haste, "An arrow in thy belt is placed-what means it? Speak!" "To smite thee, tyrant, to the heart, had Heaven so willed it that my dart touched this, my boy!" "Treason! Rebellion! Chain the slave!" A hundred swords around him wave; and hate to Gesler's features gave infuriate joy. They chained the Switzer, arm and limb; they racked him till his eyes grew dim, and reeled his brain. Nor groan, nor pain-rung prayer gave he; but smiled, beneath his belt to see that shaft, whose point he swore should be not sped in vain. And that one arrow found its goal, red with revenge, in Gesler's soul, when Lucerne's lake heard him his felon soul out-moan; and Freedom's call abroad was blown, and Switzerland, a giant grown, her fetters brake. From hill to hill the summons flew, from lake to lake that tempest grew with wakening swell; till balked Oppression crouched in shame, and Austrian haughtiness grew tame, and Freedom's watchword was the name of-William Tell.

THE DIVER

BY SCHILLER

"Oh, where is the knight or the squire so bold

As to dive to the howling charybdis below?
I cast in the whirlpool a goblet of gold,
And o'er it already the dark waters flow;

Whoever to me may the goblet bring

Shall have for his guerdon that gift of his king."

And the knights and the squires that gathered around

Stood silent, and fixed on the ocean their eyes:

They looked on the dismal and savage profound,

And the peril chilled back every thought of the prize.
And thrice spoke the monarch, "The cup to win,

Is there never a wight who will venture in?”

And all, as before, heard in silence the king,
Till a youth with an aspect unfearing but gentle,
'Mid the tremulous squires, stepped out from the ring,
Unbuckling his girdle, and doffing his mantle;
And the murmuring crowd, as they parted asunder,
On the stately boy cast their looks of wonder,
As he strode to the marge of the summit, and gave
One glance on the gulf of that merciless main,
And o'er him the breakers mysteriously rolled,
And the giant-mouth closed on the swimmer so bold.

And lo! from the heart of that far-floating gloom.
What gleams on the darkness so swanlike and white?
Lo! an arm and a neck, glancing up from the tomb!-
They battle-the Man's with the Element's might.
It is he! it is he! in his left hand behold,

As a sign, as a joy, shines the goblet of gold!

And he comes with the crowd in their clamor and glee; And the goblet his daring has won from the water

He lifts to the king as he sinks on his knee;

And the king from her maidens has beckoned his daughter
And he bade her the wine to his cup-bearer bring,
And thus spake the diver, "Long life to the king!

"Happy they whom the rose-hues of daylight rejoice, The air and the sky that to mortals are given! May the horror below nevermore find a voice,

Nor man stretch too far the wide mercy of Heaven,
Nevermore, nevermore, may he lift from the mirror,
The veil which is woven with night and with terror!

"Quick brightening like lightning, it tore me along,
Down, down, till the gush of a torrent at play
In the rocks of its wilderness caught me, and strong
As the wings of an eagle, it whirled me away.

Vain, vain were my struggles, the circle had won me;
Round and round, in its dance, the wild element spun me.

"And I called on my God, and my God heard my prayer, In the strength of my need, in the gasp of my breath, And showed me a crag that rose up from the lair, And I clung to it, trembling, and baffled the death. And, safe in the perils around me, behold,

On the spikes of the coral, the goblet of gold!

"Methought, as I gazed through the darkness, that now A hundred-limbed creature caught sight of its prey, And darted-O God! from the far flaming bough

Of the coral, I swept on the horrible way;

And it seized me-the wave with its wrath and its roar

It seized me to save-King, the danger is o'er!"

On the youth gazed the monarch, and marveled; quoth he, "Bold diver, the goblet I promised is thine;

And this ring will I give, a fresh guerdon to thee,
Never jewels more precious shone up from the mine,
If thou'lt bring me fresh tidings, and venture again.
To say what lies hid in the innermost main!”

Then out spake the daughter in tender emotion, "Ah! father, my father, what more can there rest? Enough of this sport with the pitiless ocean;

He has served thee as none would, thyself hath confest. If nothing can slake thy wild thirst of desire,

Be your knights not, at least, put to shame by the squire!"

The king seized the goblet: he swung it on high,
And, whirling, it fell in the roar of the tide;
"But bring back that goblet again to my eye,
And I'll hold thee the dearest that rides by my side;
And thine arms shall embrace as thy bride, I decree,
The maiden whose pity now pleadeth for thee."

In his heart, as he listened, there leapt the wild joy, And the hope and the love through his eyes spoke in fire. On that bloom, on that blush, gazed delighted the boy; The maiden she faints at the feet of her sire.

Here the guerdon divine, there the danger beneath;
He resolves!-To the strife with the life and the death!

They hear the loud surges sweep back in their swell:
Their coming the thunder-sound heralds along!
Fond eyes yet are tracking the spot where he fell,
They come, the wild waters, in tumult and throng,
Rearing up to the cliff, roaring back as before;
But no wave ever brought the lost youth to the shore.

SCENE FROM "THE RIVALS"

BY SHERIDAN

MRS. MALAPROP and SIR ANTHONY ABSOLUTE.

Mrs. M. There, Sir Anthony, there sits the deliberate simpleton, who wants to disgrace her family, and lavish herself on a fellow not worth a shilling.

Lydia. Madam, I thought you once

Mrs. M. You thought, miss! I don't know any business you have to think at all: thought does not become a young woman. But the point we would request of you is, that you will promise to forget this fellow-to illiterate him, I say, from your memory.

Lydia. Ah, madam, our memories are independent of our wills. It is not so easy to forget.

Mrs. M. But I say it is, miss! there is nothing on earth so easy as to forget, if a person chooses to set about it. I'm sure I've as much forgot your poor dear uncle, as if he had. never existed: and I thought it my duty so to do; and let me tell you, Lydia, these violent memories don't become a young woman.

Sir A. Why, sure, she won't pretend to remember what she's ordered not? ay, this comes of her reading.

Lydia. What crime, madam, have I committed, to be treated thus?

Mrs. M. Now don't attempt to extirpate yourself from the matter; you know I have proof controvertible of it. But, tell me, will you promise to do as you're bid? Will you take a husband of your friends' choosing?