The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Iii Part 90

I only laid my staff across the fists Of the pert varlet, when before my eyes, By order of the governor, he tried To drive away my handsome team of oxen.

FuRST.

You are too rash by far. He did no more Than what the governor had ordered him.

You had transgress'd, and therefore should have paid The penalty, however hard, in silence.

MELCH.

Was I to brook the fellow's saucy gibe-- "That if the peasant must have bread to eat, Why, let him go and draw the plough himself?"

It cut me to the very soul to see My oxen, n.o.ble creatures, when the knave Unyoked them from the plough. As though they felt The wrong, they lowed and b.u.t.ted with their horns.

On this I could contain myself no longer, And, overcome by pa.s.sion, struck him down.

FuRST.

O, we old men can scarce command ourselves!

And can we wonder youth breaks out of bounds?

MELCH.

I'm only sorry for my father's sake!

To be away from him, that needs so much My fostering care! The governor detests him, Because, whene'er occasion served, he has Stood stoutly up for right and liberty.

Therefore they'll bear him hard--the poor old man!

And there is none to s.h.i.+eld him from their grip.

Come what come may, I must go home again.

FuRST.

Compose yourself, and wait in patience till We get some tidings o'er from Unterwald.

Away I away! I hear a knock! Perhaps A message from the Viceroy! Get thee in!

You are not safe from Landenberger's[42] arm In Uri, for these tyrants pull together.

MELCH.

They teach us Switzers what _we_ ought to do.

FuRST.

Away! I'll call you when the coast is clear.

[MELCHTHAL _retires_.]

Unhappy youth! I dare not tell him all The evil that my boding heart predicts!

Who's there? The door ne'er opens, but I look For tidings of mishap. Suspicion lurks With darkling treachery in every nook.

Even to our inmost rooms they force their way, These myrmidons of power; and soon we'll need To fasten bolts and bars upon our doors.

[_He opens the door, and steps back in surprise as_ WERNER STAUFFACHER _enters_.]

What do I see? You, Werner? Now, by Heaven!

A valued guest, indeed. No man e'er set His foot across this threshold, more esteem'd, Welcome! thrice welcome, Werner, to my roof!

What brings you here? What seek you here in Uri?

STAUFFACHER (_shakes_ FuRST by _the hand_).

The olden times and olden Switzerland.

FuRST.

You bring them with you. See how glad I am, My heart leaps at the very sight of you.

Sit down--sit down, and tell me how you left Your charming wife, fair Gertrude? Iberg's child, And clever as her father. Not a man That wends from Germany, by Meinrad's Cell,[43]

To Italy, but praises far and wide Your house's hospitality. But say, Have you come here direct from Fluelen, And have you noticed nothing on your way, Before you halted at my door?

STAUFFACHER (_sits down_).

I saw A work in progress, as I came along, I little thought to see--that likes me ill.

FuRST.

O friend! you've lighted on my thought at once.

STAUFF.

Such things in Uri ne'er were known before.

Never was prison here in man's remembrance, Nor ever any stronghold but the grave.

FuRST.

You name it well. It is the grave of freedom.

STAUFF.

Friend, Walter Furst, I will be plain with you.

No idle curiosity it is That brings me here, but heavy cares. I left Thraldom at home, and thraldom meets me here.

Our wrongs, e'en now, are more than we can bear, And who shall tell us where they are to end?

From eldest time the Switzer has been free, Accustom'd only to the mildest rule.

Such things as now we suffer ne'er were known, Since herdsman first drove cattle to the hills.

FuRST.

Yes, our oppressions are unparallel'd!

Why, even our own good lord of Attinghaus, Who lived in olden times, himself declares They are no longer to be tamely borne.

STAUFF.

In Unterwalden yonder 'tis the same; And b.l.o.o.d.y has the retribution been.

The imperial Seneschal, the Wolfshot, who At Rossberg dwelt, long'd for forbidden fruit-- Baumgarten's wife, that lives at Alzellen, He tried to make a victim to his l.u.s.t, On which the husband slew him with his age.

FuRST.

O, Heaven is just in all its judgments still!