Tell saw the crowd, the lifted cap, "Bow down, ye slaves, bow down!" Stern Gesler marked the peasant's mien, "My knee shall bend," he calmly said, "To God, and God alone: My life is in the Austrian's hand, My conscience is my own." "Seize him, ye guards!" the ruler cried, While passion choked his breath; "He mocks my power, he braves my lord,— He dies the traitor's death. Yet wait the Swiss are marksmen true,— Hard by a spreading lime-tree stood, "The fault is mine, if fault there be,” Cried Tell, in accents wild; "On manhood let your vengeance fall, But spare, oh, spare my child!” "I will not harm the pretty boy," Said Gesler, tauntingly; "If blood of his shall stain the ground, Yours will the murder be. "Draw tight your bow, my cunning man, A mingled noise of wrath and grief Full fifty paces from his child, His cross-bow in his hand, Tell firmly took his stand. Sure, full enough of pain and woe So sad a sight was seen. The noble boy stood bravely up, His cheek unblanched with fear: "Shoot straight," he cried, "thine aim is sure, It will not fail thee here." "Heaven bless thee now," the parent said, 66 Thy courage shames me quite;" Then to his ear the shaft he drew, And watched its whizzing flight. ""Tis done! 'tis done!-the child is safe!" Shouted the multitude; "Man tramples on his brother man, But God is ever good." For, sure enough, the arrow went ""Twas bravely done," the ruler said, "No thanks I give thee for thy boon," The peasant coldly said: "To God alone my praise is due, And duly shall be paid. "Yet know, proud man, thy fate was near: Had I but missed my aim, Not unavenged my child had died, "For, see! a second shaft was here, If harm my boy befell: Now go, and bless the heavenly powers God helped the right, God spared the sin; He brings the proud to shame; He guards the weak against the strong,— Praise to his holy name! FELICIA HEMANS. BORN 1793. DIED 1835. -0 OTHER WRITINGS:- The Forest Sanctuary; The Vespers of Palermo (a tragedy); and many smaller pieces. In the battle of the Nile, which was fought A.D. 1798, Casabianca, a boy about thirteen years old, the son of the Admiral of the French ship “L'Orient," remained at his post after the ship had taken fire, and would not leave without his father's permission. The flames at last reached the powder, and he perished. THE boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but he had fled; A creature of heroic blood, A proud though childlike form. The flames rolled on. He would not go That father, faint in death below, He call'd aloud :-"Say, father! say If yet my task is done!" He knew not that the chieftain lay Unconscious of his son. |