The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Baumgarten, say you? A most worthy man.
Has he escaped, and is he safely hid?
STAUFF.
Your son-in-law conveyed him o'er the lake, And he lies hidden in my house at Steinen.
He brought the tidings with him of a thing That has been done at Sarnen, worse than all, A thing to make the very heart run blood!
FuRST (_attentively_).
Say on. What is it?
STAUFF.
There dwells in Melchthal, then, Just as you enter by the road from Kerns, An upright man, named Henry of the Halden, A man of weight and influence in the Diet.
FuRST.
Who knows him not? But what of him? Proceed!
STAUFF.
The Landenberg, to punish some offense Committed by the old man's son, it seems, Had given command to take the youth's best pair Of oxen from his plough; on which the lad Struck down the messenger and took to flight.
FuRST.
But the old father--tell me, what of him?
STAUFF.
The Landenberg sent for him, and required He should produce his son upon the spot; And when the old man protested, and with truth, That he knew nothing of the fugitive, The tyrant call'd his torturers.
FuRST (_springs up and tries to lead him to the other side_).
Hush, no more!
STAUFFACHER (_with increasing warmth_).
"And though thy son," he cried, "has 'scaped me now, I have thee fast, and thou shalt feel my vengeance."
With that they flung the old man to the ground, And plunged the pointed steel into his eyes.
FuRST.
Merciful Heaven!
MELCHTHAL (_rus.h.i.+ng out_).
Into his eyes, his eyes?
STAUFFACHER (_addresses himself in astonishment to_ WALTER FuRST).
Who is this youth?
MELCHTHAL (_grasping him convulsively_).
Into his eyes? Speak, speak!
FuRST.
O, miserable hour!
STAUFF.
Who is it, tell me!
[STAUFFACHER _makes a sign to him_.]
It is his son! All-righteous Heaven!
MELCH.
And I Must be from thence! What! into both his eyes?
FuRST.
Be calm, be calm; and bear it like a man!
MELCH.
And all for me--for my mad wilful folly!
Blind, did you say? Quite blind--and both his eyes?
STAUFF.
Ev'n so. 'The fountain of his sight is quench'd, He ne'er will see the blessed suns.h.i.+ne more.
FuRST.
Oh, spare his anguis.h.!.+
MELCH.
Never, never more!
[_Presses his hands upon his eyes and is silent for some moments: then turning from one to the other speaks in a subdued tone, broken by sobs._]
O the eye's light, of all the gifts of Heaven, The dearest, best! From light all beings live-- Each fair created thing--the very plants Turn with a joyful transport to the light, And he--he must drag on through all his days In endless darkness! Never more for him The sunny meads shall glow, the flow'rets bloom; Nor shall he more behold the roseate tints Of the iced mountain top! To die is nothing.
But to have life, and not have sight--oh, that Is misery indeed! Why do you look So piteously at me? I have two eyes, Yet to my poor blind father can give neither!
No, not one gleam of that great sea of light, That with its dazzling splendor floods my gaze.
STAUFF.
