Ges. Well! choose thyself. Gesler hands to Tell the basket of apples. Tell selects one. After some farther parleying with the tyrant, the lad is placed at the proper distance, with the apple on his head. His own bow is handed to Tell, who then calls for his quiver of arrows. Ges. Give him a single arrow. [Soldier hands Tell an arrow. Tell. [To the soldier.] Do you shoot'? Sold. I do. Tell. Is't so' you pick an arrow, friend'? The point', you see', is blunt'—the feather jagg'd';' That's all the use 'tis fit for. Ges. Let him have Another. Tell. Why', 'tis better than the first', But yet not good enough for such an aim As I'm to take. 'Tis heavy in the shaft: [Breaks it. I'll not shoot with it! [Throws it away.] Let me see my quiver. Bring' it! 'Tis not one arrow in a dozen I'd take to shoot with at a dove'; much less A dove like that'! What is't you fear'? I'm but A naked man'! a wretched, naked man'! Your helpless thrall,2 alone in the midst of you, With every one of you a weapon in His hand. What can I do in such a strait, Will you give it me', or not'? Ges. It matters not. Show him the quiver. You're resolved, I see, Nothing shall please you. Tell kneels, and picks out an arrow, which he hides under his vest, and then selects another. In reply to Gesler's remark, that he was resolved nothing should please him, Tell continues: Tell. Am I so'? That's strange'; That's very' strange! Is the boy ready'? Ges. Yes. Tell. I'm ready, too! Keep silence, every one' 'Tis only for the chance of saving' it! As Tell shoots, a shout of wonder and exultation bursts from the crowd. The apple is pierced through the centre! Albert rushes in, and throws himself into the arms of his father, who, forgetting himself in the joy of the moment, lets fall the arrow which he had concealed under his vest. In reply to Gesler's demand, "How came the arrow there'?" Tell boldly replies, "To kill thee, tyrant, had I slain my son !" Gesler, in a rage not unmixed with terror, declared that, although he had promised Tell his life, he should pass it in a dungeon; and, taking his cap tive bound, he started in a boat to cross the Lake of Lucerne to his fortress. But a violent storm arising, Tell was set at liberty, and the helm committed to his hands. He guided the boat successfully to the shore, when, seizing his bow, by a daring leap he sprang upon a rock, leaving the boat to wrestle with the billows. Gesler escaped the storm, but only to fall, soon after, by the unerring arrow of Tell. The death of Gesler was the signal for a general rising of the Swiss people in the cause of freedom. They soon drove out the Austrian garrisons; and Switzerland is a free country to this day. a GES'-LER (hard g). b MOUNT-AIN-EERS', dwellers in the mountains. CAP-PALL-ING, depressing; filling with terror. d BE-GIRT', Surrounded. • BRINK, edge; margin. RIV'-ETs, holds or fastens firmly. GAP-ING, yawning; opening before one. h VOID, open space; abyss. TRE-MOR, a trembling; shivering. I STU ́-PE-FIED, made dull or stupid. * EARN'-EST, part payment, given as pledge that the whole will be paid. Cov'-ET, wish; desire; long for. m TEN'-ANT, resident; dweller. ณ n EN-SUES', takes place; occurs. • IN-GRAT'-I-TUDE, unthankfulness. P OF'-FERED, declared a willingness; prof- 9 FET-TERS, chains for a prisoner. ▾ MAN'-DATE, command. w GRACE, favor; kindness; disposition to oblige another. * PÄR-LEY-ING, discussing; conferring with; contending. Y JAG'GED, notched; rough. 2 THRALL, slave; a dependent. [This story, founded on fact, and of which William Tell is the hero, is a poem, written in the dramatic form, and in blank verse. What is blank verse? (See p. viii.) Only some detached portions of the drama are given here; and, for the purpose of suitably connecting the parts selected, some explanatory matter has been introduced in prose, and made to form a part of the reading-lessons. What is dramatic poetry? (See p. ix.) This poem belongs to that division of dramatic writings called tragedy. (Why?) Tragedy generally ends unhappily; but this is not essential to its character. Tragedy, treating of the same subjects as epic poetry, is distinguished from the latter by being a direct imitation of human manners and actions-by the introduction of persons who speak and act their parts; whereas, the epic poem exhibits characters at second hand-by the narration and description of the poet, as in the great epic poems mentioned on p. ix. The very greatest variety of tones, emphasis, and inflections is often required in the reading of dramatic pieces; because in such writings free scope is given to the representation of the emotions and passions of the speakers. This is especially the case in soliloquy, which is often introduced in the drama. See the opening speech by Gesler, p. 223, an excellent selection for recitation: also Gesler's speech on page 229.] LESSON LXXIX. BATTLE-SONG FOR FREEDOM. 1. MEN of action'! men of might'!* Stern defenders of the right'! 2. Have you marked and trenched the ground, Ere the victor can be crowned'? * Cases of direct address generally have the rising inflection (see Rule II.); but they may be rendered more emphatic by giving them the falling inflection. (See Note to Rule VIII.) 3. Have you guarded well the coast'? 4. Have you counted up the cost- 6. Lost-desert of manly worth'; h 9. From your hearths, and homes, and altars, He is not a man that falters. 10. Hush'! The hour of fate is nigh'! [This is a patriotic piece. To what division of poetry does it belong? Why? The style is bold and nervous. Why? Why does the reading of the piece require loud force-abrupt stress-somewhat rapid time-high pitch, and the orotund tone? (See pp. xii., xv.)] TIME, patience, and industry, are the three great masters of the world. Deliberate with caution, but act with decision: yield with graciousness, or oppose with firmness. LESSON LXXX. THE CAPTIVE. 1. As I walked down the stairs, I said to myself, "We paint the evils of life with too hard and dark a coloring. The mind is terrified by the objects she has herself magnified and blackened. Reduce them to their proper size and hue, and she overlooks them. 2. ""Tis true," said I, "the jail is not an evil to be despised; but strip it of its towers, fill up the moat, and unbolt the doors-call it simply a confinement, and one half of the evil vanishes, and you bear the other half without complaint." 3. I had proceeded thus far in my reflections, when I was interrupted by a voice which I took to be that of a child, which exclaimed, "I can't get out." I looked up and down the passage, and seeing neither man, woman, nor child, I went on without farther attention. On my return through the passage, I heard the same words repeated twice over; and, looking up, I saw they came from a starling, in a little cage. "I can't get out—I can't get out," said the starling.a 4. I stood looking at the bird; and whenever any one came through the passage, it ran fluttering to the side of the cage, with the same lamentation of its captivity. "I can't get out," said the starling. "I will let thee out," said I, "cost what it will." So I turned about the cage to get at the door; it was twisted, and double-twisted so fast with wire, there was no getting it open without pulling the cage in pieces. I took both hands to it. 5. The bird flew to the place where I was attempting his deliverance, and thrusting his head through the trellis, pressed his breast against it, as if impatient to escape. "I fear, poor creature," said I, "that I can not set thee at liberty." "No," said the starling, "I can't get out—I can't get out." |