Wilhelm Tell

The clear, smiling lake wooed to bathe in its deep,

A boy on its green shore had laid him to sleep;

Then heard he a melody

Flowing and soft,

And sweet, as when angels

Are singing aloft.

And as thrilling with pleasure he wakes from his rest,

The waters are murmuring over his breast;

And a voice from the deep cries,

"With me thou must go,

I charm the young shepherd,

I lure him below."