RUDENZ.
When we have set the country free, we'll place
Our fresh victorious wreaths upon his bier.
Oh, my dear friends, 'tis not your cause alone!—
with the tyrants have a cause to fight,
That more concerns myself. My Bertha's gone,
Has disappear'd—been carried off by stealth—
Stolen from amongst us by their ruffian hands!
STAUFF.
So fell an outrage has the tyrant dared
Against a lady free and nobly born?
RUDENZ.
Alas! my friends, I promised help to you,
And I must first implore it for myself!
She that I love, is stolen—is forced away,
And who knows where she's by the tyrant hid,
Or with what outrages his ruffian crew
May force her into nuptials she detests?
Forsake me not!—Oh, help me to her rescue!
She loves you! Well, oh well, has she deserved,
That all should rush to arms in her behalf!
STAUFF.
What course do you propose?
RUDENZ.
Alas! I know not.
In the dark mystery that shrouds her fate—
In the dread agony of this suspense,
Where I can grasp at naught of certainty—
One single ray of comfort beams upon me.
From out the ruins of the tyrant's power
Alone can she be rescued from the grave.
Their strongholds must be levell'd, every one,
Ere we can penetrate her dungeon walls.