Walter Furst Monologue from Wilhelm Tell

From Wilhelm Tell by Friedrich Schiller

male · anguished · 1:05 min

It had been madness to attempt his rescue, Unarmed, and few in numbers as we were. HEDWIG (casting herself upon his bosom). Oh, father, and thou, too, hast lost my Tell! The country--all have lost him! All lament His loss; and, oh, how he must pine for us! Heaven keep his soul from sinking to despair! No friend's consoling voice can penetrate His dreary dungeon walls. Should befall sick! Ah! In the vapors of the murky vault He must fall sick. Even as the Alpine rose Grows pale and withers in the swampy air, There is no life for him, but in the sun, And in the balm of heaven's refreshing breeze. Imprisoned? Liberty to him is breath; He cannot live in the rank dungeon air!

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