WILLIAM TELL AMONG THE MOUNTAINS

Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again!

I hold to you the hands you first beheld,

To show they still are free. Methinks I hear
A spirit in your echoes answer me,

And bid your tenant welcome home again!

Hail! Hail! O sacred forms, how proud you look!
How high you lift your heads into the sky!

How huge you are! how mighty, and how free!

Ye are the things that tower, that shine,—whose smile Makes glad, whose frown is terrible, whose forms, Robed or unrobed do all the impress wear

Of awe divine.

Ye guards of liberty,

I'm with you once again! I call to you
With all my voice! I hold my hands to you
To show they still are free. I rush to you
As though I could embrace you!

Scaling yonder peak,
I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow:
O'er the abyss his broad expanded wings
Lay calm and motionless upon the air,
As if he floated there without their aid,
By the sole act of his unlorded will,
That buoyed him proudly up!

Instinctively

I strung my bow; yet kept he rounding still
His airy circle, as in the delight

Of measuring the ample range beneath

And round about; absorbed, he heeded not

The death that threatened him. I could not shoot!

'Twas liberty! I turned the shaft aside,

And let him soar away!

SUGGESTIVE EXERCISES

1. Why does Tell address the crags and peaks in line 1? 2. Explain line 2.

3. Why a tenant?

4. In what sense are we to understand "proud," line 6?

5. What characteristics does he admire in the mountains?

6. What would be the smile of a mountain?

7. Its frown?

8. How could it be robed?

9. What is "awe divine"?

10. How are those mountains the guards of liberty?

11. Why does he picture the eagle as he does in the fourth stanza?

12. Why was stringing the bow instinctive?

13. What does "airy circle" mean?

14. Why could he not shoot?

15. What are we taught to admire in this poem?

REFERENCES

BYRON: The Isles of Greece. Apostrophe to the Ocean.

HALLECK: Marco Bozzaris.

BRYANT: William Tell.

GOLDSMITH: The Deserted Village.
MONTGOMERY: Arnold von Winkleried.
LONGFELLOW: Excelsior.

ARNOLD: Self-Dependence.

What a noble gift to man are the forests! What a debt of gratitude and admiration we owe to their beauty and their utility! How pleasantly the shadows of the wood fall upon our heads when we turn from the glitter and turmoil of the world of man!-James Fenimore Cooper.

WOODMAN! SPARE THAT TREE!

GEORGE P. MORRIS

MR. MORRIS, in a letter to a friend, dated New

York, February 1, 1837, gave in substance this account: Riding out of town a few days since in company with a friend, an old gentleman, he invited me to turn down a little romantic pass, not far from Bloomingdale. "Your object?" inquired I. "Merely to look once more at an old tree planted by my grandfather long before I was born, under which I used to play when I was a boy, and where my sisters played with me. There I often listened to the good advice of my parents. Father, mother, sisters-all are gone; nothing but the old tree remains." And a paleness overspread his fine countenance, and tears came to his eyes. After a moment's pause, he added: "Don't think me foolish. I don't know how it is; I never go out but I turn down this lane to look at that old tree. I have a thousand recollections about it, and I always greet it as a familiar and well-remembered friend." These words were scarcely uttered when the old gentleman cried out, "There it is!" Near the tree stood a man with his coat off, sharpening an ax. "You're not going to cut that tree down, surely?" "Yes, but I am, though," said the woodman. "What for?" inquired the old gentleman, with choked emotion. "What for? I like that! Well, I will tell you. I want the tree for firewood." "What is the tree worth to you for firewood?" "Why, when

down, about ten dollars." "Suppose I should give you that sum," said the old gentleman, "would you let it stand?" "Yes." "You are sure of that?" "Positive." "Then give me a bond to that effect." We went into the little cottage in which my companion was born,

but which is now occupied by the woodman. I drew up the bond. It was signed, and the money paid over. As we left, the young girl, the daughter of the woodman, assured us that while she lived the tree should not be cut. These circumstances made a strong impression on my mind, and furnished me with the materials for the song I send you.

The very title to this poem is a significant warning in this day of national effort to preserve our forests.

The bleak, barren hills of New England, worn to the rock by floods since the dense forests were cleared away, stand as mute witnesses to man's short-sighted devastations. Throughout practically all the states, Nebraska's "Arbor Day," or tree-planting day, is observed, and the National Department of Forestry is planting millions of trees annually to repair the damage done by the wholesale destruction of our forests. This spirit of tree preservation is made personal in this poem. Each of us feels that he is the speaker in the poem, ready to defend some loved tree against the woodman's blow. Every one who has learned to love the trees, the growing grain, or the flowers feels that these living things must not be destroyed.

Miss Mary E. Burt, lover of children and of nature, says of the poem, "I have loved it all my life, and I never knew any one who could or would offer a criticism upon it." Childhood's sweetest pleasures and dearest associations cluster around some loved spot where trees, ferns, mosses, flowers, or other living things have taught innocent childhood the open secrets of life. What wonder, then, that the child grown old raises his voice in protest against the destruction of any of these dear living things!

WOODMAN! SPARE THAT TREE!

Woodman, spare that tree!
Touch not a single bough!

In youth it sheltered me,
And I'll protect it now.