His ill-will cannot greatly injure me.
I do what's right, and care for no man's hate.
HEDWIG.
'Tis those who do what's right, whom most he hates.
TELL.
Because he cannot reach them. Me, I ween,
His knightship will be glad to leave in peace.
HEDWIG.
Ay!—Are you sure of that?
TELL.
Not long ago,
As I was hunting through the wild ravines
Of Shechenthal, untrod by mortal foot—
There, as I took my solitary way
Along a shelving ledge of rocks, where 'twas
Impossible to step on either side;
For high above rose, like a giant wall,
The precipice's side, and far below
The Shechen thunder'd o'er its rifted bed;—
[The boys press toward him, looking upon him with excited curiosity.]