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 melodyFlowing and soft,And sweet, as when angelsAre 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."