No valley so remote but I explored it;
Nay, even at the glacier's ice-clad base,
I sought and found the homes of living men;
And still, where'er my wandering footsteps turned,
The self-same hatred of these tyrants met me.
For even there, at vegetation's verge,
Where the numbed earth is barren of all fruits,
There grasping hands had been stretched forth for plunder.
Into the hearts of all this honest race,
The story of my wrongs struck deep, and now
They to a man are ours; both heart and hand.
Great things, indeed, you've wrought in little time.

MELCHTHAL.
I did still more than this. The fortresses,
Rossberg and Sarnen, are the country's dread;
For from behind their rocky walls the foe
Swoops, as the eagle from his eyrie, down,
And, safe himself, spreads havoc o'er the land.
With my own eyes I wished to weigh its strength,
So went to Sarnen, and explored the castle.

STAUFFACHER.
How! Risk thyself even in the tiger's den?

MELCHTHAL.
Disguised in pilgrim's weeds I entered it;
I saw the viceroy feasting at his board--
Judge if I'm master of myself or no!
I saw the tyrant, and I slew him not!