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And hurled its arrow to her glorious height,
To reach her heart, and bring her to the ground.'

Dou. Had the harsh tongue of slander so presumed,
My vengeance had not been of that slow sort
To need a prompter; nor shall any arm,
No, not a father's, dare dispute with mine,
The privilege to die in her defense.
Ņone dares accuse Elwina but-

Raby. But who?
Dou. But Douglas.

Raby. (Puts his hand to his sword.) You ?
Oh, spare my age's weakness !
You do not know what 'tis to be a father;
You do not know, or you would pity me,
The thousand tender throbs, the nameless feelings,
The dread to ask, and yet the wish to know,
When we adore and fear; but wherefore fear?
Does not the blood of Raby fill her veins ?

Dou. Percy ;-knowest thou that name?
Raby. How? What of Percy ?
Dou. He loves Elwina, and my curses on him!
He is beloved again.

Raby. I'm on the rack !

Dou. Not the two Theban brothers bore each other Such deep, deadly hate as I and Percy.

Raby. But tell me of my child.

Dou. (Not minding him.) As I and Percy!
When at the marriage rites, Oh rites accursed !
I seized her trembling hạnd, she started back,
Cold horror thrilled her veins, her tears flowed fast.
Fool that I was, I thought 'twas maiden fear :
Dull, doting ignorance : beneath those terrors,
Hatred for me, and love for Percy lurked.

Raby. What proof of guilt is this?

Dou. E'er since our marriage,
Our days have still been cold and joyless all;
Painful restraint, and hatred ill disguised,
Her sole return for my waste of fondness.
This very morn I told her 'twas your will
She should repair to court, with all those graces,
Which first subdued my soul, and still enslave it.
She begged to stay behind in Raby Castle,
For courts and cities had no charms for her.
Curse my blind love! I was again insnared,
And doted on the sweetness which deceived me.

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Just at the hour she thought I should be absent,
For chance could ne'er have timed their guilt so well,
Arrived young Harcourt, one of Percy's knights,
Strictly enjoined to speak to none but her ;
I seized the miscreant: hitherto he's silent;
But tortures soon shall force him to confess.

Raby. Percy is absent. They have never met.

Dou. At what a feeble hold you grasp for succor!
Will it content me that her person's pure ?
No, if her alien heart dotes on another,
She is unchaste, were not that other Percy.
Let vulgar spirits basely wait for proof,
She loves another—'tis enough for Douglas.

Raby. Be patient.

Dou. Be a tame convenient husband, And meanly wait for circumstantial guilt ? No-I am nice as the first Cæsar was, And start at bare suspicion. (Going.)

Raby. (Holding him.) Douglas, hear me: Thou hast named a Roman husband ; if she's false, I mean to prove a Roman father.

SELECTION XXIII.

VERNER-ALBERT-TELL.-Knowles.

Verner. Ah! Albert! What have

you

there?
Albert. My bow and arrows, Verner.
Ver. When will you use them like your father, boy?
Alb. Sometime, I hope.

Ver. You brag ? There's not an archer
In all Helvetia can compare with him.

Alb. But I'm his son: and when I am a man,
I may be like him. Verner, do I brag,
To think I sometime may be like my

father?
If so, then is it he that teaches me;
For, ever as I wonder at his skill,
He calls me boy, and says I must do more
Ere I become a man.

Ver. May you be such
A man as he—if heaven wills, better—I'll
Not quarrel with its work; yet 'twill content me
If you are only such a man.

Alb. I'll show you
How I can shoot. (Goes out to fix the mark.)

Ver. Nestling as he is, he is the making of a bird Will own no cowering wing:

(Re-enter Albert.) Alb. Now, Verner, look! (Shoots.) There's within An inch! Ver. Oh fy! it wants a hand.

(Exit Verner.) Alb. A hand's An inch for me. I'll hit it yet. Now for it! (While Albert

continues to shoot, Tell enters and watches him some time, in silence.)

Tell. That's scarce a miss that comes so near the mark! Well aimed, young archer! With what ease he bends The bow! To see those sinews, who'd believe Such strength did lodge in them? That little arm, His mother's palm can span, may help, anon, To pull a sinewy tyrant from his seat, And from their chains a prostrate people lift To liberty. I'd be content to die, Living to see that day! What, Albert!

Alb. Ah!
My father!

Tell. You raise the bow
Too fast. (Albert continues shooting.)
Bring it slowly to the eye.--You've missed.
How often have you hit the mark to-day?

Alb. Not once, yet.

Tell. You're not steady. I perceived You wavered now. Stand firm. Let every

limb Be braced as marble, and as motionless. Stand like the sculptor's statue, on the gate Of Altorf, that looks life, yet neither breathes Nor stirs. (Albert shoots.) That's better ! See well the mark. Rivet your eye to it! There let it stick, fast as the arrow would, Could you but send it there. (Albert shoots.) You've missed again! How would you fare, Suppose a wolf should cross your path, and you Alone, with but your bow, and only time. To fix a single arrow ? 'Twould not do To miss the wolf! You said, the other day, Were you a man, you'd not let Gesler live'Twas easy to say that. Suppose you, now, Your life or his depended on that shot !Take care! That's Gesler !-Now for liberty! Right to the tyrant's heart! (Hits the mark.) Well done my boy! Come here. How early were you up ?

Alb. Before the sun.
Tell. Ay, strive with him. He never lies abed
When it is time to rise. Be like the sun.

Alb. What you would have me like, I'll be like,
As far as will to labor joined can make me.

Tell. Well said, my boy! Knelt you when you got up To-day?

Alb. I did; and do so every day.

Tell. I know you do! And think you, when you kneel, To whom

you

kneel? Alb. To Him who made

me,

father. Tell. And in whose nanie?

Alb. The name of Him who died
For me and all men, that all men and I
Should live.

Tell. That's right. Remember that, my son:
Forget all things but that—remember that!
'Tis more than friends or fortune ; clothing, food;
All things on earth; yea, life itself !—It is
To live, when these are gone, where they are nought-
With God! My son, remember that!

Alb. I will.

Tell. I'm glad you value what you're taught.
That is the lesson of content, my son ;
He who finds which, has all—who misses, nothing.

Alb. Content is a good thing.

Tell. A thing, the good
Alone can profit by. But go, Albert,
Reach thy cap and wallet, and thy mountain staff.
Don't keep me waiting.

(Exit Albert.) (Tell paces the stage in thought. Re-enter Albert.) Alb. I am ready, father. Tell. (Taking Albert by the hand.) Now mark me, Albert!

Dost thou fear the snow,
The ice-field, or the hail flaw? Carest thou for
The mountain-mist that settles on the peak,
When thou art upon it? Dost thou tremble at
The torrent roaring from the deep ravine,
Along whose shaking ledge thy track doth lie?
Or faintest thou at the thunder-clap, when on
The hill thou art o'ertaken by the cloud,
And it doth burst around thee? Thou must travel

All night.

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Alb. I'm ready; say all night again.

Tell. The mountains are to cross, for thou must reach Mount Faigel by the dawn.

Alb. Not sooner shall
The dawn be there than I.

Tell. Heaven speeding thee.
Alb. Heaven speeding me.

Tell. Show me thy staff. Art sure
Of the point ? I think ’tis loose. No-stay! 'Twill do.
Caution is speed when danger's to be passed.
Examine well the crevice. Do not trust the snow!
'Tis well there is a moon to-night.
You're sure of the track ?

Alb. Quite sure.

Tell. The buskin of
That leg's untied; stoop down and fasten it.
You know the point where you must round the cliff ?

Alb. I do.

Tell. Thy belt is slack_draw it tight. Erni is in Mount Faigel: take this dagger And give it him; you know its caverns well. In one of them you will find him. Farewell.

(They embrace. Exit Albert.)
Eaglet of my heart! When thou wast born,
The land was free! Heavens! with what pride I used
To walk these hills, and look

up my God,
And bless him that it was so. It was free-
From end to end, from cliff to lake-—'twas free!
Free as the torrents are that leap our rocks.
How happy was it then! I loved
Its very storms. I have sat at midnight
In my boat, when midway o'er the lake,
The stars went out, and down the mountain gorge
The wind came roaring. I have sat and eyed
The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled
To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head,
And cried in thralldom to the furious wind,
Blow on! This is the land of liberty !

to

SELECTION XXIV. PRINCE ARTHUR-HUBERT-ATTENDANTS.Shakspeare. Hubert. Heat me these irons hot; and look thou stand Within the arras ; when I strike my foot, Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth,

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