At every cross, kneel down and expiate Your crime with burning penitential tears-- And if you 'scape the perils of the pass, And are not whelm'd beneath the drifted snows, That from the frozen peaks come sweeping down, You'll reach the bridge that's drench'd with drizzling spray. Then if it give not way beneath your guilt, When you have left it safely in your rear, Before you frowns the gloomy Gate of Rocks, Where never sun did shine. Proceed through this, And you will reach a bright and gladsome vale. Yet must you hurry on with hasty steps, You must not linger in the haunts of peace. (JOHN: O, Rudolph, Rudolph, royal grandsire! Thus Thy grandson first sets foot within thy realms!) Ascending still, you gain the Gotthardt's heights, Where are the tarns, the everlasting tarns, That from the streams of Heaven itself are fed, There to the German soil you bid farewell; And thence, with swift descent, another stream Leads you to Italy, your promised land. (Ranz des Vaches sounded on Alp-horns is heard without.) But I hear voices! Hence!

Wilhelm Tell Monologue

Rehearse Wilhelm Tell's monologue