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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 Duke University Libraries 
 
 http://archive.org/details/manfreddramaticp01byro 
 
MANFRED. 
 
T. DAVISON, LOMBARD-STREET, WHITEFRIARS, LONDON. 
 
MANFRED, 
 
 DRAMATIC POEM. 
 
 BY LORD BYRON. 
 
 LONDON: 
 JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE-STREET. 
 
 1817. 
 
. ."ft, 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Manfred. 
 Chamois Hunter. 
 Abbot of St. Maurice. 
 Manuel. 
 Herman. 
 
 Witch of the Alps. 
 
 Arimanes. 
 
 Nemesis. 
 
 The Destinies. 
 
 Spirits, &c. 
 
 The Scene of the Drama is amongst the Higher Alps — 
 partly in the Castle of Manfred, and partly in the 
 Mountains. 
 
 ^Q^S^ 
 
MANFRED. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Manfred alone — Scene, a Gothic gallery — Time, 
 Midnight. 
 
 Man. The lamp must be replenish'd, but even then 
 
 It will not burn so long as I must watch : 
 
 My slumbers — if I slumber — are not sleep, 
 
 But a continuance of enduring thought, 
 
 Which then I can resist not : in my heart 
 
 There is a vigil, and these eyes but close 
 
 To look within ; and yet I live, and bear 
 
 The aspect and the form of breathing men. 
 
 But grief should be the instructor of the wise ; 
 
 Sorrow is knowledge : they who know the most 
 
 Must mourn the deepest o'er the fatal truth, 
 
 The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life. 
 
8 MANFRED. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Philosophy and science, and the springs 
 
 Of wonder, and the wisdom of the world, 
 
 I have essayed, and in my mind there is 
 
 A power to make these subject to itself — 
 
 But they avail not : I have done men good, 
 
 And I have met with good even among men — 
 
 But this avaiFd not : I have had my foes, 
 
 And none have baffled, many fallen before me — 
 
 But this avail'd not : — Good, or evil, life, 
 
 Powers, passions, all I see in other beings, 
 
 Have been to me as rain unto the sands, 
 
 Since that all-nameless hour. I have no dread, 
 
 And feel the curse to have no natural fear, 
 
 Nor fluttering throb, that beats with hopes or wishes, 
 
 Or lurking love of something on the earth. — 
 
 Now to my task.— 
 
 Mysterious Agency ! 
 Ye spirits of the unbounded Universe ! 
 Whom I have sought in darkness and in light — 
 Ye, who do compass earth about, and dwell 
 In subtler essence — ye, to whom the tops 
 Of mountains inaccessible are haunts, 
 And earth's and ocean's caves familiar things — 
 I call upon ye by the written charm 
 
SCENE I. MANFRED. 9 
 
 Which gives me power upon you Rise ! appear ! 
 
 [A pause. 
 They come not yet. — Now by the voice of him 
 Who is the first among you — by this sign, 
 Which makes you tremble — by the claims of him 
 
 Who is undying, — Rise ! appear ! Appear ! 
 
 [A pause. 
 If it be so. — Spirits of earth and air, 
 Ye shall not thus elude me : by a power, 
 Deeper than all yet urged, a tyrant-spell, 
 Which had its birth-place in a star condemn^, 
 The burning wreck of a demolish'd world, 
 A wandering hell in the eternal space ; 
 By the strong curse which is upon my soul, 
 The thought which is within me and around me, 
 I do compel ye to my will. — Appear ! 
 
 [A star is seen at the darker end of the gallery; it is 
 stationary; and a voice is heard singing.] 
 
 Fikst Spirit. 
 Mortal ! to thy bidding bow'd, 
 From my mansion in the cloud, 
 Which thfr breath of twilight builds, 
 And the summer's sun-set gilds 
 
10 MANFRED. ACT I. 
 
 With the azure and vermilion, 
 Which is mix'd for my pavilion ; 
 Though thy quest may be forbidden, 
 On a star-beam I have ridden ; 
 To thine adjuration bow'd, 
 Mortal — be thy wish avow'd ! 
 
 Voice of the Second Spirit. 
 Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains, 
 
 They crowned him long ago 
 On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, 
 
 With a diadem of snow. 
 Around his waist are forests braced, 
 
 The Avalanche in his hand ; 
 But ere it fall, that thundering ball 
 
 Must pause for my command. 
 The Glacier's cold and restless mass 
 
 Moves onward day by day ; 
 But I am he who bids it pass, 
 
 Or with its ice delay. 
 I am the spirit of the place, 
 
 Could make the mountain bow 
 And quiver to his cavern'd base — 
 
 And what with me wouldst Thou ? 
 
SCENE I. 
 
 MANFRED. 11 
 
 Voice of the Third Spirit. 
 In the blue depth of the waters, 
 
 Where the wave hath no strife, 
 Where the wind is a stranger, 
 
 And the sea-snake hath life, 
 Where the Mermaid is decking 
 
 Her green hair with shells ; 
 Like the storm on the surface 
 
 Came the sound of thy spells ; 
 O'er my calm Hall of Coral 
 
 The deep echo rolTd — 
 To the Spirit of Ocean 
 
 Thy wishes unfold ! 
 
 Fourth Spirit. 
 Where the slumbering earthquake 
 
 Lies pihWd on fire, 
 And the lakes of bitumen 
 
 Rise boilingly higher ; 
 Where the roots of the Andes 
 
 Strike deep in the earth, 
 As their summits to heaven 
 
 Shoot soaringly forth ; 
 
12 MANFRED. ACT T. 
 
 I have quitted my birth-place, 
 
 Thy bidding to bide — 
 Thy spell hath subdued me, 
 
 Thy will be my guide ! 
 
 Fifth Spirit. 
 I am the Rider of the wind, 
 
 The Stirrer of the storm ; 
 The hurricane I left behind 
 
 Is yet with lightning warm ; 
 To speed to thee, o'er shore and sea 
 
 I swept upon the blast : 
 The fleet I met sailed well, and yet 
 
 'Twill sink ere night be past. 
 
 Sixth Spirit. 
 My dwelling is the shadow of the night, 
 Why doth thy magic torture me with light ? 
 
 Seventh Spirit. 
 The star which rules thy destiny, 
 Was ruled, ere earth began, by me : 
 It was a world as fresh and fair 
 As e'er revolved round sun in air ; 
 
SCENE I. MANFRED. 13 
 
 Its course was free and regular, 
 Space bosonVd not a lovelier star. 
 The hour arrived — and it became 
 A wandering mass of shapeless flame, 
 A pathless comet, and a curse, 
 The menace of the universe ; 
 Still rolling on with innate force, 
 Without a sphere, without a course, 
 A bright deformity on high, 
 The monster of the upper sky ! 
 And thou ! beneath its influence born — 
 Thou worm ! whom I obey and scorn- 
 Forced by a power (which is not thine, 
 And lent thee but to make thee mine) 
 For this brief moment to descend, 
 Where these weak spirits round thee bend 
 And parley with a thing like thee — 
 What wouldst thou, Child of Clay ! with me ? 
 
 The Seven Spirits. 
 Earth, ocean, air, night, mountains, winds, thy star, 
 
 Are at thy beck and bidding, Child of Clay ! 
 Before thee at thy quest their spirits are — 
 
 What wouldst thou with us, son of mortals — say ? 
 
14? MANFRED. 
 
 Man. Forgetfulness- 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 First Spirit. Of what— of whom— and why ? 
 
 Man. Of that which is within me ; read it there — 
 Ye know it, and I cannot utter it. 
 
 Spirit. We can but give thee that which we possess : 
 Ask of us subjects, sovereignty, the power 
 O'er earth, the whole, or portion, or a sign 
 Which shall control the elements, whereof 
 We are the dominators, each and all, 
 These shall be thine. 
 
 Man. Oblivion, self-oblivion — 
 Can ye not wring from out the hidden realms 
 Ye offer so profusely what I ask ? 
 
 Spirit. It is not in our essence, in our skill ; 
 But — thou mayst die. 
 
 Man. Will death bestow it on me ? 
 
 Spirit. We are immortal, and do not forget ; 
 We are eternal ; and to us the past 
 Is, as the future, present. Art thou answered ? 
 
 Man. Ye mock me — but the power which brought ye 
 here 
 Hath made you mine. Slaves, scoff not at my will ! 
 The mind, the spirit, the Promethean spark, 
 The lightning of my being, is as bright, 
 
SCENE I. MANFRED. 15 
 
 Pervading, and far-darting as your own, 
 
 And shall not yield to yours, though coop'd in day ! 
 
 Answer, or I will teach ye what I am. 
 
 Spirit. We answer as we answered ; our reply 
 Is even in thine own words. 
 
 Man. Why say ye so ? 
 
 Spirit. If, as thou say'st, thine essence be as ours, 
 We have replied in telling thee, the thing 
 Mortals call death hath nought to do with us. 
 
 Man. I then have call'd ye from your realms in vain ; 
 Ye cannot, or ye will not, aid me. 
 
 Spirit. Say ; 
 What we possess we offer; it is thine: 
 Bethink ere thou dismiss us, ask again — 
 Kingdom, and sway, and strength, and length of days 
 
 Man. 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 ? 
 
 Man. No, none : yet stay — one moment, ere we part — 
 I would behold ye face to face. I hear 
 Your voices, sweet and melancholy sounds, 
 
16 MANFRED. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 As music on the waters ; and I see 
 The steady aspect of a clear large star ; 
 But nothing more. Approach me as ye are, 
 Or one, or all, in your accustom'd forms. 
 
 Spirit. We have no forms beyond the elements 
 Of which we are the mind and principle : 
 But choose a form — in that we will appear. 
 
 Man. I have no choice ; there is no form on earth 
 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 beau- 
 tiful female figure.) Behold ! 
 
 Man. 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 ! 
 
 [Mashed falls senseless. 
 
 (A voice is heard in the Incantation which follows.) 
 
 When the moon is on the wave, 
 
 And the glow-worm in the grass, 
 And the meteor on the grave, 
 
 And the wisp on the morass ; 
 
SCENE I. MANFRED. 17 
 
 When the falling stars are shooting, 
 And the answered owls are hooting, 
 And the silent leaves are still 
 In the shadow of the hill, 
 Shall my soul be upon thine, 
 With a power and with a sign. 
 
 Though thy slumber may be deep, 
 
 Yet thy spirit shall not sleep, 
 
 There are shades which will not vanish, 
 
 There are thoughts thou canst not banish ; 
 
 By a power to thee unknown, 
 
 Thou canst never be alone ; 
 
 Thou art wrapt as with a shroud, 
 
 Thou art gathered in a cloud ; 
 
 And for ever shalt thou dwell 
 
 In the spirit of this spell. 
 
 Though thou seest me not pass by, 
 Thou shalt feel me with thine eye 
 As a thing that, though unseen, 
 Must be near thee, and hath been ; 
 And when in that secret dread 
 Thou hast turn'd around thy head, 
 
18 MANFRED. ACT I. 
 
 Thou shalt marvel I am not 
 As thy shadow on the spot, 
 And the power which thou dost feel 
 Shall be what thou must conceal. 
 
 -And a magic voice and verse 
 
 Hath baptized thee with a curse ; 
 
 And a spirit of the air 
 
 Hath begirt thee with a snare ; 
 
 In the wind there is a voice 
 
 Shall forbid thee to rejoice ; 
 
 And to tfree shall Night deny ' N 
 
 All the quiet of her sky ; 
 
 And the day shall have a sun, 
 
 Which shall make thee wish it done. 
 
 From thy false tears I did distil 
 An essence which hath strength to kill ; 
 From thy own heart I then did wring 
 The black blood in its blackest spring ; 
 From thy own smile I snatch'd the snake, 
 For there it coil'd as in a brake ; 
 From thy own lip I drew the charm 
 Which gave all these their chiefest harm ; 
 
SCENE I. MANFRED. 19 
 
 In proving every poison known, 
 
 I found the strongest was thine own. 
 
 By thy cold breast and serpent smile, 
 
 By thy unfathbm'd gulfs of guile, 
 
 By that most seeming virtuous eye, 
 
 By thy shut soul's hypocrisy ; 
 
 By the perfection of thine art 
 
 Which pass'd for human thine own heart ; 
 
 By thy delight in others' pain, 
 
 And by thy brotherhood of Cain, 
 
 I call upon thee ! and compel 
 
 Thyself to be thy proper Hell ! 
 
 And on thy head I pour the vial 
 
 Which doth devote thee to this trial ; 
 
 Nor to slumber, nor to die, 
 
 Shall be in thy destiny ; 
 
 Though thy death shall still seem near 
 
 To thy wish, but as a fear ; 
 
 Lo ! the spell now works around thee, 
 
 And the clankless chain hath bound thee ; 
 
 O'er thy heart and brain together 
 
 Hath the word been pass'd — now wither ! 
 
 c2 
 
20 MANFRED. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 The Mountain of the Jungfrau. — Time y Morning'. — 
 Manfred alone upon the Cliff's. 
 
 Man. The spirits I have raised abandon me — 
 The spells which I have studied baffle me— 
 The remedy I reck'd of tortured me ; 
 I lean no more on super-human aid, 
 It hath no power upon the past, and for 
 The future, till the past be gulf 'd in darkness, 
 It is not of my search. — My mother Earth ! 
 And thou fresh breaking Day, and you, ye Mountains, 
 Why are ye beautiful ? I cannot love ye. 
 And thou, the bright eye of the universe, 
 That openest over all, and unto all 
 Art a delight — thou shin'st not on my heart. 
 And you, ye crags, upon whose extreme edge 
 I stand, and on the torrent's brink beneath 
 Behold the tall pines dwindled as to shrubs 
 In dizziness of distance ; when a leap, 
 A stir, a motion, even a breath, would bring 
 
SCENE II. 
 
 MANFRED. 21 
 
 My breast upon its rocky bosom's bed 
 
 To rest for ever — wherefore do I pause ? 
 
 I feel the impulse — yet I do not plunge ; 
 
 I see the peril — yet do not recede ; 
 
 And my brain reels — and yet my foot is firm : 
 
 There is a power upon me which withholds 
 
 And makes it my fatality to live ; 
 
 If it be life to wear within myself 
 
 This barrenness of spirit, and to be 
 
 My own soul's sepulchre, for I have ceased 
 
 To justify my deeds unto myself — 
 
 The last infirmity of evil. Ay, 
 
 Thou winged and cloud-cleaving minister, 
 
 [An eagle passes. 
 Whose happy flight is highest into heaven, 
 Well may'st thou swoop so near me — I should be 
 Thy prey, and gorge thine eaglets ; thou art gone 
 Where the eye cannot follow thee ; but thine 
 Yet pierces downward, onward, or above 
 With a pervading vision. — Beautiful ! 
 How beautiful is all this visible world ! 
 How glorious in its action and itself; 
 But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we, 
 Half dust, half deity, alike unfit 
 
22 MANFRED. A€T I. 
 
 To sink or soar, with our mix 1 d essence make 
 
 A conflict of its elements, and breathe 
 
 The breath of degradation and of pride, 
 
 Contending with low wants and lofty will 
 
 Till our mortality predominates, 
 
 And men are — -what they name not to themselves, 
 
 And trust not to each other. Hark ! the note, 
 
 [The Shepherd's pipe in the distance is heard. 
 The natural music of the mountain reed — 
 For here the patriarchal days are not 
 A pastoral fable — pipes in the liberal air, 
 Mix'd with the sweet bells of the sauntering herd ; 
 My soul would drink those echoes. — Oh, that I were 
 The viewless spirit of a lovely sound, 
 A living voice, a breathing harmony, 
 A bodiless enjoyment — born and dying 
 With the blest tone which made me ! 
 
 Enter from below a Chamois Hunter. 
 
 Chamois Hunter. Even so 
 
 This way the chamois leapt : her nimble feet 
 Have baffled me ; my gains to-day will scarce 
 Repay my break-neck travail. — What is here ? 
 Who seems not of my trade, and yet hath reach'd 
 
SCENE II. MANFRED. «< 
 
 A height which none even of our mountaineers, 
 Save our best hunters, may attain : his garb 
 Is goodly, his mien manly, and his air 
 Proud as a free-born peasant's, at this distance.— 
 I will approach him nearer. 
 
 Man. (not perceiving the other.) To be thus — 
 Grey-hair'd with anguish, like these blasted pines, 
 Wrecks of a single winter, barkless, branchless, 
 A blighted trunk upon a cursed root, 
 Which but supplies a feeling to decay — 
 And to be thus, eternally but thus, 
 Having been otherwise ! Now furrow'd o'er 
 With wrinkles, plough'd by moments, not by years ; 
 And hours — all tortured into ages — hours 
 Which I outlive ! — Ye toppling crags of ice ! 
 Ye avalanches, whom a breath draws down 
 In mountainous o'erwhelming, come and crush me 
 I hear ye momently above, beneath, 
 Crash with a frequent conflict ; but ye pass, 
 And only fall on things which still would live ; 
 On the young flourishing forest, or the hut 
 And hamlet of the harmless villager. 
 
 C. Hun. The mists begin to rise from up the valley ; 
 I'll warn him to descend, or he may chance 
 To lose at once his way and life together. 
 
24 MANFRED. ACT I 
 
 Man. The mists boil up around the glaciers ; clouds 
 Rise curling fast beneath me, white and sulphury, 
 Like foam from the roused ocean of deep Hell, 
 Whose every wave breaks on a living shore, 
 Heaped with the damn'd like pebbles. — I am giddy. 
 
 C. Hun. I must approach him cautiously; if near, 
 A sudden step will startle him, and he 
 Seems tottering already. 
 
 Man. Mountains have fallen, 
 
 Leaving a gap in the clouds, and with the shock 
 Rocking their Alpine brethren ; filling up 
 The ripe green valleys with destruction's splinters ; 
 Damming the rivers with a sudden dash, 
 Which crush'd the waters into mist, and made 
 Their fountains find another channel — thus, 
 Thus, in its old age, did Mount Rosenberg — 
 Why stood I not beneath it ? 
 
 C.Hun. Friend! have a care, 
 
 Your next step may be fatal ! — for the love 
 Of him who made you, stand not on that brink ! 
 
 Man. (not hearing him.) Such would have been for 
 me a fitting tomb ; 
 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 — 
 
SCENE II. MANFRED. 25 
 
 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 seizes and retains him 
 with a sudden grasp.) 
 C. Hun. Hold, madman ! — though aweary of thy life, 
 Stain not our pure vales with thy guilty blood. — 
 
 Away with me 1 will not quit my hold. 
 
 Man. I am most sick at heart — nay, grasp me not — 
 I am all feebleness — the mountains whirl 
 Spinning around me — I grow blind— What art thou ? 
 C. Hun. I'll answer that anon. — Away with me — 
 The clouds grow thicker — there — now lean on me— 
 Place your foot here — here, take this staff, and cling 
 A moment to that shrub — now give me your hand, 
 And hold fast by my girdle — softly — well — 
 The Chalet will be gained within an hour — 
 Come on, we'll quickly find a surer footing, 
 And something like a pathway, which the 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.) 
 
 END OF ACT THE FIRST. 
 
26 
 
 ACT IT. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 A Cottage amongst the Bernese Alps. 
 
 Manfred and the Chamois Hunter. 
 C. Hun. No, no — yet pause — thou must not yet go 
 forth : 
 Thy mind and body are alike unfit 
 To trust each other, for some hours, at least ; 
 When thou art better, I will be thy guide — 
 But whither ? 
 
 Man. It imports not : I do know 
 
 My route full well, and need no further guidance. 
 
 C. Hun. 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 ; 
 
SCENE I. MANFRED. 27 
 
 My way of life leads me but rarely down 
 To bask by the huge hearths of those old halls, 
 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 ? 
 
 Man. No matter. 
 
 C. Hun. Well, sir, pardon me the question, 
 
 And be of better cheer. Come, taste my wine ; 
 'Tis of an ancient vintage ; many a day 
 'T has thawed my veins among our glaciers, now 
 Let it do thus for thine— Come, pledge me fairly. 
 
 Man. Away, away ! there's blood upon the brim ! 
 Will it then never — never sink in the earth ? 
 
 C. Hun. What dost thou mean ? thy senses wander 
 from thee. 
 
 Man. I say 'tis blood — my blood i 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, 
 Where thou art not — and I shall never be. 
 
 C. Hun. Man of strange words, and some half-mad- 
 dening sin, 
 
28 MANFRED. 
 
 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 
 
 Man. Patience and patience ! Hence — that 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. Hun. Thanks to heaven ! 
 
 I would not be of thine for the free fame 
 Of William Tell ; but whatsoe'er thine ill, 
 It must be borne, and these wild starts are useless. 
 
 Man. Do I not bear it ? — Look on me — I live. 
 
 C. Hun. This is convulsion, and no healthful life. 
 
 Man. I tell thee, man ! I have lived many years, 
 Many long years, but they are nothing now 
 To those which I must number : ages — ages — 
 Space and eternity — and consciousness, 
 With the fierce thirst of death — and still unslaked ! 
 
 C. Hun. Why, on thy brow the seal of middle age 
 Hath scarce been set ; I am thine elder far. 
 
 Man. Think'st thou existence doth depend on time ? 
 It doth ; but actions are our epochs : mine 
 Have made my days and nights imperishable, 
 Endless, and all alike, as sands on the shore, 
 
SCENE I. MANFRED. 29 
 
 Innumerable atoms ; and one desart, 
 Barren and cold, on which the wild waves break, 
 But nothing rests, save carcases and wrecks, 
 Rocks, and the salt-surf weeds of bitterness. 
 
 C. Hun. Alas ! he's mad — but yet I must not leave 
 him. 
 
 Man. I would I were — for then the things I see 
 Would be but a distempered dream. 
 
 C. Hun. What is it 
 
 That thou dost see, or think thou look'st upon ? 
 
 Man. Myself, and thee — a peasant of the Alps — 
 Thy humble virtues, hospitable home, 
 And spirit patient, pious, proud and free ; 
 Thy self-respect, grafted on innocent thoughts ; 
 Thy days of health, and nights of sleep ; thy toils, 
 By danger dignified, yet guiltless ; hopes 
 Of cheerful old age and a quiet grave, 
 With cross and garland over its green turf, 
 And thy grandchildren's love for epitaph ; 
 This do I see — and then I look within — 
 It matters not — my soul was scorch'd already ! 
 
 C. Hun. And would'st thou then exchange thy lot for 
 mine? 
 
 Man. No, friend ! I would not wrong thee, nor ex- 
 change 
 
30 MANFRED. ACT II, 
 
 My lot with living being : I can bear — 
 However wretchedly, 'tis still to bear — 
 In life what others could not brook to dream, 
 But perish in their slumber. 
 
 C. Hun. And with this — ■ 
 
 This cautious feeling for another's pain, 
 Canst thou be black with evil ? — say not so. 
 Can one of gentle thoughts have wreak'd revenge 
 Upon his enemies ? 
 
 Man. Oh ! no, no, no ! 
 
 My injuries came down on those who loved me — 
 On those whom I best loved : I never quell'd 
 An enemy, save in my just defence — 
 But my embrace was fatal. 
 
 C. Hun. Heaven give thee rest t 
 
 And penitence restore thee to thyself; 
 My prayers shall be for thee. 
 
 Man. I need them not, 
 
 But can endure thy pity. I depart — 
 'Tis time — farewell ! — Here's gold, and thanks for thee — 
 No words — it is thy due. — Follow me not — 
 I know my path — the mountain peril's past : — 
 And once again, I charge thee, follow not ! 
 
 [Exit Manfred- 
 
SCENE II. MANFRED. SI 
 
 SCENE II. 
 A lower Valley in the Alps. — A Cataract. 
 
 Enter Manfbed. 
 
 It is not noon— the sunbow's rays ' still arch 
 
 The torrent with the many hues of heaven, 
 
 And roll the sheeted silver's waving column 
 
 O'er the crag's headlong perpendicular, 
 
 And fling its hues of foaming light along, 
 
 And to and fro, like the pale courser's tail, 
 
 The Giant steed, to be bestrode by Death, 
 
 As told in the Apocalypse. No eyes 
 
 But mine now drink this sight of loveliness ; 
 
 I should be sole in this sweet solitude, 
 
 And with the Spirit of the place divide 
 
 The homage of these waters. — I will call her. 
 
 (Manfred takes some of the water mto the palm of 
 his hand, andjlings it in the air, muttering- the 
 adjuration. After a pause, the Witch of the 
 Alps rises beneath the arch of the sunbeam of 
 the torrent.) 
 Man. Beautiful Spirit ! with thy hair of light, 
 
 And dazzling eyes of glory, in whose form 
 
32 MANFRED. ACT II. 
 
 The charms of Earth's least-mortal daughters grow 
 
 To an unearthly stature, in an essence 
 
 Of purer elements ; while the hues of youth, — 
 
 Carnation'd like a sleeping infant's cheek, 
 
 Rock'd by the beating of her mother's heart, 
 
 Or the rose tints, which, summer's twilight leaves 
 
 Upon the lofty glacier's virgin snow, 
 
 The blush of earth embracing with her heaven, — 
 
 Tinge thy celestial aspect, and make tame 
 
 The beauties of the sunbow which bends o'er thee. 
 
 Beautiful Spirit ! m thy calm clear brow, 
 
 Wherein is glass'd serenity of soul, 
 
 Which of itself shows immortality, 
 
 I read that thou wilt pardon to a Son 
 
 Of Earth, whom the abstruser powers permit 
 
 At times to commune with them — if that he 
 Avail him of his spells — to call thee thus, 
 
 And gaze on thee a moment. 
 
 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 ? 
 Man. To look upon thy beauty — nothing further. 
 
SCENE IT. - MANFRED. 33 
 
 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 her — 
 But they can nothing aid me. I have sought 
 From them what they could not bestow, and now 
 I search no further. 
 
 Witch. What could be the quest 
 Which is not in the power of the most powerful, 
 The rulers of the invisible ? 
 
 Man. A boon ; 
 
 But why should I repeat it ? 'twere in vain. 
 
 Witch. I know not that ; let thy lips utter it. 
 
 Man. Well, though it torture me, 'tis but the same ; 
 My pang shall find a voice. From my youth upwards 
 My spirit walk'd not with the souls of men, 
 Nor look'd upon the earth with human eyes ; 
 The thirst of their ambition was not mine, 
 The aim of their existence was not mine ; 
 My joys, my griefs, my passions, and my powers, 
 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, 
 
S4 MANFRED. ACT II. 
 
 I held but slight communion ; but instead, 
 
 My joy was in the Wilderness, to breathe 
 
 The difficult air of the iced mountain's top, 
 
 Where the birds dare not build, nor insect's wing 
 
 Flit o'er the herbless granite ; or to plunge 
 
 Into the torrent, and to roll along 
 
 On the swift whirl of the new breaking wave 
 
 Of river-stream, or ocean, in their flow. 
 
 In these my early strength exulted ; or • 
 
 To follow through the night the moving moon. 
 
 The stars and their developement ; or catch 
 
 The dazzling lightnings till my eyes grew dim ; 
 
 Or to look, lisfning, on the scattered leaves, 
 
 While Autumn winds were at their evening song. 
 
 These were my pastimes, and to be alone ; 
 
 For if the beings, of whom I was one,. — 
 
 Hating to be so, — cross'd me in my path, 
 
 I felt myself degraded back to them, 
 
 And was all clay again. And then I dived, 
 
 In my lone wanderings, to the caves of death, 
 
 Searching its cause in its effect ; and drew 
 
 From wither'd bones, and skulls, and heapM up dust, 
 
 Conclusions most forbidden. Then I pass'd 
 
 The nights of years in sciences untaught, 
 
SCENE II. MANFRED. 35 
 
 Save in the old-time ; and with time and toil, 
 
 And terrible ordeal, and such penance 
 
 As in itself hath power upon the air, 
 
 And spirits that do compass air and earth, 
 
 Space, and the peopled infinite, I made 
 
 Mine eyes familiar with Eternity, 
 
 Such as, before me, did the Magi, and 
 
 He who from out their fountain dwellings raised 
 
 Eros and Anteros 2 , at Gadara, 
 
 As I do thee ; — and with my knowledge grew 
 
 The thirst of knowledge, and the power and joy 
 
 Of this most bright intelligence, until — 
 
 Witch. Proceed. 
 
 Man. Oh ! I but thus prolonged my words, 
 Boasting these idle attributes, because 
 As I approach the core of my heart's grief — 
 But to my task. I have not named to thee 
 Father or mother, mistress, friend, or being, 
 With whom I wore the chain of human ties ; 
 If I had such, they seem'd not such to me — • 
 Yet there was one 
 
 Witch. Spare not thyself — proceed. 
 
 Man. She was like me in lineaments— her eyes, 
 Her hair, her features, all, to the very tone 
 
 » 2 
 
3b MANFRED. ACT II. 
 
 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, 
 
 Pity, and smiles, and tears — which I had not ; 
 
 And tenderness — but that I had for her ; 
 
 Humility — and that I never had. 
 
 Her faults were mine — her virtues were her own— 
 
 I loved her, and destroy 'd her i 
 
 Witch. With thy hand ? 
 
 Man. Not with my hand, but heart — which broke her 
 heart — 
 It gazed on mine, and withered. I have shed 
 Blood, but not hers — and yet her blood was shed — 
 I 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 ! 
 
 Man. Daughter of Air ! I tell thee, since that hour — 
 
SCENE II. MANFRED. 37 
 
 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 gnashed 
 
 My teeth in darkness till returning morn, 
 
 Then cursed myself till sunset ; — I have pray'd 
 
 For madness as a blessing — 'tis denied me. 
 
 I have affronted death — but in the war 
 
 Of elements the waters shrunk from me, 
 
 And fatal things pass'd harmless — the cold hand 
 
 Of an all-pitiless demon held me back, 
 
 Back by a single hair, which would not break. 
 
 In phantasy, imagination, all g 
 
 The affluence of my soul — which one day was 
 
 A Croesus in creation — I plunged deep, 
 
 But, like an ebbing wave, it dash'd me back 
 
 Into the gulf of my unfathom'd thought. 
 
 I plunged amidst mankind — Forgetfulness 
 
 I sought in all, save where 'tis to be found, 
 
 And that I have to learn — my sciences, 
 
 My long pursued and super-human art, 
 
 Is mortal here — I dwell in my despair — 
 
 And live — and live for ever. 
 
 Witch. It may be 
 
 That I can aid thee. 
 
38 MAN-FRED. ACT II. 
 
 Man. To do this thy power 
 
 Must wake the dead, or lay me low with them. 
 Do so — in any shape — in any hour — 
 With any torture — so it be the last. 
 
 Witch. That is not in my province ; but if thou 
 Wilt swear obedience to my will, and do 
 My bidding, it may help thee to thy .wishes. 
 
 Man. I will not swear — Obey ! and whom ? the spirits 
 Whose presence I command, and be the slave 
 Of those who served me — Never ! 
 
 Witch. Is this all ? 
 
 Hast thou no gentler answer — Yet bethink thee, 
 And pause ere thou rejectest. 
 
 Man. I have said it. 
 
 Witch. Enough ! — I may retire then — say ! 
 
 Man. Retire ! 
 
 [The Witch disappears. 
 
 Man. (alone.) We are the fools of time and terror : 
 Days 
 Steal on us and steal from us ; yet we live, 
 Loathing our life, and dreading still to die. 
 In all the days of this detested yoke — 
 This vital weight upon the struggling heart, 
 Which sinks with sorrow, or beats quick with pain, 
 Or joy that ends in agony or faintness — 
 
SCENE II. MANFRED. 39 
 
 In all the days of past and future, for 
 In life there is no present, we can number 
 How few — how less than few — wherein the soul 
 Forbears to pant for death, and yet draws back 
 As from a stream in winter, though the chill 
 Be but a moment's. I have one resource 
 Still in my science — I can call the dead, 
 And ask them what it is we dread to be : 
 The sternest answer can but be the Grave, 
 And that is nothing — if they answer not — 
 The buried Prophet answered to the Hag 
 Of Endor ; and the Spartan Monarch drew 
 From the Byzantine maid's unsleeping spirit 
 An answer and his destiny — he slew 
 That which he loved, unknowing what he slew. 
 And died unpardon'd— though he call'd in aid 
 The Phyxian Jove, and in Phigalia roused 
 The Arcadian Evocators to compel 
 The indignant shadow to depose her wrath, 
 Or fix her term of vengeance — she replied 
 In words of dubious import, but fulfilTd 3 . 
 
 If I had never lived, that which 1 love 
 Had still been living ; had I never loved, 
 
40 MANFRED. ACT II. 
 
 That which I love would still be beautiful — 
 Happy and giving happiness. What is she ? 
 What is she now ? — a sufferer for my sins — 
 A tiling I dare not think upon — or nothing. 
 Within few hours I shall not call in vain-r- 
 Yet in this hour I dread the thing I dare : 
 Until this hour I never shrunk to gaze 
 On spirit, good or evil — now I tremble, 
 And feel a strange cold thaw upon my heart, 
 But I can act even what I most abhor, 
 And champion human fears. — The night approaches. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 The Summit of the Jung from Mountain. 
 
 Enter First Destiny. 
 
 The moon is rising broad, and round, and bright ; 
 And here on snows, where never human foot 
 Of common mortal trod, we nightly tread, 
 And leave no traces ; o'er the savage sea, 
 The glassy ocean of the mountain ice, 
 
SCENE III. MANFRED. 41 
 
 We skim its rugged breakers, which put on 
 
 The aspect of a tumbling tempest's foam, 
 
 Frozen in a moment — a dead whirlpool's image ; 
 
 And this most steep fantastic pinnacle, 
 
 The fretwork of some earthquake — where the clouds 
 
 Pause to repose themselves in passing by — 
 
 Is sacred to our revels, or our vigils ; 
 
 Here do I wait my sisters, on our way 
 
 To the Hall of Arimanes, for to-night 
 
 Is our great festival — 'tis strange they come not. 
 
 A Voice without, singing. 
 
 The Captive Usurper, 
 
 Hurl'd down from the throne, 
 Lay buried in torpor, 
 
 Forgotten and lone ; 
 I broke through his slumbers, 
 
 I shivered his chain, 
 I leagued him with numbers — 
 
 He's Tyrant again ! 
 With the blood of a million he'll answer my care, 
 With a nation's destruction — his flight and despair. 
 
42 MANFRED. ACT II. 
 
 Second Voice, without. 
 The ship sail'd on, the ship sail'd fast, 
 But I left not a sail, and I left not a mast ; 
 There is not a plank of the hull or the deck, 
 And there is not a wretch to lament o'er his wreck ; 
 Save one, whom I held, as he swam, by the hair, 
 And he was a subject well worthy my care ; 
 A traitor on land, and a pirate at sea — 
 But I saved him to wreak further havoc for me ! 
 
 First Destiny, answering. 
 The city lies sleeping ; 
 
 The morn, to deplore it, 
 May dawn on it weeping : 
 
 Sullenly, slowly, 
 The black plague flew o'er it — 
 
 Thousands He lowly ; 
 Tens of thousands shall perish — 
 
 The living shall fly from 
 The sick they should cherish ; 
 
 But nothing can vanquish 
 The touch that they die from. 
 
 Sorrow and anguish, 
 
SCENE III. MANFRED. 43 
 
 And evil and dread, 
 Envelope a nation — 
 
 The blest are the dead, 
 Who see not the sight 
 
 Of their own desolation. — 
 This work of a night — 
 This wreck of a realm — this deed of my doing — 
 For ages IVe done, and shall still be renewing ! 
 
 Enter the Second and Third Destinies. 
 
 The Three. 
 Our hands contain the hearts of men, 
 
 Our footsteps are then graves ; 
 We only give to take again 
 
 The spirits of our slaves ! 
 
 First Des. Welcome ! — Where's Nemesis ? 
 Second Des. At some great work ; 
 
 But what I know not, for my hands were full. 
 Third Des. Behold she cometh. 
 
 Enter Nemesis. 
 First Des. Say, where hast thou been?r— » 
 
 My sisters and thyself are slow to-night. 
 
44 MANFRED. 
 
 ACT IT. 
 
 Nem. I was detain'd repairing shattered thrones, 
 Marrying fools, restoring dynasties, 
 Avenging men upon their enemies, 
 And making them repent their own revenge ; 
 Goading the wise to madness ; from the dull 
 Shaping out oracles to rule the world 
 Afresh, for they were waxing out of date, 
 And mortals dared to ponder for themselves, 
 To weigh kings in the balance, and to speak 
 Of freedom, the forbidden fruit.— Away ! 
 We have outstaid the hour — mount we our clouds ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 The HallqfArimanes — Arimanes on his Throne, a Globe 
 of Fire, surrounded by the Spirits. 
 
 Hymn of the Spirits. 
 Hail to our Master ! — Prince of Earth and Air ! — 
 
 Who walks the clouds and waters — in his hand 
 The sceptre of the elements, which tear 
 
 Themselves to chaos at his high command ! 
 
SCENE IV. MANFRED. 45 
 
 He breatheth — and a tempest shakes the sea ; 
 
 He speaketh — and the clouds reply in thunder ; 
 He gazeth — from his glance the sunbeams flee ; 
 
 He moveth — earthquakes rend the world asunder. 
 Beneath his footsteps the volcanos rise ; 
 
 His shadow is the Pestilence ; his path 
 The comets herald through the crackling skies ; 
 
 And planets turn to ashes at his wrath. 
 To him War offers daily sacrifice ; 
 
 To him Death pays his tribute ; Life is his., 
 With all its infinite of agonies — 
 
 And his the spirit of whatever is ! 
 
 Enter the Destinies and Nemesis. 
 
 First Des. Glory to Arimanes ! on the earth 
 His power increaseth — both my sisters did 
 His bidding, nor did I neglect my duty ! 
 
 Second Des. Glory to Arimanes ! we who bow 
 The necks of men, bow down before his throne ! 
 
 Third Des. Glory to Arimanes ! — we await 
 His nod ! 
 
 Nem. Sovereign of Sovereigns ! we are thine, 
 And all that liveth, more or less, is ours, 
 And most things wholly so ; still to increase 
 Our power increasing thine, demands our care, 
 
46 MANFRED. ACT II. 
 
 And we are vigilant — Thy late commands 
 Have been fulfilled to the utmost. 
 
 Enter Manfred. 
 
 A Spiiiit. What is here ? 
 
 A mortal ! — Thou most rash and fatal wretch, 
 Bow down and worship ! 
 
 Second Spirit. I do know the man — 
 
 A Magian of great power, and fearful skill ! 
 
 Third Spirit. Bow down and worship, slave ! — What, 
 know 1 st thou not 
 Thine and our Sovereign ? — Tremble, and obey ! 
 
 All the Spirits. Prostrate thyself, and thy con- 
 demned clay, 
 Child of the Earth ! or dread the worst. 
 
 Man. I know it ; 
 
 And yet ye see I kneel not. 
 
 Fourth Spirit. 'Twill be taught thee. 
 
 Man. 'Tis taught already; — many a night on the earth, 
 On the bare ground, have I bow'd down my face, 
 And strew'd my head with ashes ; I have known 
 The fidness of humiliation, for 
 I sunk before my vain despair, and knelt 
 To my own desolation. 
 
 Fifth Spirit. Dost thou dare 
 
SCENE IV. MANFRED. 47 
 
 Refuse to Arimanes on his throne 
 
 What the whole earth accords, beholding not 
 
 The terror of his Glory — Crouch ! I say. 
 
 Man. Bid him bow down to that which is above him, 
 The overruling Infinite — the Maker 
 Who made him not for worship— let him kneel, 
 And we will kneel together. 
 
 The Spirits. Crush the worm ! 
 
 Tear him in pieces ! — 
 
 First Des. Hence ! Avaunt ! — he's mine, 
 
 Prince of the Powers invisible ! This man 
 Is of no common order, as his port 
 And presence here denote ; his sufferings 
 Have been of an immortal nature, like 
 Our own ; his knowledge and his powers and will, 
 As far as is compatible with clay, 
 Which clogs the etherial essence, have been such 
 As clay hath seldom borne ; his aspirations 
 Have been beyond the dwellers of the earth, 
 And they have only taught him what we know — 
 That knowledge is not happiness, and science 
 But an exchange of ignorance for that 
 Which is another kind of ignorance. 
 This is not all — the passions, attributes 
 
48 MANFRED. ACT II. 
 
 Of earth and heaven, from which no power, nor being, 
 
 Nor breath from the worm upwards is exempt, 
 
 Have pierced his heart ; and in their consequence 
 
 Made him a thing, which I, who pity not, 
 
 Yet pardon those who pity. He is mine, 
 
 And thine, it may be — be it so, or not, 
 
 No other Spirit in this region hath 
 
 A soul tike his — or power upon his soul. 
 
 Nem. What doth he here then ? 
 
 First Des. Let him answer that. 
 
 Man. Ye know what I have known ; and without power 
 I could not be amongst ye : but there are 
 Powers deeper still beyond — I come in quest 
 Of such, to answer unto what I seek. 
 
 Nem. What wouldst thou ? 
 
 Man. Thou canst not reply to me. 
 
 Call up the dead — my question is for them. 
 
 Nem. Great Arimanes, doth thy will avouch 
 The wishes of this mortal ? 
 
 Ari. Yea. 
 
 Nem. Whom would'st thou 
 
 Uncharnel ? 
 
 Man. One without a tomb — call up 
 Astarte. 
 
SCENE IV. MANFRED. 49 
 
 Nemesis. 
 Shadow ! or Spirit ! 
 
 Whatever thou art, 
 Which still doth inherit 
 
 The whole or a part 
 Of the form of thy birth, 
 
 Of the mould of thy clay, 
 Which returned to the earth, 
 
 Re-appear to the day ! 
 Bear what thou borest, 
 
 The heart and the form, 
 And the aspect thou worest 
 Redeem from the worm. 
 Appear ! — Appear I—- Appear ! 
 Who sent thee there requires thee here ! 
 
 ( The Phantom <^*Astarte rises and stands 
 in the midst,) 
 Man. Can this be death? there's bloom upon her 
 cheek ; 
 But now I see it is no living hue, 
 But a strange hectic — like the unnatural red 
 Which Autumn plants upon the perish'd leaf. 
 It is the same ! Oh, God ! that I should dread 
 To look upon the same — Astarte ! — No, 
 
50 MANFRED. ACT II. 
 
 I cannot speak to her-— but bid her speak — 
 Forgive me or condemn me. 
 
 Nemesis. 
 By the power which hath broken 
 
 The grave which enthralTd thee, 
 Speak to him who hath spoken, 
 
 Or those who have caird thee ! 
 
 Man. She is silent, 
 
 And in that silence I am more than answered. 
 
 Nem. My power extends no further. Prince of air ! 
 It rests with thee alone — command her voice. 
 
 Am. Spirit — obey this sceptre ! 
 
 Nem. Silent still ! 
 
 She is not of our order, but belongs 
 To the other powers. Mortal ! thy quest is vain, 
 And we are baffled also. 
 
 Man. Hear me, hear me — 
 
 Astarte ' my beloved ! speak to me : 
 I have so much endured — so much endure — 
 Look on me ! the grave hath not changed thee more 
 Than I am changed for thee. Thou lovedst me 
 Too much, as I loved thee : we were not made 
 
SCENE IV. MANFRED. 51 
 
 To torture thus each other, though it were 
 
 The deadliest sin to love as we have loved. 
 
 Say that thou loath 1 st me not — that I do bear 
 
 This punishment for both — that thou wilt be 
 
 One of the blessed — and that I shall die, 
 
 For hitherto all hateful things conspire 
 
 To bind me in existence — in a life 
 
 Which makes me shrink from immortality — 
 
 A future like the past. I cannot rest. 
 
 I know not what I ask, nor what I seek : 
 
 I feel but what thou art — and what I am ; 
 
 And I would hear yet once before I perish 
 
 The voice which was my music — Speak to me ! 
 
 For I have calTd on thee in the still night, 
 
 Startled the slumbering birds from the hush 1 d boughs, 
 
 And woke the mountain wolves, and made the caves 
 
 Acquainted with thy vainly echoed name, 
 
 Which answered me — many things answered me — 
 
 Spirits and men — but thou Avert silent all. 
 
 Yet speak to me ! I have outwatch'd the stars, 
 
 And gazed o^r heaven in vain in search of thee. 
 
 Speak to me ! I have wandered o'er the earth 
 
 And never found thy likenese — Speak to me ! 
 
 Look on the fiends around — they feel for me : 
 
 e 2 
 
52 MANFRED. ACT IT. 
 
 I fear them not, and feel for thee alone — 
 Speak to me ! though it be in wrath ; — but say — 
 I reck not what — but let me hear thee once — 
 This once—once more ! 
 
 Phantom of Astarte. Manfred ! 
 
 Man. Say on, say on — 
 
 I live but in the sound — it is thy voice ! 
 
 Phan. Manfred ! To-morrow ends thine earthly ills. 
 Farewell ! 
 
 Man. Yet one word more — am I forgiven ? 
 
 Phan. Farewell ! 
 
 Man. Say, shall we meet again ? 
 
 Phan. Farewell! 
 
 Man. One word for mercy ! Say, thou lovest me. 
 
 Phan. Manfred! 
 
 [The Spirit of Astarte disappears. 
 
 Nem. She's gone, and will not be recalTd ; 
 
 Her words will be fulfilTd. Return to the earth. 
 
 A Spirit. He is convulsed — This is to be a mortal 
 And seek the things beyond mortality. 
 
 Another Spirit. Yet, see, he mastereth himself, and 
 makes 
 His torture tributary to his will. 
 Had he been one of us, he would have made 
 An awful spirit. 
 
SCENE IVi MANFRED. 53 
 
 Nem. Hast thou further question 
 
 Of our great sovereign, or his worshippers ? 
 Man. None. 
 
 Nem. Then for a time farewell. 
 
 Man. We meet then ! Where ? On the earth ?— * 
 Even as thou wilt : and for the grace accorded 
 I now depart a debtor. Fare ye well ! 
 
 [Exit Manfred. 
 (Scene closes.) 
 
 END OF ACT SECOND;. 
 
54 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A Hall in the Castle of Manfred. 
 
 Manfred and Herman. 
 
 Man. What is the hour ? 
 
 Her. It wants but one till sunset, 
 And promises a lovely twilight. 
 
 Man. Say, 
 
 Are all things so disposed of in the tower 
 As I directed ? 
 
 Her. All, my lord, are ready ; 
 
 Here is the key and casket. 
 
 Man. It is well : 
 
 Thou mayst retire. [Exit Herman. 
 
 Man. (alone.) There is a calm upon me — 
 Inexplicable stillness ! which till now 
 Did not belong to what I knew of life. 
 
SCENE I. MANFRED. 55 
 
 If that I did not know philosophy 
 
 To be of all our vanities the motliest, 
 
 The merest word that ever fooFd the ear 
 
 From out the schoolman's jargon, I should deem 
 
 The golden secret, the sought " Kalon," found, 
 
 And seated in my soul. It will not last, 
 
 But it is well to have known it, though but once : 
 
 It hath enlarged my thoughts with a new sense, 
 
 And I within my tablets would note down 
 
 That there is such a feeling. Who is there ? 
 
 Re-enter Herman. 
 My lord, the abbot of St. Maurice craves 
 To greet your presence. 
 
 Enter the Abbot of St. Maurice. 
 Abbot. Peace be with Count Manfred ! 
 Man. Thanks, holy father ! welcome to these walls ; 
 Thy presence honours them, and blesseth those 
 Who dwell within them. 
 
 Abbot. Would it were so, Count ! — 
 
 But I Avould fain confer with thee alone. 
 
 Man. Herman, retire. What would my reverend 
 guest ? 
 
56 MANFRED. ACT III. 
 
 Abbot. Thus, without prelude : — Age and zeal, my 
 office, 
 And good intent, must plead my privilege ; 
 Our near, though not acquainted neighbourhood, 
 May also be my herald. Rumours strange, 
 And of unholy nature, are abroad, 
 And busy with thy name ; a noble name 
 For centuries ; may he who bears it now 
 Transmit it unimpair'd ! 
 
 Man. Proceed, — I listen. 
 
 Abbot. 'Tis said thou holdest converse with the things 
 Which are forbidden to the search of man ; 
 That with the dwellers of the dark abodes, 
 The many evil and unheavenly spirits 
 Which walk the valley of the shade of death, 
 Thou communest. I know that with mankind, 
 Thy fellows in creation, thou dost rarely 
 Exchange thy thoughts, and that thy solitude 
 Is as an anchorite's, were it but holy. 
 
 Man. And what are they who do avouch these things ? 
 
 Abbot. My pious brethren — the scared peasantry — 
 Even thy own vassals — who do look on thee 
 With most unquiet eyes. Thy life's in peril. 
 
 Man. Take it. 
 
SCENE I. 
 
 MANFRED. 57 
 
 Abbot. I come to save, and not destroy — 
 I would not pry into thy secret soul ; 
 But if these things be sooth, there still is time 
 For penitence and pity : reconcile thee 
 With the true church, and through the church to heaven. 
 
 MiK. I hear thee. This is my reply ; whate'er 
 I may have been, or am, doth rest between 
 Heaven and myself. — I shall not choose a mortal 
 To be my mediator. Have I sinn'd 
 Against your ordinances ? prove and punish ! 
 
 Abbot. My son ! I did not speak of punishment, 
 But penitence and pardon ; — with thyself 
 The choice of such remains — and for the last, 
 Our institutions and our strong belief 
 Have given me power to smooth the path from sin 
 To higher hope and better thoughts ; the first 
 I leave to heaven — " Vengeance is mine alone f 
 So saith the Lord, and with all humbleness 
 His servant echoes back the awful word. 
 
 Man. Old man ! there is no power in holy men, 
 Nor charm in prayer — nor purifying form 
 Of penitence — nor outward look — nor fast— 
 Nor agony — nor, greater than all these, 
 The innate tortures of that deep despair, 
 
58 MANFRED. 
 
 ACT HI. 
 
 Which is remorse without the fear of hell, 
 
 But all in all sufficient to itself 
 
 Would make a hell of heaven — can exorcise 
 
 From out the unbounded spirit, the quick sense 
 
 Of its own sins, wrongs, sufferance, and revenge 
 
 Upon itself; there is no future pang 
 
 Can deal that justice on the self-condemn , d 
 
 He deals on his own soul. 
 
 Abbot. All this is well ; 
 
 For this will pass away, and be succeeded 
 By an auspicious hope, which shall look up 
 With calm assurance to that blessed place, 
 Which all who seek may win, whatever be 
 Their earthly errors, so they be atoned : 
 And the commencement of atonement is 
 The sense of its necessity. — Say on — 
 And all our church can teach thee shall be taught ; 
 And all we can absolve thee, shall be pardon'd. 
 
 Man. When Rome's sixth Emperor was near his last, 
 The victim of a self-inflicted wound, 
 To shun the torments of a public death 
 From senates once his slaves, a certain soldier, 
 With show of loyal pity, would have staunch'd 
 The gushing throat with his officious robe ; 
 
SCENE I. MANFRED. 59 
 
 The dying Roman thrust him back and said — 
 
 Some empire still in his expiring glance, 
 
 " It is too late — is this fidelity ?" 
 Abbot. And what of this ? 
 Man. I answer with the Roman — 
 
 " It is too late !" 
 
 Abbot. It never can be so, 
 
 To reconcile thyself with thy own soul, 
 
 And thy own soul with heaven. Hast thou no hope ? 
 
 Tis strange — even those who do despair above, 
 
 Yet shape themselves some phantasy on earth, 
 
 To which frail twig they cling, like drowning men. 
 Man. Ay — father ! I have had those earthly visions 
 
 And noble aspirations in my youth, 
 
 To make my own the mind of other men, 
 
 The enlightener of nations ; and to rise 
 
 I knew not whither — it might be to fall ; 
 But fall, even as the mountain-cataract, 
 Which having leapt from its more dazzling height, 
 Even in the foaming strength of its abyss, 
 (Which casts up misty columns that become 
 Clouds raining from the re-ascended skies, j 
 Lies low but mighty still. — But this is past, 
 My thoughts mistook themselves. 
 
60 MANFRED. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Abbot. And wherefore so ? 
 
 Man. I could not tame my nature down ; for he 
 Must serve who fain would sway — and soothe — and 
 
 sue — 
 And watch all time — and pry into all place — 
 And be a living lie — who would become 
 A mighty thing amongst the mean, and such 
 The mass are ; I disdained to mingle with 
 A herd, though to be leader — and of wolves. 
 The Hon is alone, and so am I. 
 
 Abbot. And why not live and act with other men ? 
 
 Man. Because my nature was averse from life ; 
 And yet not cruel ; for I would not make, 
 But find a desolation : — like the wind, 
 The red-hot breath of the most lone Simoom, 
 Which dwells but in the desart, and sweeps o'er 
 The barren sands which bear no shrubs to blast, 
 And revels o'er their wild and arid waves, 
 And seeketh not, so that it is not sought, 
 But being met is deadly ; such hath been 
 The course of my existence ; but there came 
 Things in my path which are no more. 
 
 Abbot. Alas ! 
 
 I 'gin to fear that thou art past all aid 
 
SCENE I. MANFRED. 61 
 
 From me and from my calling ; yet so young, 
 
 I still would 
 
 Man. Look on me ! there is an order 
 
 Of mortals on the earth, who do become 
 Old in their youth, and die ere middle age, 
 Without the violence of warlike death ; 
 Some perishing of pleasure — some of study — 
 Some worn with toil — some of mere weariness — 
 Some of disease — and some insanity — 
 And some of withered, or of broken hearts ; 
 For this last is a malady which slays 
 More than are numbered in the lists of Fate, 
 Taking all shapes, and bearing many names. 
 Look upon me ! for even of all these things 
 Have I partaken ; and of all these things, 
 One were enough ; then wonder not that I 
 Am what I am, but that I ever was, 
 Or, having been, that I am still on earth. 
 
 Abbot. Yet, hear me still 
 
 Man. Old man ! I do respect 
 
 Thine order, and revere thine years ; I deem 
 Thy purpose pious, but it is in vain : 
 Think me not churlish ; I would spare thyself, 
 
62 MANFRED. ACT III. 
 
 Far more than me, in shunning at this time 
 All further colloquy — and so — farewell. 
 
 [Exit Manfred. 
 Abbot. This should have been a noble creature : he 
 Hath all the energy which would have made 
 A goodly frame of glorious elements, 
 Had they been wisely mingled ; as it is, 
 It is an awful chaos — light and darkness — 
 And mind and dust — and passions and pure thoughts, 
 Mix'd, and contending without end or order, 
 All dormant or destructive : he will perish, 
 And yet he must not ; I will try once more, 
 For such are worth redemption ; and my duty 
 Is to dare all things for a righteous end. 
 ril follow him — but cautiously, though surely. 
 
 [Exit Abbot. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Another Chamber. 
 
 Manfred and Herman. 
 
 Her. My Lord, you bade me wait on you at sunset : 
 He sinks behind the mountain. 
 
SCENE II. 
 
 MANFRED. 63 
 
 Man. Dotli he so ? 
 
 I will look on him. 
 
 [Manfred advances to the Window of the Hall. 
 Glorious Orb ! the idol 
 Of early nature, and the vigorous race 
 Of undiseased mankind, the giant sons* 
 Of the embrace of angels, with a sex 
 More beautiful than they, which did draw down 
 The erring spirits who can ne^r return. — 
 Most glorious orb ! that werr a worship, ere 
 The mystery of thy making was reveal'd ! 
 Thou earliest minister of the Almighty, 
 Which gladden'd, on their mountain tops, the hearts 
 Of the Chaldean shepherds, till they pour'd 
 Themselves in orisons ! Thou material God ! 
 And representative of the Unknown — 
 Who chose thee for his shadow ! Thou chief star ! 
 Centre of many stars ! which mak'st our earth 
 Endurable, and temperest the hues 
 And hearts of all who walk within thy rays ! 
 Sire of the seasons ! Monarch of the climes, 
 And those who dwell in them I for near or far, 
 Our inborn spirits have a tint of thee, 
 Even as our outward aspects ;— thou dost rise, 
 
64 MANFRED. 
 
 ACT 1H. 
 
 And shine, and set in glory. Fare thee well ! 
 I ne'er shall see thee more. As my first glance 
 Of love and wonder was for thee, then take 
 My latest look : thou wilt not beam on one 
 To whom the gifts of life and warmth have been 
 Of a more fatal nature. He is gone : 
 I follow. 
 
 [Exit Manfred, 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 The Mountains. — The Castle of Manfred at some di- 
 stance. — A Terrace before a Tower. — Time, Twilight. 
 
 Herman, Manuel, and other Dependants o/*Manfred, 
 
 Her. 'Tis strange enough ; night after night, for years, 
 He hath pursued long vigils in this tower, 
 Without a witness. I have been within it, — 
 So have we all been oft-times ; but from it, 
 Or its contents, it were impossible 
 To draw conclusions absolute, of aught 
 His studies tend to. To be sure, there is 
 One chamber where none enter ; I would give 
 
SCENE III. . MANFRED. 65 
 
 The fee of what I have to come these three years, 
 To pore upon its mysteries. 
 
 Manuel. 'Twere dangerous ; 
 
 Content thyself with what thou knowest already. 
 
 Her. Ah ! Manuel ! thou art elderly and wise, 
 And could'st say much; thou hast dwelt within the castle — 
 How many years is 1 ! ? 
 
 Manuel. Ere Count Manfred's birth, 
 I served his father, whom he nought resembles. 
 
 Her. There be more sons in like predicament. 
 But wherein do they differ ? 
 
 Manuel. I speak not 
 
 Of features or of form, but mind and habits : 
 Count Sigismund was proud, — but gay and free, — 
 A warrior and a reveller ; he dwelt not 
 With books and solitude, nor made the night 
 A gloomy vigil, but a festal time, 
 Merrier than day ; he did not walk the rocks 
 And forests like a wolf, nor turn aside 
 From men and their delights. 
 
 Her. Beshrew the hour, 
 But those were jocund times ! I would that such 
 Would visit the old walls again ; they look 
 As if they had forgotten them. 
 
66 MANFRED. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Manuel. These walls 
 
 Must change their chieftain first. Oh ! I have seen 
 Some strange things in them, Herman. 
 
 Her. Come, be friendly ; 
 Relate me some to while away our watch : 
 I've heard thee darkly speak of an event 
 Which happened hereabouts, by this same tower. 
 
 Manuel. That was a night indeed; I do remember 
 'Twas twilight, as it may be now, and such 
 Another evening; — yon red cloudy which rests 
 On Eigher's pinnacle, so rested then,— 
 So like that it might be the same ; the wind 
 Was faint and gusty, and the mountain snows 
 Began to glitter with the climbing moon ; 
 Count Manfred was, as now, within his tower, — 
 How occupied, we knew not, but with him 
 The sole companion of his wanderings 
 And watchings — her, whom of all earthly things 
 That lived, the only thing he seem'd to love, — 
 As he, indeed, by blood was bound to do, 
 
 The lady Astarte, his 
 
 Hush ! who comes here? 
 
SCENE III. MANFRED. 67 
 
 Enter the Abbot. 
 Abbot. Where is your master ? 
 Her. Yonder, in the tower. 
 Abbot. I must speak with him. 
 Manuel. 'Tis impossible ; 
 
 He is most private, and must not be thus 
 Intruded on. 
 
 Abbot. Upon myself I take 
 
 The forfeit of my fault, if fault there be — 
 But I must see him. 
 
 Her. Thou hast seen him once 
 
 This eve already. 
 
 Abbot. Herman ! I command thee, 
 
 Knock, and apprize the Count of my approach. 
 Her. We dare not. 
 
 Abbot. Then it seems I must be herald 
 Of my own purpose. 
 
 Manuel. Reverend father, stop — 
 
 I pray you pause. 
 
 Abbot. Why so? 
 
 Manuel. But step this way, 
 
 And T will tell you further. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 f2 
 
68 MANFRED. ACT III. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 Interior of the Tower. 
 
 Manfred alone. 
 
 Man. The stars are forth, the moon above the tops 
 Of the snow-shining mountains. — Beautiful ! 
 I linger yet with Nature, for the night 
 Hath been to me a more familiar face 
 Than that of man ; and in her starry shade 
 Of dim and solitary loveliness, 
 I learn'd the language of another world. 
 I do remember me, that in my youth, 
 When I was wandering, — upon such a night 
 I stood within the Coloseum's wall, 
 'Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome; 
 The trees which grew along the broken arches 
 Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars 
 Shone through the rents of ruin ; from afar 
 The watchdog bayed beyond the Tiber ; and 
 More near from out the Caesars 1 palace came 
 The owl's long cry, and, interruptedly, 
 Of distant sentinels the fitful song 
 
SCENE IV. MANFRED, 69 
 
 Begun and died upon the gentle wind. 
 
 Some cypresses beyond the time-worn breach 
 
 Appeared to skirt the horizon, yet they stood 
 
 Within a bowshot — where the Caesars dwelt, 
 
 And dwell the tuneless birds of night, amidst 
 
 A grove which springs through levelTd battlements, 
 
 And twines its roots with the imperial hearths, 
 
 Ivy usurps the laurel's place of growth ; — 
 
 But the gladiators" 1 bloody Circus stands, 
 
 A noble wreck in ruinous perfection ! 
 
 While Caesar's chambers, and the Augustan halls, 
 
 Grovel on earth in indistinct decay. — 
 
 And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, upon 
 
 All this, and cast a wide and tender light, 
 
 Which soften'd down the hoar austerity 
 
 Of rugged desolation, and filTd up, 
 
 As 'twere, anew, the gaps of centuries ; 
 
 Leaving that beautiful which still was so, 
 
 And making that which was not, till the place 
 
 Became religion, and the heart ran o'er 
 
 With silent worship of the great of old ! — 
 
 The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule 
 
 Our spirits from their urns. — 
 
 'Twas such a night ! 
 
70 MANFRED. ACT I IT. 
 
 'Tis strange that I recall it at this time ; 
 But I have found our thoughts take wildest flight 
 Even at the moment when they should array 
 Themselves in pensive order. 
 
 Enter the Abbot. 
 
 Abbot. My good Lord ! 
 
 I crave a second grace for this approach ; 
 But yet let not my humble zeal offend 
 By its abruptness — all it hath of ill 
 Recoils on me ; its good in the effect 
 May light upon your head— could I say heart — 
 Could I touch that, with words or prayers, I should 
 Recall a noble spirit which hath wandered ; 
 But is not yet all lost, 
 
 Man, Thou know'st me not ; 
 
 My days are numbered, and my deeds recorded: 
 Retire, or 'twill be dangerous — Away ! 
 
 Abbot. Thou dost not mean to menace me ? 
 
 Man, Not I ; 
 
 I simply tell thee peril is at hand, 
 And would preserve thee. 
 
 Abbot. What dost mean ? 
 
SCENE IV. MANFRED. 71 
 
 Man. Look there ! 
 
 What dost thou see ? 
 
 Abbot. Nothing. 
 
 Man. Look there, I say, 
 
 And steadfastly ; — 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. 
 I say to thee — Retire ! 
 
 Abbot. And, I reply — 
 
 Never — till I have battled with this fiend— 
 What doth he here ? 
 
 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 ? 
 
72 MANFRED. ACT III. 
 
 All ! he unveils his aspect ; on his brow 
 The thunder-scars are graven ; from his eye 
 Glares forth the immortality of hell — 
 A vaunt ! 
 
 Man. Pronounce — what is thy mission ? 
 
 Spirit. Come ! 
 
 Abbot. What art thou, unknown being ? answer ! — 
 speak ! 
 
 Spirit^ The genius of this mortal. — Come ! 'tis time. 
 
 Man. I am prepared for all things, but deny 
 The power which summons me. Who sent thee here ? 
 
 Spirit. Thou'lt know anon — Come ! come ! 
 
 Man. I have commanded 
 
 Things of an essence greater far than thine, 
 And striven with thy^ masters. Get thee hence ! 
 
 Spirit. Mortal ! thine hour is come — Away ! I say. 
 
 Man. I knew, and know my hour is come, but not 
 To render up my soul to such as thee : 
 Away ! I'll die as I have lived — alone. 
 
 Spirit. Then I must summon up my brethren. — Rise ! 
 
 [Other Spirits rise up. 
 
 Abbot. Avaunt ! ye evil ones ! — A vaunt ! I say, — 
 Ye have no power where piety hath power, 
 And I do charge ye in the name 
 
SCENE IV. MANFRED. 73 
 
 Spirit. Old man ! 
 
 We know ourselves, our mission, and thine order ; 
 Waste not thy holy words on idle uses, 
 It were in vain ; this man is forfeited. 
 Once more I summon him — Away ! away ! 
 
 Man. I do defy ye, — though I feel my soul 
 Is ebbing from me, yet I do defy ye ; 
 Nor will I hence, while I have earthly breath 
 To breathe my scorn upon ye — earthly strength 
 To wrestle, though with spirits ; what ye take 
 Shall be ta'en limb by limb. 
 
 Spirit. Reluctant mortal ! 
 
 Is this the Magian who would so pervade 
 The world invisible, and make himself 
 Almost our equal ? — Can it be that thou 
 Art thus in love with life ? the very life 
 Which made thee wretched ! 
 
 Man. 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, 
 
74 MANFRED. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 But by superior science — penance — daring — 
 
 And length of watching— strength of mind — and skill 
 
 In knowledge of our fathers — when the earth 
 
 Saw men and spirits walking side by side, 
 
 And gave ye no supremacy : I stand 
 
 Upon my strength — I do defy — deny — 
 
 Spurn back, and scorn ye ! — 
 
 Spirit. But thy many crimes 
 
 Have made thee 
 
 Man. What are they to such as thee ? 
 
 Must crimes be punish'd but by other crimes, 
 And greater criminals ? — Back to thy hell ! 
 Thou hast no power upon me, that I feel ; 
 Thou never shalt possess me, that I know : 
 What I have done is done ; I bear within 
 A torture which could nothing gain from thine : 
 The mind which is immortal makes itself 
 Requital for its good or evil thoughts — 
 Is its own origin of ill and end — 
 And its own place and time — its innate sense, 
 When stripp"^ of this mortality, derives 
 No colour from the fleeting things without ; 
 But is absorb'd in sufferance or in joy, 
 
SCENE IV 
 
 MANFRED. 75 
 
 Born from the knowledge of its own desert. 
 
 Thou didst not tempt me, and thou couldst not tempt 
 
 me; 
 I have not been thy dupe, nor am thy prey — 
 But was my own destroyer, and will be 
 My own hereafter. — Back, ye baffled fiends ! 
 The hand of death is on me — but not yours ! 
 
 {The Demons disappear. 
 Abbot. Alas ! how pale thou art — thy lips are white — 
 And thy breast heaves — and in thy gasping throat 
 The accents rattle — Give thy prayers to heaven- 
 Pray — albeit but hi 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 well — 
 Give me thy hand. 
 
 [Manfred expires. 
 Abbot. Cold — cold — even to the heart — 
 
 But yet one prayer — alas ! how fares it with thee ? — 
 He's gone — his soul hath ta'en its earthless flight — 
 Whither ? I dread to think — but he is gone. 
 
NOTES. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Note ], page 31, line l. 
 — the sunboto's rays still arch 
 
 The torrent with the many hues of heaven. 
 
 This iris is formed by the rays of the sun over the lower 
 part of the Alpine torrents : it is exactly like a rainbow, 
 come down to pay a visit, and so close that you may walk 
 into it: — this effect lasts till noon. 
 
 Note 2, page 35, line g. 
 He "who from out their fountain dwellings raised, 
 Eros and Anteros, at Gadara. 
 
 The philosopher Iamblicus. The story of the raising of 
 Eros and Anteros may be found in his life, by Eunapius. It 
 is well told. 
 
 Note 3, page 39, line 21. 
 
 ■ she replied 
 
 In "words of dubious import, but fulfilled. 
 
 The story of Pausanias, king of Sparta, (who commanded 
 the Greeks at the battle of Platea, and afterwards perished 
 
80 NOTES. 
 
 for an attempt to betray the Lacedemonians) and Cleonice, 
 is told in Plutarch's life of Cimon ; and in the Laconics of 
 Pausanias the Sophist,, in his description of Greece. 
 
 Note 4, page 63, line 6. 
 
 — r the giant sons 
 
 Of the embrace of angels. 
 
 " That the Sons of God saw the daughters of men, that 
 they were fair," &c. 
 
 " There were giants on the earth in those days, and also 
 after that, when the Sons of God came in unto the daughters 
 of men: and they bare children to them, the same became 
 mighty men, which were of old, men of renown." 
 
 Genesis, ch. vi. verses 2 and 4. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 T. DAVISON, Lombard-street, 
 Whit* 1 friars, London.