No More Learning

[z]
There yet are two things in my destiny,--
A world to roam through, and a home with thee. [84]

II.

The first were nothing--had I still the last,
It were the haven of my happiness;
But other claims and other ties thou hast,[aa]
And mine is not the wish to make them less.
A strange doom is thy father's son's, and past[ab]
Recalling, as it lies beyond redress;
Reversed for him our grandsire's[85] fate of yore,--
He had no rest at sea, nor I on shore.

III.

If my inheritance of storms hath been
In other elements, and on the rocks
Of perils, overlooked or unforeseen,
I have sustained my share of worldly shocks,
The fault was mine; nor do I seek to screen
My errors with defensive paradox;[ac]
I have been cunning in mine overthrow,
The careful pilot of my proper woe.

IV.

Mine were my faults, and mine be their reward.
My whole life was a contest, since the day
That gave me being, gave me that which marred
The gift,--a fate, or will, that walked astray;[86]
And I at times have found the struggle hard,
And thought of shaking off my bonds of clay:
But now I fain would for a time survive,
If but to see what next can well arrive.

V.

Kingdoms and Empires in my little day
I have outlived, and yet I am not old;
And when I look on this, the petty spray
Of my own years of trouble, which have rolled
Like a wild bay of breakers, melts away:
Something--I know not what--does still uphold
A spirit of slight patience;--not in vain,
Even for its own sake, do we purchase Pain.

VI.

Perhaps the workings of defiance stir
Within me--or, perhaps, a cold despair
Brought on when ills habitually recur,--
Perhaps a kinder clime, or purer air,
(For even to this may change of soul refer,[ad]
And with light armour we may learn to bear,)
Have taught me a strange quiet, which was not
The chief companion of a calmer lot. [ae]

VII.

I feel almost at times as I have felt
In happy childhood; trees, and flowers, and brooks,
Which do remember me of where I dwelt,
Ere my young mind was sacrificed to books,[af]
Come as of yore upon me, and can melt
My heart with recognition of their looks;
And even at moments I could think I see
Some living thing to love--but none like thee. [ag]

VIII.

Here are the Alpine landscapes which create
A fund for contemplation;--to admire
Is a brief feeling of a trivial date;
But something worthier do such scenes inspire:
Here to be lonely is not desolate,[87]
For much I view which I could most desire,
And, above all, a Lake I can behold
Lovelier, not dearer, than our own of old. [88]

IX.

Oh that thou wert but with me! --but I grow
The fool of my own wishes, and forget
The solitude which I have vaunted so
Has lost its praise in this but one regret;
There may be others which I less may show;--
I am not of the plaintive mood, and yet
I feel an ebb in my philosophy,
And the tide rising in my altered eye. [ah]

X.

I did remind thee of our own dear Lake,
By the old Hall which may be mine no more.
_Leman's_ is fair; but think not I forsake
The sweet remembrance of a dearer shore:
Sad havoc Time must with my memory make,
Ere that or thou can fade these eyes before;
Though, like all things which I have loved, they are
Resigned for ever, or divided far.

XI.

The world is all before me; I but ask
Of Nature that with which she will comply--
It is but in her Summer's sun to bask,
To mingle with the quiet of her sky,
To see her gentle face without a mask,
And never gaze on it with apathy.
She was my early friend, and now shall be
My sister--till I look again on thee.

XII.

I can reduce all feelings but this one;
And that I would not;--for at length I see
Such scenes as those wherein my life begun--[89]
The earliest--even the only paths for me--[ai]
Had I but sooner learnt the crowd to shun,
I had been better than I now can be;
The Passions which have torn me would have slept;
_I_ had not suffered, and _thou_ hadst not wept.

XIII.

With false Ambition what had I to do?
Little with Love, and least of all with Fame;
And yet they came unsought, and with me grew,
And made me all which they can make--a Name.
Yet this was not the end I did pursue;
Surely I once beheld a nobler aim.
But all is over--I am one the more
To baffled millions which have gone before.

XIV.

And for the future, this world's future may[aj]
From me demand but little of my care;
I have outlived myself by many a day;[ak]
Having survived so many things that were;
My years have been no slumber, but the prey
Of ceaseless vigils; for I had the share
Of life which might have filled a century,[90]
Before its fourth in time had passed me by.

XV.

And for the remnant which may be to come[al]
I am content; and for the past I feel
Not thankless,--for within the crowded sum
Of struggles, Happiness at times would steal,
And for the present, I would not benumb
My feelings farther. --Nor shall I conceal
That with all this I still can look around,
And worship Nature with a thought profound.

XVI.

For thee, my own sweet sister, in thy heart
I know myself secure, as thou in mine;
We were and are--I am, even as thou art--[am]
Beings who ne'er each other can resign;
It is the same, together or apart,
From Life's commencement to its slow decline
We are entwined--let Death come slow or fast,[an]
The tie which bound the first endures the last!

[First published, _Letters and Journals,_ 1830, ii. 38-41. ]





LINES ON HEARING THAT LADY BYRON WAS ILL. [91]

And thou wert sad--yet I was not with thee;
And thou wert sick, and yet I was not near;
Methought that Joy and Health alone could be
Where I was _not_--and pain and sorrow here!
And is it thus? --it is as I foretold,
And shall be more so; for the mind recoils
Upon itself, and the wrecked heart lies cold,
While Heaviness collects the shattered spoils.
It is not in the storm nor in the strife
We feel benumbed, and wish to be no more,
But in the after-silence on the shore,
When all is lost, except a little life.

I am too well avenged! --but 'twas my right;
Whate'er my sins might be, _thou_ wert not sent
To be the Nemesis who should requite--[92]
Nor did Heaven choose so near an instrument.
Mercy is for the merciful! --if thou
Hast been of such, 'twill be accorded now.
Thy nights are banished from the realms of sleep:--[93]
Yes! they may flatter thee, but thou shall feel
A hollow agony which will not heal,
For thou art pillowed on a curse too deep;
Thou hast sown in my sorrow, and must reap
The bitter harvest in a woe as real!
I have had many foes, but none like thee;
For 'gainst the rest myself I could defend,
And be avenged, or turn them into friend;
But thou in safe implacability
Hadst nought to dread--in thy own weakness shielded,
And in my love, which hath but too much yielded,
And spared, for thy sake, some I should not spare;
And thus upon the world--trust in thy truth,
And the wild fame of my ungoverned youth--
On things that were not, and on things that are--
Even upon such a basis hast thou built
A monument, whose cement hath been guilt!
The moral Clytemnestra of thy lord,[94]
And hewed down, with an unsuspected sword,
Fame, peace, and hope--and all the better life
Which, but for this cold treason of thy heart,
Might still have risen from out the grave of strife,
And found a nobler duty than to part.
But of thy virtues didst thou make a vice,
Trafficking with them in a purpose cold,
For present anger, and for future gold--
And buying others' grief at any price. [95]
And thus once entered into crooked ways,
The early truth, which was thy proper praise,[96]
Did not still walk beside thee--but at times,
And with a breast unknowing its own crimes,
Deceit, averments incompatible,
Equivocations, and the thoughts which dwell
In Janus-spirits--the significant eye
Which learns to lie with silence--the pretext[97]
Of prudence, with advantages annexed--
The acquiescence in all things which tend,
No matter how, to the desired end--
All found a place in thy philosophy.
The means were worthy, and the end is won--
I would not do by thee as thou hast done!

MONODY ON THE DEATH

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.


Manfred.
Chamois Hunter.
Abbot of St. Maurice.
Manuel.
Herman.

Witch of the Alps.
Arimanes.
Nemesis.
The Destinies.
Spirits, etc.

_The Scene of the Drama is amongst the Higher Alps--partly in the
Castle of Manfred, and partly in the Mountains. _




MANFRED. [106]


ACT 1.

SCENE 1. --Manfred _alone_. --_Scene, a Gothic Gallery. _[107]--
_Time, Midnight. _

_Man_. The lamp must be replenished, 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 10
Must mourn the deepest o'er the fatal truth,
The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life.
Philosophy and science, and the springs[108]
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 availed not: I have had my foes,
And none have baffled, many fallen before me-- 20
But this availed 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! [ap]
Whom I have sought in darkness and in light-- 30
Ye, who do compass earth about, and dwell
In subtler essence--ye, to whom the tops
Of mountains inaccessible are haunts,[aq]
And Earth's and Ocean's caves familiar things--
I call upon ye by the written charm[109]
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[110]--by this sign,
Which makes you tremble--by the claims of him
Who is undying,--Rise! Appear! ----Appear! 40
[A pause.
If it be so. --Spirits of Earth and Air,
Ye shall not so elude me! By a power,
Deeper than all yet urged, a tyrant-spell,
Which had its birthplace in a star condemned,
The burning wreck of a demolished world,
A wandering hell in the eternal Space;
By the strong curse which is upon my Soul,[111]
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. _]

First Spirit.

Mortal! to thy bidding bowed, 50
From my mansion in the cloud,
Which the breath of Twilight builds,
And the Summer's sunset gilds
With the azure and vermilion,
Which is mixed for my pavilion;[ar]
Though thy quest may be forbidden,
On a star-beam I have ridden,
To thine adjuration bowed:
Mortal--be thy wish avowed!

_Voice of the_ Second Spirit.

Mont Blanc is the Monarch of mountains; 60
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, 70
Or with its ice delay. [as]
I am the Spirit of the place,
Could make the mountain bow
And quiver to his caverned base--
And what with me would'st _Thou? _

_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 80
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 rolled--
To the Spirit of Ocean
Thy wishes unfold!

FOURTH SPIRIT.

Where the slumbering Earthquake
Lies pillowed on fire,
And the lakes of bitumen 90
Rise boilingly higher;
Where the roots of the Andes
Strike deep in the earth,
As their summits to heaven
Shoot soaringly forth;
I have quitted my birthplace,
Thy bidding to bide--
Thy spell hath subdued me,
Thy will be my guide!

FIFTH SPIRIT.

I am the Rider of the wind, 100
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 no 110
Was ruled, ere earth began, by me:
It was a World as fresh and fair
As e'er revolved round Sun in air;
Its course was free and regular,
Space bosomed 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, 120
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-- 130
What would'st thou, Child of Clay! with me? [112]

_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 would'st thou with us, Son of mortals--say?

_Man_. Forgetfulness----

_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 140
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 may'st die.

_Man_. Will Death bestow it on me?

_Spirit_. We are immortal, and do not forget;
We are eternal; and to us the past 150
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,[at]
The lightning of my being, is as bright,
Pervading, and far darting as your own,
And shall not yield to yours, though cooped in clay!
Answer, or I will teach you what I am. [au]

_Spirit_. We answer--as we answered; our reply
Is even in thine own words.

_Man_. Why say ye so? 160

_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 called ye from your realms in vain;
Ye cannot, or ye will not, aid me.

_Spirit_. Say--[113]
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! 170

_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,
As Music on the waters;[114] 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 accustomed forms. 180

_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 beautiful
female figure)_. [115] Behold!

_Man_. Oh God! if it be thus, and _thou_[116]
Art not a madness and a mockery,
I yet might be most happy. I will clasp thee, 190
And we again will be----
[_The figure vanishes. _
My heart is crushed!
[MANFRED _falls senseless_.

(_A voice is heard in the Incantation which follows. _)[117]

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;[118]
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, 200
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 210
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 turned around thy head,
Thou shalt marvel I am not
As thy shadow on the spot,
And the power which thou dost feel 220
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 thee shall Night deny
All the quiet of her sky;
And the day shall have a sun, 230
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 snatched the snake,
For there it coiled as in a brake;
From thy own lip I drew the charm
Which gave all these their chiefest harm;
In proving every poison known, 240
I found the strongest was thine own.

By the cold breast and serpent smile,
By thy unfathomed gulfs of guile,
By that most seeming virtuous eye,
By thy shut soul's hypocrisy;
By the perfection of thine art
Which passed for human thine own heart;
By thy delight in others' pain,
And by thy brotherhood of Cain,
I call upon thee! and compel[av] 250
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 260
Hath the word been passed--now wither!

SCENE II. --_The Mountain of the Jungfrau_. --
_Time, Morning_. --MANFRED _alone upon the cliffs. _

_Man_. The spirits I have raised abandon me,
The spells which I have studied baffle me,
The remedy I recked of tortured me
I lean no more on superhuman aid;
It hath no power upon the past, and for
The future, till the past be gulfed in darkness,
It is not of my search. --My Mother Earth! [119]
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, 10
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
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; 20
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. Aye,
Thou winged and cloud-cleaving minister, 30
[_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! [120]
How glorious in its action and itself!
But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we,
Half dust, half deity, alike unfit 40
To sink or soar, with our mixed 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, 50
Mixed with the sweet bells of the sauntering herd;[121]
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[122]--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 reached 60
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-haired with anguish, like these blasted pines,
Wrecks of a single winter, barkless, branchless,[123]
A blighted trunk upon a cursed root,
Which but supplies a feeling to Decay--
And to be thus, eternally but thus, 70
Having been otherwise! Now furrowed o'er
With wrinkles, ploughed 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;[124] but ye pass,
And only fall on things that still would live;
On the young flourishing forest, or the hut 80
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.

_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,[aw]
Whose every wave breaks on a living shore,
Heaped with the damned like pebbles. --I am giddy. [125]

_C. Hun_. I must approach him cautiously; if near, 90
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 crushed the waters into mist, and made
Their fountains find another channel--thus,
Thus, in its old age, did Mount Rosenberg--[126]
Why stood I not beneath it?

_C. Hun_. Friend! have a care, 100
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--
In this one plunge. --Farewell, ye opening Heavens!
Look not upon me thus reproachfully--
You 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, 110
Stain not our pure vales with thy guilty blood:
Away with me----I 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-- 120
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 washed 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.


SCENE I. --_A Cottage among 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; 10
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! 20

_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! 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,[127]
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. 30

_C. Hun_. Man of strange words, and some half-maddening sin,[ax]
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, 40
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. 50

_Man_. Think'st thou existence doth depend on time? [128]
It doth; but actions are our epochs: mine
Have made my days and nights imperishable,
Endless, and all alike, as sands on the shore,
Innumerable atoms; and one desert,
Barren and cold, on which the wild waves break,
But nothing rests, save carcasses 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 60
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, 70
And thy grandchildren's love for epitaph!
This do I see--and then I look within--
It matters not--my Soul was scorched already!

_C. Hun_. And would'st thou then exchange thy lot for mine?

_Man_. No, friend! I would not wrong thee, nor exchange
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, 80
Canst thou be black with evil? --say not so.
Can one of gentle thoughts have wreaked 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 quelled
An enemy, save in my just defence--
But my embrace was fatal.

_C. Hun_. Heaven give thee rest!
And Penitence restore thee to thyself;
My prayers shall be for thee.

_Man_. I need them not,
But can endure thy pity. I depart-- 90
'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. --_A lower Valley in the Alps. --A Cataract_.

_Enter_ MANFRED.

It is not noon--the Sunbow's rays[129] 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 lines 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. [130] No eyes
But mine now drink this sight of loveliness;
I should be sole in this sweet solitude, 10
And with the Spirit of the place divide
The homage of these waters. --I will call her.

[MANFRED _takes some of the water into the palm of his
hand and flings it into the air, muttering the ajuration.
After a pause, the_ WITCH OF THE ALPS _rises beneath
the arch of the sunbow of the torrent. _

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
Of purer elements; while the hues of youth,--
Carnationed like a sleeping Infant's cheek,
Rocked by the beating of her mother's heart,
Or the rose tints, which Summer's twilight leaves 20
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! in thy calm clear brow,
Wherein is glassed serenity of Soul,[ay]
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 30
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 would'st thou with me?

_Man_. To look upon thy beauty--nothing further.
The face of the earth hath maddened me, and I
Take refuge in her mysteries, and pierce 40
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 50
My Spirit walked not with the souls of men,
Nor looked 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, 60
I held but slight communion; but instead,
My joy was in the wilderness,--to breathe
The difficult air of the iced mountain's top,[131]
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. [132]
In these my early strength exulted; or
To follow through the night the moving moon,[133] 70
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 evening song.
These were my pastimes, and to be alone;
For if the beings, of whom I was one,--
Hating to be so,--crossed 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, 80
Searching its cause in its effect; and drew
From withered bones, and skulls, and heaped up dust
Conclusions most forbidden. [134] Then I passed--
The nights of years in sciences untaught,
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, 90
Such as, before me, did the Magi, and
He who from out their fountain-dwellings raised
Eros and Anteros,[135] 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 100
Father or mother, mistress, friend, or being,
With whom I wore the chain of human ties;
If I had such, they seemed 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
Even of her voice, they said were like to mine;
But softened all, and tempered into beauty:
She had the same lone thoughts and wanderings,
The quest of hidden knowledge, and a mind 110
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 destroyed her!

_Witch_. With thy hand?

_Man_. Not with my hand, but heart, which broke her heart;
It gazed on mine, and withered.