ill ne'er be rent,
And all his armies shall not make us quail.

[_Enter_ ROeSSELMANN _and_ STAUFFACHER.]

ROeSSELMANN (_speaking as he enters_).

These are the awful judgments of the Lord!

PEASANT.

What is the matter?

ROeSSELMANN.

In what times we live!

FUeRST.

Say on, what is't? Ha, Werner, is it you?
What tidings?

PEASANT.

What's the matter?

ROeSSELMANN.

Hear and wonder!

STAUFF.

We are released from one great cause of dread.

ROeSSEL.

The Emperor is murdered.

FUeRST.

Gracious Heaven!

[PEASANTS _rise up and throng round_ STAUFFACHER.]

ALL.

Murder'd!--the Emp'ror? What! The Emp'ror! Hear!

MELCH.

Impossible! How came you by the news?

STAUFF.

'Tis true! Near Bruck, by the assassin's hand,
King Albert fell. A most trustworthy man,
John Mueller, from Schaffhausen, brought the news.

FUeRST.

Who dared commit so horrible a deed?

STAUFF.

The doer makes the deed more dreadful still;
It was his nephew, his own brother's son,
Duke John of Austria, who struck the blow.

MELCH.

What drove him to so dire a parricide?

STAUFF.

The Emp'ror kept his patrimony back,
Despite his urgent importunities;
'Twas said, he meant to keep it for himself,
And with a mitre to appease the duke.
However this may be, the duke gave ear
To the ill counsel of his friends in arms;
And with the noble lords, Von Eschenbach,
Von Tegerfeld, Von Wart and Palm, resolved,
Since his demands for justice were despised,
With his own hands to take revenge at least.

FUeRST.

But say--the dreadful deed, how was it done?

STAUFF.

The king was riding down from Stein to Baden.
Upon his way to join the court at Rheinfeld--
With him a train of high-born gentlemen,
And the young Princes John and Leopold;
And when they'd reach'd the ferry of the Reuss,
The assassins forced their way into the boat,
To separate the Emperor from his suite.
His highness landed, and was riding on
Across a fresh plough'd field--where once, they say,
A mighty city stood in Pagan times--
With Habsburg's ancient turrets full in sight,
That was the cradle of his princely race.
When Duke John plunged a dagger in his throat,
Palm ran him thro' the body with his lance,
And Eschenbach, to end him, clove his skull;
So down he sank, all weltering in his blood,
On his own soil, by his own kinsmen slain.
Those on the opposite bank beheld the deed,
But, parted by the stream, could only raise
An unavailing cry of