Classic Poem

Tell's Platte.

Here is the rock-formed slab, where Tell leapt out from the vessel;
Lo! an eternal sign here of the hero is seen.
Not yon chapel I mean, where yearly they sing for him masses,
No! 'tis the hero's self. See'st thou how noble he stands!
Now with the one firm foot on the soil — thence sacred — he treadeth,
Whilst with the other away thrusts he the tottering ship.
'Tis not of stone, this figure — nor brass, nor the labour of craftsmen,
Yet to the free man's mind riseth it, vivid and clear.
Yea, and the wilder the storm, the louder the roar of the breakers,
Then doth the hero's form grander than ever appear.