SACRIST.

There are three Cantons here. Which hath the right

To give the head to the united Council?

Schwytz may contest that dignity with Uri,

We Unterwald'ners enter not the field.

MELCH.

We stand aside. We are but suppliants here,

Invoking aid from our more potent friends.

STAUFF.

Let Uri have the sword. Her banner takes,

In battle, the precedence of our own.

FURST.

Schwytz, then, must share the honour of the sword;

For she's the honoured ancestor of all.

ROSSEL.

Let me arrange this generous controversy.

Uri shall lead in battle-Schwytz in Council.

FURST. (gives Stauffacher his hand).

Then take your place.

STAUFF.

Not I. Some older man.

HOFE.

Ulrich, the smith, is the most aged here.

MAUER.

A worthy man, but not a freeman; no!-

No bondman can be judge in Switzerland.

STAUFF.

Is not Herr Reding here, our old Landamman?

Where can we find a worthier man than he?

FURST.

Let him be Amman and the Diet's chief!

You that agree with me, hold up your hands!

[All hold up their right hands.]

REDING. (stepping into the center).

I cannot lay my hands upon the books;

But by yon everlasting stars I swear,

Never to swerve from justice and the right.

[The two swords are placed before him, and a circle formed; Schwytz in

the centre, Uri on his right, Unterwald on his left.]

REDING. (resting on his battle sword).

Why, at the hour when spirits walks the earth,

Meet the three Cantons of the mountains here,

Upon the lake's inhospitable shore?

What may the purport be of this new league

We here contract beneath the starry heaven?

STAUFF. (entering the circle).

'Tis no new league that here we now contract,

But one fathers framed, in ancient times,

We purpose to renew! For know, confederates,

Though mountain ridge and lake divide our bounds,

And each Canton by its own laws is ruled,

Yet are we but one race, born of one blood,

And all are children of one common home.

WINK.

Is then the burden of our legends true,

That we came hither from a distant land?

Oh, tell us what you know, that our new league

May reap fresh vigour from the leagues of old.

STAUFF.

Hear, then, what aged herdsmen tell. There dwelt

A mighty people in the land that lies

Back to the north. The scourge of famine came;

And in this strait 'twas publicly resolved,

That each tenth man, on whom the lot might fall,

Should leave the country. They obey'd-and forth,

With loud lamentings, men and women went,

A mighty host; and to the south moved on.

Cutting their way through Germany by the sword,

Until they gained these pine-clad hills of ours;

Nor stopp'd they ever on their forward course,

Till at the shaggy dell they halted, where

The Muta flows through its luxuriant meads.

No trace of human creature met their eye,

Save one poor hut upon the desert shore,

Where dwelt a lonely man, and kept the ferry.

A tempest raged-the lake rose mountains high

And barr'd their further progress. Thereupon

They view'd the country-found it rich in wood,

Discover'd goodly springs, and felt as they

Were in their own dear native land once more.

Then they resolved to settle on the spot;

Erected there the ancient town of Schwytz;

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