Ivy usurps the laurel's place of growth ;— While Cæsar's chambers, and the Augustan halls, And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, upon The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule 'Twas such a night! 'Tis strange that I recall it at this time; But I have found our thoughts take wildest flight Abbot. Enter the ABBOT. My good lord, I crave a second grace for this approach; May light upon your head-could I say heart- But is not yet all lost. Man. Thou know'st me not: My days are number'd, and my deeds recorded: Abbot. Thou dost not mean to menace me? Not I; 50 330 60 And stedfastly;-now tell me what thou seest. Abbot. That which should shake me-but I fear it not I see a dusk and awful figure rise, Like an infernal god, from out the earth; His face wrapt in a mantle, and his form Robed as with angry clouds: he stands between Thyself and me-but I do fear him not. Man. Thou hast no cause-he shall not harm thee-but His sight may shock thine old limbs into palsy. say to thee-Retire ! I Abbot. And I reply Never till I have battled with this fiend ;- Man. Why-ay-what doth he here?— I did not send for him,--he is unbidden. Abbot. Alas, lost mortal! what with guests like these Hast thou to do? I tremble for thy sake; Why doth he gaze on thee, and thou on him? Ah! he unveils his aspect; on his brow The thunder stars are graven; from his eye Avaunt! Man. Pronounce-what is thy mission? Come! 70 Abbot. What art thou, unknown being? answer!— speak! Spirit. The genius of this mortal.-Come! 'tis time. The power which summons me. Who sent thee here? 80 Man. I have commanded Get thee hence! Things of an essence greater far than thine, Spirit. Mortal! thine hour is come-away! I say. Away! I'll die as I have lived-alone. 90 Spirit. Then I must summon up my brethren-Rise! [Other Spirits rise up. Abbot. Avaunt, ye evil ones!-Avaunt! I say : Ye have no power where piety hath power, And I do charge ye in the name Spirit. Old man! We know ourselves, our mission, and thine order: It were in vain: this man is forfeited. Man I do defy ye,-though I feel my soul Spirit. Reluctant mortal! Is this the Magian who would so pervade Man. life 100 Thou false fiend, thou liest! My life is in its last hour, that I know, Nor would redeem a moment of that hour; I do not combat against death, but thee And thy surrounding angels; my past power Was purchased by no compact with thy crew, But by superior science-penance-daring— And length of watching-strength of mind-and skill In knowledge of our fathers—when the earth Spurn back, and scorn ye! Spirit. Have made thee Man. But thy many crimes What are they to such as thee? Must crimes be punish'd but by other crimes, And its own place and time-its innate sense, Born from the knowledge of its own desert. 120 130 Thou didst not tempt me, and thou couldst not tempt me; But was my own destroyer, and will be 140 [The Demons disappear. Abbot. Alas! how pale thou art-thy lips are whiteAnd thy breast heaves-and in thy gasping throat The accents rattle-Give thy prayers to HeavenPray-albeit in thought-but die not thus. Man. Tis over--my dull eyes can fix thee not; But all things swim around me, and the earth Heaves as it were beneath me. Fare thee wellGive me thy hand. Abbot. Cold-cold-even to the heart |