own despite!

RUDENZ.
You trust me, then? Oh, Bertha, with thy love
What might I not become?

BERTHA.
Be only that
For which your own high nature destined you.
Fill the position you were born to fill;--
Stand by your people and your native land.
And battle for your sacred rights!

RUDENZ.
Alas! How can I hope to win you--to possess you,
If I take arms against the emperor?
Will not your potent kinsman interpose,
To dictate the disposal of your hand?

BERTHA.
All my estates lie in the Forest Cantons;
And I am free, when Switzerland is free.

RUDENZ.
Oh! what a prospect, Bertha, hast thou shown me!

BERTHA.
Hope not to win my hand by Austria's favor;
Fain would they lay their grasp on my estates,
To swell the vast domains which now they hold.
The selfsame lust of conquest that would rob
You of your liberty endangers mine.
Oh, friend, I'm marked for sacrifice;--to be
The guerdon of some parasite, perchance!
They'll drag me hence to the imperial court
That hateful haunt of falsehood and intrigue;
There do detested marriage bonds await me.
Love, love alone,--your love can rescue me.

RUDENZ.
And thou could'st be content, love, to live here,
In my own native land to be my own?
Oh, Bertha, all the yearnings of my soul
For this great world and its tumultuous strife,
What were they, but a yearning after thee?
In glory's path I sought for thee alone
And all my thirst of fame was only love.
But if in this calm vale thou canst abide
With me, and bid earth's pomps and pride adieu,
Then is the goal of my ambition won;
And the rough tide of the tempestuous world
May dash and rave around these firm-set hills!
No wandering wishes more have I to send
Forth to the busy scene that stirs beyond.
Then may these rocks that girdle us extend
Their giants walls impenetrably round,
And this sequestered happy vale alone
Look up to heaven, and be my paradise!

BERTHA.
Now art thou all my fancy dreamed of thee.
My trust has not been given to thee in vain.

RUDENZ.
Away, ye idle phantoms of my folly!
In mine own home I'll find my happiness.
Here where the gladsome boy to manhood grew,
Where every brook, and tree, and mountain peak,
Teems with remembrances of happy hours,
In mine own native land thou wilt be mine.
Ah, I have ever loved it well, I feel
How poor without it were all earthly joys.

BERTHA.
Where should we look for happiness on earth,
If not in this dear land of innocence?
Here, where old