By Pierre Klossowski
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Extra info for Roberte et Gulliver
TELL. Because he cannot reach them. Me, I ween, His knightship will be glad to leave in peace. WALT. Where, father, are you going? 64 Schiller HEDW. —Are you sure of that? And saw me, with my sturdy bow in hand, Come striding towards him, his cheek grew pale, His knees refused their office, and I thought He would have sunk against the mountain side. ” But ne’er a sound could he compel his lips To frame in answer. Only with his hand He beckoned me in silence to proceed. TELL. Not long ago, As I was hunting through the wild ravines Of Shechenthal, untrod by mortal foot,— There, as I took my solitary way Along a shelving ledge of rocks, where ’twas Impossible to step on either side; For high above rose, like a giant wall, The precipice’s side, and far below The Shechen thunder’d o’er its rifted bed; So I pass’d on, and sent his train to seek him.
For even there, at vegetation’s verge, Where the numb’d earth is barren of all fruits, Their grasping hands had been for plunder thrust. Into the hearts of all this honest race, The story of my wrongs struck deep, and now They, to a man, are ours; both heart and hand. I saw the Viceroy feasting at his board— Judge if I’m master of myself or no! I saw the tyrant, and I slew him not! STAUFF. How! Venture even into the tiger’s den? MELCH. Disguised in pilgrim’s weeds I entered it; STAUFF. Fortune, indeed, upon your boldness smiled.
The mansion of the Baron of Attinghausen. A Gothic Hall, decorated with escutcheons and helmets. The Baron, a grey-headed man, eighty-five years old, tall and of a commanding mien, clad in a furred pelisse, and leaning on a staff tipped with chamois horn. Kuoni and six hinds standing round him with rakes and scythes. Ulrich of Rudenz enters in the costume of a knight. MELCH. Alas, my old blind father! The day of freedom, that thou canst not see, But thou shalt hear it, when from Alp to Alp The beacon fires throw up their flaming signs, And the proud castles of the tyrants fall, Into thy cottage shall the Switzer burst, Bear the glad tidings to thine ear, and o’er Thy darken’d way shall Freedom’s radiance pour.