Manf. I then have call'd ye from your realms in vain; Ye cannot, or ye will not, aid me. What we possess we offer; it is thine: Manf. Accursed! what have I to do with days? They are too long already. Hence – begone! Spirit. Yet pause: being here, our will would do thee service; Bethink thee, is there then no other gift Which we can make not worthless in thine eyes? Manf. No, none: yet stay-one moment, ere we part I would behold ye face to face. I hear Of which we are the mind and principle: Hideous or beautiful to me. Let him, Who is most powerful of ye, take such aspect As unto him may seem most fitting-Come! Seventh Spirit. (Appearing in the shape of a beautiful female figure.) Behold! Manf. Oh God! if it be thus, and thou Art not a madness and a mockery, I yet might be most happy. I will clasp thee, And we again will be [The figure vanishes. My heart is crush'd! [Manfred falls senseless. (A voice is heard in the Incantation which follows.) When the moon is on the wave, Though thy slumber may be deep, The future,till the past be gulf'd in darkness, | Have baffled me; my gains to-day will scarce A height which none even of our mount- Save our best hunters, may attain: his garb I will approach him nearer. Manf. (Not perceiving the other.) To be thus Gray-hair'd with anguish, like these blasted pines, Wrecks of a single winter, bark less, branchless, Why are ye beautiful? I cannot love ye. should be Thy prey, and gorge thine eaglets; thou art gone Where the eye cannot follow thee; but thine Half dust, half deity, alike unfit To sink or soar, with our mix'd essence make And men are—what they name not to them- And trust not to each other. Hark! the note, The natural music of the mountain-reed- My soul would drink those echoes.— Oh, The viewless spirit of a lovely sound, Enter from below a Chamois Hunter. This way the chamois leapt: her nimble feet A blighted trunk upon a cursed root, And hours-all tortured into ages-hours C. Hunt. The mists begin to rise from up I'll warn him to descend, or he may chance Rise curling fast beneath me, white and Like foam from the roused ocean of deep Whose every wave breaks on a living shore, C. Hunt. I must approach him cautiously ; A sudden step will startle him, and he Manf. Mountains have fallen, shock Rocking their Alpine brethren; filling up Damming the rivers with a sudden dash, C. Hunt. Friend! have a care, halls, Manf. (Not hearing him.) Such would | My way of life leads me but rarely down have been for me a fitting tomb; To bask by the huge hearths of those old My bones had then been quiet in their depth; They had not then been strewn upon the rocks For the wind's pastime-as thus-thus they shall be In this one plunge.-Farewell, ye opening heavens! Look not upon me thus reproachfully— Ye were not meant for me-Earth! take these atoms! (AS MANFRED is in act to spring from the cliff, the CHAMOIS HUNTER Scizes and retains him with a sudden grasp.) C. Hunt. Hold, madman!—though aweary of thy life, Stain not our pure vales with thy guilty blood. Away with me-I will not quit my hold. Manf. I am most sick at heart-nay, grasp me not I am all feebleness-the mountains whirl Spinning around mee-I grow blind.-What art thou? C. Hunt. I'll answer that anon.-Away with me The clouds grow thicker-there-now lean A moment to that shrub-now give me your hand, Carousing with the vassals; but the paths, Which step from out our mountains to their doors, I know from childhood—which of these is thine? Let it do thus for thine-Come, pledge me fairly. Manf. Away, away! there's blood upon the brim! Will it then never-never sink in the earth? C. Hunt. What dost thou mean? thy senses wander from thee. Manf. I say 'tis blood-my blood! the pure warm stream Which ran in the veins of my fathers, and in ours When we were in our youth, and had one heart, And loved each other as we should not love, And this was shed: but still it rises up, Colouring the clouds, that shut me out from heaven, And hold fast by my girdle-softly-well-Where thou art not-and I shall never be. torrent Hath wash'd since winter.-Come, 'tis bravely done You should have been a hunter -Follow me. (As they descend the rocks with difficulty, the scene closes.) ACT II. Which makes thee people vacancy, whate'er Thy dread and sufferance be, there's comfort yet The aid of holy men, and heavenly patience – Manf. Patience, and patience! Hencethat word was made For brutes of burthen, not for birds of prey; Preach it to mortals of a dust like thine,I am not of thine order. C. Hunt. Thanks to Heaven! SCENE I-A Cottage amongst the Bernese I would not be of thine for the free fame Alps. MANFRED and the CHAMOIS HUNTER. C. Hunt. No, no-yet pause-thou must not yet go forth: Thy mind and body are alike unfit Manf. It imports not: I do know My route full well, and need no further guidance. C. Hunt. Thy garb and gait bespeak thee of high lineage One of the many chiefs, whose castled crags Look o'er the lower valleys—which of these May call thee Lord? I only know their portals; Manf. Think'st thou existence doth de- | SCENE II.-A lower Valley in the Alps. pend on time? Would be but a distemper'd dream. That thou dost see, or think thou look'st upon? Manf. Myself and thee-a peasant of the Alps Thy humble virtues, hospitable home, Thy days of health, and nights of sleep; thy toils, By danger dignified, yet guiltless; hopes Manf. No, friend! I would not wrong thee, nor exchange My lot with living being: I can bearHowever wretchedly, 'tis still to bearIn life what others could not brook to dream, But perish in their slumber. A Cataract. Enter MANFRED. It is not noon-the sunbow's rays still arch the palm of his hand, and flings it in Manf. Beautiful Spirit! with thy hair of light, And dazzling eyes of glory, in whose form The charms of Earth's least-mortal daughters grow To an unearthly stature, in an essence Upon the lofty glacier's virgin snow, Tinge thy celestial aspect, and make tame The beauties of the sunbow which bends o'er thee. Beautiful Spirit! in thy calm clear brow, Witch. Son of Earth! I know thee and the powers which give thee power; I know thee, for a man of many thoughts, And deeds of good and ill, extreme in both, Fatal and fated in thy sufferings. I have expected this-what wouldst thou with me? Manf. To look upon thy beauty—nothing further. The face of the earth hath madden'd me, and I Take refuge in her mysteries, and pierce To the abodes of those who govern herthey can nothing aid me. I have sought No words-it is thy due.-Follow me not-But And once again, I charge thee, follow not! From them what they could not bestow, and now I search no further. Made me a stranger; though I wore the form, I had no sympathy with breathing flesh, Nor midst the creatures of clay that girded me Was there but one who--but of her anon. I said, with men, and with the thoughts of men, The thirst of knowledge, and the power and joy Of this most bright intelligence, until Manf. Oh! I but thus prolong'd my words, Witch. Spare not thyself-proceed. Manf. She was like me in lineaments— her eyes, Her hair, her features, all, to the very tone Even of her voice, they said were like to mine; But soften'd all, and temper'd into beauty; She had the same lone thoughts and wanderings, The quest of hidden knowledge, and a mind To comprehend the Universe: nor these Alone, but with them gentler powers than mine, I held but slight communion; but instead, wing Flit o'er the herbless granite; or to plunge wave Of river-stream, or ocean, in their flow. moon, The stars and their development; or catch The dazzling lightnings till my eyes grew dim; Or to look, list'ning, on the scattered leaves, While Autumn-winds were at their eveningsong. These were my pastimes, and to be alone; Conclusions most forbidden. Then I pass'd Eros and Anteros, at Gadara, As I do thee;-and with my knowledge grew Her faults were mine-her virtues were her own I loved her, and destroy'd her! Manf. Not with my hand, but heartwhich broke her heart It gazed on mine, and wither'd. I have shed Blood, but not hers-and yet her blood was shed 1 saw-and could not staunch it. Witch. And for this A being of the race thou dost despise, The order which thine own would rise above, Mingling with us and ours, thou dost forego The gifts of our great knowledge, and shrink'st back To recreant mortality-Away! Manf. Daughter of Air! I tell thee, since that hour But words are breath-look on me in my sleep, Or watch my watchings—Come and sit by me! My solitude is solitude no more, But peopled with the Furies; I have gnash'd For madness as a blessing-'tis denied me. Of an all-pitiless demon held me back, Back by a single hair, which would not break. |