WALTER (sings).
With his cross-bow and his quiver
The huntsman speeds his way,
Over mountain, dale, and river
At the dawning of the day.
As the eagle, on wild pinion,
Is the king in realms of air;
So the hunter claims dominion
Over crag and forest lair.
Far as ever bow can carry
Through the trackless, airy space,
All he sees he makes his quarry,
Soaring bird and beast of chase.
WILHELM (runs forward).
My string has snapped! Wilt mend it for me, father?
TELL.
Not I; a true-born archer helps himself.
[Boys retire.
HEDWIG.
The boys begin to use the bow betimes.
TELL.
'Tis early practice only makes the master.
HEDWIG.
Ah! Would to heaven they never learnt the art!