FUeRST.

Yes, our oppressions are unparallel’d! 
Why, even our own good lord of Attinghaus,
Who lived in olden times, himself declares
They are no longer to be tamely borne.

STAUFF.

In Unterwalden yonder ’tis the same;
And bloody has the retribution been. 
The imperial Seneschal, the Wolfshot, who
At Rossberg dwelt, long’d for forbidden fruit—­
Baumgarten’s wife, that lives at Alzellen,
He tried to make a victim to his lust,
On which the husband slew him with his age.

FUeRST.

O, Heaven is just in all its judgments still! 
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!

FUeRST (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.

FUeRST.

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.

FUeRST.

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.

FUeRST (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.

FUeRST.

Merciful Heaven!

MELCHTHAL (rushing out). 
                        Into his eyes, his eyes?

STAUFFACHER (addresses himself in astonishment to WALTER
FUeRST).

Who is this youth?

MELCHTHAL (grasping him convulsively). 
                   Into his eyes?  Speak, speak!

FUeRST.

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?

FUeRST.