Eastern shore of the Lake of Lucerne; rugged and singularly shaped rocks close the prospect to the west. The lake is agitated, violent roaring and rushing of wind, with thunder and lightning at intervals. KUNZ OF GERSAU, FISHERMAN and BOY. KUNZ. I saw it with these eyes! Believe me, friend, It happen'd all precisely as I've said. FISHERMAN. Tell, made a prisoner, and borne off to Kuessnacht? The best man in the land, the bravest arm, Had we resolved to strike for liberty! KUNZ. The Viceroy takes him up the lake in person: They were about to go on board, as I Left Flueelen; but still the gathering storm, That drove me here to land so suddenly, Perchance has hindered their abrupt departure. FISHERMAN. Our Tell in chains, and in the viceroy's power! Oh, trust me, Gessler will entomb him where He never more shall see the light of day; For, Tell once free, the tyrant well may dread The just revenge of one so deep incensed. KUNZ. The old Landamman, too--von Attinghaus-- They say, is lying at the point of death. FISHERMAN. Then the last anchor of our hopes gives way! He was the only man who dared to raise His voice in favor of the people's rights. KUNZ. The storm grows worse and worse. So, fare ye well! I'll go and seek out quarters in the village. There's not a chance of getting off to-day. [Exit. FISHERMAN. Tell dragged to prison, and the baron dead! Now, tyranny, exalt thy insolent front-- Throw shame aside! The voice of truth is silenced, The eye that watched for us in darkness closed, The arm that should have struck thee down in chains! BOY. 'Tis hailing hard--come, let us to the cottage This is no weather to be out in, father! FISHERMAN. Rage on, ye winds! Ye lightnings, flash your fires! Burst, ye swollen clouds! Ye cataracts of heaven, Descend, and drown the country! In the germ, Destroy the generations yet unborn! Ye savage elements, be lords of all! Return, ye bears; ye ancient wolves, return To this wide, howling waste! The land is yours. Who would live here when liberty is gone? BOY. Hark! How the wind whistles and the whirlpool roars; I never saw a storm so fierce as this! FISHERMAN. To level at the head of his own child! Never had father such command before. And shall not nature, rising in wild wrath, Revolt against the deed? I should not marvel, Though to the lake these rocks should bow their heads, Though yonder pinnacles, yon towers of ice, That, since creation's dawn, have known no thaw, Should, from their lofty summits, melt away; Though yonder mountains, yon primeval cliffs, Should topple down, and a new deluge whelm Beneath its waves all living men's abodes! [Bells heard. BOY. Hark! they are ringing on the mountain yonder! They surely see some vessel in distress, And toll the bell that we may pray for it. [Ascends a rock.