HERDSMAN (_on the mountains_) _Air--Variation of the Ranz des Vaches_
Farewell, ye green meadows, Farewell, sunny shore, The herdsman must leave you, The summer is o'er. We go to the hills, but you'll see us again, When the cuckoo calls, and the merry birds sing, When the flowers bloom afresh in glade and in glen, And the brooks sparkle bright in the sunshine of Spring. Farewell, ye green meadows, Farewell, sunny shore, The herdsman must leave you, The summer is o'er.
CHAMOIS HUNTER (_appearing on the top of a cliff_) _Second Variation of the Ranz des Vaches_
On the heights peals the thunder, and trembles the bridge, The huntsman bounds on by the dizzying ridge. Undaunted he hies him O'er ice-covered wild, Where leaf never budded, Nor Spring ever smiled; And beneath him an ocean of mist, where his eye No longer the dwellings of man can espy; Through the parting clouds only The earth can be seen; Far down 'neath the vapor The meadows of green.
[_A change comes over the landscape. A rumbling, cracking noise is heard among the mountains. Shadows of clouds sweep across the scene_.]
[RUODI, _the fisherman, comes out of his cottage_. WERNI, _the huntsman, descends from the rocks_. KUONI, _the shepherd, enters, with a milkpail on his shoulders, followed by_ SEPPI, _his assistant_.]
Come, Jenni, bustle, get the boat on shore. The grizzly Vale-King[37] comes, the Glaciers moan, The Mytenstein[38] is drawing on his hood, And from the Stormcleft chilly blows the wind; The storm will burst, before we know what's what.
'Twill rain ere long; my sheep browse eagerly, And Watcher there is scraping up the earth.
The fish are leaping, and the water-hen Keeps diving up and down. A storm is brewing.
Look, Seppi, if the beasts be all in sight.
There goes brown Liesel, I can hear her bells.
Then all are safe; she ever ranges farthest.
You've a fine chime of bells there, master herdsman.
And likely cattle, too. Are they your own?
I'm not so rich. They are the noble lord's Of Attinghaus, and told off to my care.
How gracefully yon heifer bears her ribbon!
Ay, well she knows she's leader of the herd, And, take it from her, she'd refuse to feed.
You're joking now. A beast devoid of reason--
Easily said. But beasts have reason, too-- And that we know, we chamois-hunters, well. They never turn to feed--sagacious creatures! Till they have placed a sentinel ahead, Who pricks his ears whenever we approach, And gives alarm with clear and piercing pipe.