LESSON XCVII.

GIVE each letter its full and correct sound.-Gov-ern-or, not gov'nor: come-li-ness, not come-li-niss: e-rect, not e-rec: hon-or-a-ble, not hon-rer-ble: hands, not han's: venge-ance, not venge-unce.

Come'-li-ness, n, that which is becoming | Fledge'-ling, n. a young bird.

or graceful.

'Port, n. manner of movement or walk.
At-tire', n. dress, clothes.
Rife, a. prevalent.

Tarn'-ish, v. to soil, to dirty.

Av-a-lanche', n. a vast body of snow
sliding down from a mountain. [give.
Vouch-safe', v. to yield, to condescend, to
Net'-ted, v. caught in a net.

Rec-og-ni'-tion, n. acknowledgment of
acquaintance.

Pre-con-cert'-ed, p. planned beforehand.
Cai'-tiff, n. a mean villain.
Thrall'-dom, n. bondage, slavery.
Scan, v. to examine closely.
Neth'-er, a. lower, lying beneath.
Blanch, v. to turn white.
Gust, n. taste, relish.

WILLIAM TELL.

[The events here referred to, occurred in 1307. Switzerland had been conquered by Austria; and Gesler, one of the basest and most tyrannical of men, was her governor. As a refinement of tyranny, he had his cap elevated on a pole, and commanded that every one should bow before it. William Tell proudly refused to submit to this degrading mark of slavery. He was arrested and carried before the governor. The day before, his son Albert, without the knowledge of his father, had fallen into the hands of Gesler.]

SCENE 1-A Chamber in the Castle.

Enter Gesler, Officers, and Sarnem, with Tell in chains and guarded.

Sar. Down, slave! Behold the governor.
Down! down! and beg for mercy.

Ges. (Seated.) Does he hear?

Sar. He does, but braves thy power.

Officer. Why do n't you smite him for that look?
Ges. Can I believe

My eyes? He smiles! Nay, grasps

His chains as he would make a weapon of them
To lay the smiter dead. (To Tell.)
Why speakest thou not?

Tell. For wonder.

Ges. Wonder?

Tell. Yes, that thou shouldst seem a man.

Ges. What should I seem?

Tell. A monster.

Ges. Ha! Beware! Think on thy chains.

Tell. Though they were doubled, and did weigh me down
Prostrate to earth, methinks I could rise up
Erect, with nothing but the honest pride

+

Of telling thee, usurper, to thy teeth,

Thou art a monster! Think upon thy chains?
How came they on me?

Ges. Darest thou question me?

Tell. Darest thou not answer?

Ges. Do I hear?

Tell. Thou dost.

Ges. Beware my

vengeance.

Tell. Can it more than kill?

Ges. Enough; it can do that.

Tell. No; not enough:

It can not take away the grace

of life;

Its comeliness of look that virtue gives;

+

Its port erect with consciousness of truth;
Its rich attire of honorable deeds;

Its fair report that's rife on good men's tongues:
It can not lay its hands on these, no more
Than it can pluck the brightness from the sun,
Or with polluted finger tarnish it.

Ges. But it can make thee writhe.

Tell. It may.

Ges. And groan.

Tell. It may; and I may cry,

Go on, though it should make me groan again.

Ges. Whence comest thou?

Tell. From the mountains. Wouldst thou learn
What news from them?

Ges. Canst tell me any?

Tell. Ay: they watch no more the avalanche.
Ges. Why so?

Tell. Because they look for thee. The hurricane
Comes +
unawares upon them; from its bed

The torrent breaks, and finds them in its track.

Ges. What do they then?

Tell. Thank heaven, it is not thou!

Thou hast perverted nature in them.

There's not a blessing heaven vouchsafes them, but
The thought of thee-doth wither to a curse.

Ges. That's right! I'd have them like their hills,

That never smile, though+wanton summer tempt
Them e'er so much.

Tell. But they do sometimes smile.

Ges. Ay! when is that?

Tell. When they do talk of vengeance.

Ges. Vengeance? Dare they talk of that?

Tell. Ay, and expect it too.

Ges. From whence?

Tell. From heaven!

Ges. From heaven?

Tell. And their true hands

Are lifted up to it on every hill
For justice on thee.

Ges. Where's thy abode?

Tell. I told thee on the mountains.

Ges. Art married?

Tell. Yes.

Sar. My lord, the boy-(Gesler signs to Sarnem to keep silence, and, whispering, sends him off.)

Tell. The boy? What boy?

Is 't mine? and have they netted my young fledgeling?
Now heaven support me, if they have! He'll own me,
And share his father's ruin! But a look

Would put him on his guard; yet how to give it!
Now, heart, thy nerve; forget thou art flesh, be rock.

They come, they come !`

Upon the ground, how heavy does it fall

That step that step

that little step, so light

Upon my heart! I feel my child!

(Enter Sarnem with

'Tis he! We can but perish.

[carries.)

Sar. See!

Albert, whose eyes are riveted on Tell's bow, which Sarnem

Tell. My boy! my boy! my own brave boy!
He's safe! (Aside.)

Sar. (Aside to Gesler.) They're like each other.
Ges. Yet I see no sign

Or recognition to betray the link

Unites a father and his child.

Sar. My lord,

I am sure it is his father. Look at them.
It may be

+

A preconcerted thing 'gainst such a chance,
That they survey each other coldly thus.
Ges. We shall try. Lead forth the caitiff.
Sar. To a dungeon?

Ges. No; into the court.

Sar. The court, my lord?

Ges. And send

To tell the headsman to make ready. Quick!
The slave shall die! You marked the boy?

Sar. I did. He started; 't is his father.

Ges. We shall see. Away with him!

Tell. Stop! Stop!

Ges. What would you?

Tell. Time! A little time to call my thoughts together.

Ges. Thou shalt not have a minute.

Tell. Some one, then, to speak with.

Ges. Hence with him!

Tell. A moment! Stop!

Let me speak to the boy.

Ges. Is he thy son?

Tell. And if

He were, art thou so lost to nature, as
To send me forth to die before his face?

Ges. Well! speak with him.

Now, Sarnem, mark them well.

Tell. Thou dost not know me, boy; and well for thee
Thou dost not. I'm the father of a son

About thy age. Thou,

I see, wast born like him, upon the hills;

If thou should'st 'scape thy present thralldom, he
May chance to cross thee; if he should, I pray thee
Relate to him what has been passing here,

And say I laid my hand upon thy head,
And said to thee, if he were here, as thou art,

Thus would I bless him. Mayest thou live, my boy!
To see thy country free, or die for her,

As I do! (Albert weeps.)

Sar. Mark! he weeps.

Tell. Were he my son,

He would not shed a tear! He would remember
The cliff where he was bred, and learned to scan
A thousand fathoms' depth of nether air;
Where he was trained to hear the thunder talk,
And meet the lightning eye to eye; where last
We spoke together, when I told him death
Bestowed the brightest gem that graces life,
Embraced for virtue's sake. He shed a tear?
Now were he by, I'd talk to him, and his cheek
Should never blanch, nor moisture dim his eye-
I'd talk to him-

Sar. He falters!

Tell. 'Tis too much!

And yet it must be done! I'd talk to him

Ges. Of what?

Tell. The mother, tyrant, thou dost make

A widow of! I'd talk to him of her.
I'd bid him tell her, next to liberty,
Her name was the last word my lips pronounced.
And I would charge him never to forget
To love and cherish her, as he would have
His father's dying blessing rest upon him!
Sar. You see, as he doth prompt, the other acts.
Tell. So well he bears it, he doth vanquish me.
My boy my boy! O for the hills, the hills,
To see him bound along their tops again,
With liberty.

Sar. Was there not all the father in that look ?

Ges. Yet 't is 'gainst nature.

Sar. Not if he believes

To own the son would be to make him share
The father's death.

Ges. I did not think of that! 'Tis well

The boy is not thy son. I've

To die along with thee.

destined him