If you have power to weep, oh let my fate
Move your compassion—­it is horrible! 
I am—­say, rather was—­a prince.  I might
Have been most happy, had I only curb’d
The impatience of my passionate desires: 
But envy gnaw’d my heart—­I saw the youth
Of mine own cousin Leopold endow’d
With honor, and enrich’d with broad domains,
The while myself, of equal age with him,
In abject slavish nonage was kept back.

TELL.

Unhappy man, your uncle knew you well,
When from you land and subjects he withheld! 
You, by your mad and desperate act have set
A fearful seal upon his wise resolve. 
Where are the bloody partners of your crime?

JOHN.

Where’er the avenging furies may have borne them;
I have not seen them since the luckless deed.

TELL.

Know you the Empire’s ban is out—­that you
Are interdicted to your friends, and given
An outlaw’d victim to your enemies!

JOHN.

Therefore I shun all public thoroughfares,
And venture not to knock at any door—­
I turn my footsteps to the wilds, and through
The mountains roam, a terror to myself. 
From mine own self I shrink with horror back,
If in a brook I see my ill-starr’d form. 
If you have pity or a human heart—­

[Falls down before him.]

TELL.

Stand up, stand up!  I say.

JOHN.

Not till you give
Your hand in promise of assistance to me.

TELL.

Can I assist you?  Can a sinful man? 
Yet get ye up—­how black soe’er your crime—­
You are a man.  I, too, am one.  From Tell
Shall no one part uncomforted.  I will
Do all that lies within my power.

DUKE JOHN (springs up and grasps him ardently by the hand).

Oh, Tell,
You save me from the terrors of despair.

TELL.

Let go my hand!  You must away.  You cannot
Remain here undiscover’d, and, discover’d,
You cannot count on succor.  Which way, then,
Would you be going?  Where do you hope to find
A place of rest?

DUKE JOHN.

Alas!  I know not where.

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 travelers.

TELL.

I will describe the road, so mark me well! 
You must ascend, keeping along the Reuss,
Which from the mountains dashes wildly down.

DUKE JOHN (in alarm).

What!  See the Reuss?  The witness of my deed!