Friedrich Schiller 
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.’