KUNZ.
The storm grows worse and worse. So, fare ye well!
I'll go and seek out quarters in the village.
There's not a chance of getting off to-day.
[Exit]
FISHER.
Tell dragg'd to prison, and the Baron dead!
Now, tyranny, exalt thy brazen front,-
Throw every shame aside! Truth's voice is dumb!
The eye that watch'd for us, in darkness closed,
The arm that should have struck thee down, in chains!
BOY.
'Tis hailing hard-come, let us to the hut!
This is no weather to be out in, father!
FISHER.
Rage on, ye winds! Ye lightnings, flash your fires!
Burst, ye swollen clouds! Ye cataracts of Heaven
Descend, and drown the country! In the germ
Destroy the generations yet unborn!
Ye savage elements, be lords of all!
Return, ye bears: ye ancient wolves, return
To this wide howling waste! The land is yours.
Who would live here, when liberty is gone?
BOY.
Hark! How the wind whistles, and the whirlpool roars.
I never saw a storm so fierce as this!
FISHER.
To level at the head of his own child!
Never had father such command before.
And shall not Nature, rising in wild wrath,
Revolt against the deed? I should not marvel,
Though to the lake these rocks should bow their heads,
Though yonder pinnacles, yon towers of ice,
That, since creation's dawn, have known no thaw,
Should, from their lofty summits, melt away,-
Though yonder mountains, yon primeval cliffs,
Should topple down, and a new deluge whelm
Beneath its waves all living men's abodes!
[Bells heard.]
BOY.
Hark, they are ringing on the mountain, yonder!
They surely see some vessel in distress.
And toll the bell that we may pray for it.
[Ascends a rock.]
FISHER.
Woe to the bark that now pursues its course,
Rock'd in the cradle of these storm-tost waves!
Nor helm nor steersman here can aught avail;
The storm is master. Man is like a ball,
Toss'd 'twixt the winds and billows. Far or near,
No haven offers him its friendly shelter!
Without one ledge to grasp, the sheer smooth rocks
Look down inhospitably on his despair,
And only tender him their flinty breasts.
BOY (calling from above).
Father, a ship: from Fluelen bearing down.
FISHER.
Heaven pity the poor wretches! When the storm
Is once entangled in this strait of ours,
It rages like some savage beast of prey,
Struggling against its cage's iron bars!
Howling, it seeks an outlet-all in vain;
For the rocks hedge it round on every side,
Walling the narrow gorge as high as Heaven.
[He ascends a cliff.]
BOY.
It is the Governor of Uri's ship;
By its red poop I know it, and the flag.
FISHER.
Judgments of Heaven! Yes, it is he himself,
It is the Governor! Yonder he sails,
And with him bears the burden of his crimes.
The avenger's arm has not been slow to strike!
Now over him he knows a mightier lord.
These waves yield no obedience to his voice.
These rocks bow not their heads before his cap.
Boy, do not pray; stay not the Judge's arm!
BOY.
I pray not for the Governor, I pray
For Tell, who's with him there on board the ship.
FISHER.
Alas, ye blind, unreasoning elements!
