But the old father-tell me, what of him?
STAUFF.
The Landenberg sent for him, and required
He should produce his son upon the spot;
And when the old man protested, and with truth,
That he knew nothing of the fugitive,
The tyrant call'd his torturers.
FURST. (springs up and tries to lead him to the other side).
Hush, no more!
STAUFF. (with increasing warmth).
'And though thy son,' he cried, 'has 'scaped me now,
I have thee fast, and thou shalt feel my vengeance.'
With that they flung the old man to the ground,
And plunged the pointed steel into his eyes.
FURST.
Merciful Heaven!
MELCH. (rushing out).
Into his eyes, his eyes?
STAUFF. (addresses himself in astonishment to Walter Furst).
Who is this youth?
MELCH. (grasping him convulsively).
Into his eyes? Speak, speak!
FURST.
Oh, miserable hour!
STAUFF.
Who is it, tell me?
[Stauffacher makes a sign to him.]
It is his son! All-righteous Heaven!
MELCH.
And I
Must be from thence! What! Into both his eyes?
FURST.
Be calm, be calm; and bear it like a man!
MELCH.
And all for me-for my mad willful folly!
Blind, did you say? Quite blind-and both his eyes?
STAUFF.
Ev'n so. The fountain of his sight is quench'd,
He ne'er will see the blessed sunshine more.
FURST.
Oh, spare his anguish!
MELCH.
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 flow'rets 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 splendour floods my gaze.
STAUFF.
Ah, I must swell the measure of your grief,
Instead of soothing it. The worst, alas!
Remains to tell. They've stripp'd him of his all;
Nought have they left him, save his staff, on which,
Blind, and in rags, he moves from door to door.
MELCH.
Nought but his staff to the old eyeless man!
Stripp'd 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.
