power? He sits At Sarnen high within his lordly keep, And, safe within its battlemented walls, May laugh to scorn your unavailing rage.

MELCHTHAL.

And though he sat within the icy domes Of yon far Schreckhorn--ay, or higher, where Veiled since eternity, the Jungfrau soars, Still to the tyrant would I make my way; With twenty comrades minded like myself, I'd lay his fastness level with the earth!

And if none follow me, and if you all, In terror for your homesteads and your herds, Bow in submission to the tyrant's yoke, I'll call the herdsmen on the hills around me, And there beneath heaven's free and boundless roof, Where men still feel as men, and hearts are true Proclaim aloud this foul enormity!

STAUFFACHER (to FURST).

'Tis at its height--and are we then to wait Till some extremity----

MELCHTHAL.

What extremity Remains for apprehension, where men's eyes Have ceased to be secure within their sockets?

Are we defenceless? Wherefore did we learn To bend the crossbow--wield the battle-axe?

What living creature, but in its despair, Finds for itself a weapon of defence?

The baited stag will turn, and with the show Of his dread antlers hold the hounds at bay; The chamois drags the huntsman down the abyss; The very ox, the partner of man's toil, The sharer of his roof, that meekly bends The strength of his huge neck beneath the yoke, Springs up, if he's provoked, whets his strong horn, And tosses his tormenter to the clouds.

FURST.

If the three Cantons thought as we three do, Something might, then, be done, with good effect.

STAUFFACHER.

When Uri calls, when Unterwald replies, Schwytz will be mindful of her ancient league. [8]

MELCHTHAL.

I've many friends in Unterwald, and none That would not gladly venture life and limb If fairly backed and aided by the rest.

Oh, sage and reverend fathers of this land, Here do I stand before your riper years, An unskilled youth whose voice must in the Diet Still be subdued into respectful silence.

Do not, because that I am young and want Experience, slight my counsel and my words.

'Tis not the wantonness of youthful blood That fires my spirit; but a pang so deep That even the flinty rocks must pity me.

You, too, are fathers, heads of families, And you must wish to have a virtuous son To reverence your gray hairs and s.h.i.+eld your eyes With pious and affectionate regard.

Do not, I pray, because in limb and fortune You still are una.s.sailed, and still your eyes Revolve undimmed and sparkling in their spheres; Oh, do not, therefore, disregard our wrongs!

Above you, too, doth hang the tyrant's sword.

You, too, have striven to alienate the land From Austria. This was all my father's crime: You share his guilt and may his punishment.

STAUFFACHER (to FURST).

Do then resolve! I am prepared to follow.

FURST.

First let us learn what steps the n.o.ble lords Von Sillinen and Attinghaus propose.

Their names would rally thousands in the cause.

MELCHTHAL.

Is there a name within the Forest Mountains That carries more respect than thine--and thine?

To names like these the people cling for help With confidence--such names are household words.

Rich was your heritage of manly virtue, And richly have you added to its stores.

What need of n.o.bles? Let us do the work Ourselves. Although we stood alone, methinks We should be able to maintain our rights.

STAUFFACHER.

The n.o.bles' wrongs are not so great as ours.

The torrent that lays waste the lower grounds Hath not ascended to the uplands yet.

But let them see the country once in arms They'll not refuse to lend a helping hand.

FURST.

Were there an umpire 'twixt ourselves and Austria, Justice and law might then decide our quarrel.

But our oppressor is our emperor, too, And judge supreme. 'Tis G.o.d must help us, then, And our own arm! Be yours the task to rouse The men of Schwytz; I'll rally friends in Uri.

But whom are we to send to Unterwald?

MELCHTHAL.

Thither send me. Whom should it more concern?

FURST.

No, Melchthal, no; thou art my guest, and I Must answer for thy safety.

MELCHTHAL.