TELL.
Hear, then, what Heaven unto my heart suggests.
You must to Italy,—to Saint Peter's City—
There cast yourself at the Pope's feet,—confess
Your guilt to him, and ease your laden soul!
JOHN.
Will he not to the avengers yield me up?
TELL.
Whate'er he does, accept it as from God.
JOHN.
But how am I to reach that unknown land?
I have no knowledge of the way, and dare not
Attach myself to other travellers.
TELL.
I will describe the road, so mark me well!
You must ascend, keeping along the Reuss,
Which from the mountains dashes wildly down.
JOHN (in alarm).
What! See the Reuss? The witness of my deed!
TELL. The road you take lies through the river's gorge,
And many a cross proclaims where travellers
Have been by avalanches done to death.
JOHN.
I have no fear for nature's terrors, so
I can appease the torments of my soul.
TELL.
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!