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."