The future,till the past be gulf'd in darkness, | Have baffled me; my gains to-day will scarce It is not of my search. My mother Earth! Repay my break-neck travail.___ What is here? And thou fresh breaking Day, and you, ye Who seems not of my trade, and yet hath Mountains, Why are ye beautiful? I cannot love ye. reach'd A height which none even of our mount- Save our best hunters, may attain: his garb I will approach him nearer. Manf. (Not perceiving the other.) To be thus Gray-hair'd with anguish, like these blasted pines, Wrecks of a single winter, barkless, branch- A blighted trunk upon a cursed root, My own soul's sepulchre, for I have ceased And hours-all tortured into ages-hours should be Thy prey, and gorge thine eaglets; thou art gone Where the eye cannot follow thee; but thine who name ourselves its sovereigns, we, Half dust, half deity, alike unfit To sink or soar, with our mix'd essence make And men are what they name not to them- And trust not to each other. Hark! the note, The natural music of the mountain-reed- herd; My soul would drink those echoes. — Oh, C. Hunt. The mists begin to rise from up I'll warn him to descend, or he may chance glaciers; clouds Rise curling fast beneath me, white and Like foam from the roused ocean of deep Whose every wave breaks on a living shore, C. Hunt. I must approach him cautiously; if near, A sudden step will startle him, and he Manf. Mountains have fallen, Rocking their Alpine brethren; filling up Damming the rivers with a sudden dash, C. Hunt. Friend! have a care, Manf. (Not hearing him.) Such would | My way of life leads me but rarely down have been for me a fitting tomb; To bask by the huge hearths of those old halls, My bones had then been quiet in their depth; They had not then been strewn upon the rocks Carousing with the vassals; but the paths, For the wind's pastime-as thus-thus they | Which step from out our mountains to their shall be doors, In this one plunge.-Farewell, ye opening I know from childhood-which of these is 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. Hunt. Hold, madman!—though aweary of thy life, Stain not our pure vales with thy guilty blood. Away with me- I will not quit my hold. Manf. I am most sick at heart - nay, grasp me not I am all feebleness-the mountains whirl Spinning around me--I grow blind.—What art thou? C. Hunt. 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-wellThe Chalet will be gain'd 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.) ACT II. thine? Manf. No matter. C. Hunt. 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 thaw'd my veins among our glaciers, now Let it do thus for thine-Come, pledge me fairly. Manf. Away, away! there's blood upon the brim! Will it then never-never sink in the earth? C. Hunt. What dost thou mean? thy senses wander from thee. Manf. I say 'tis blood-my blood! the pure warm stream Which ran in the veins of my fathers, and in ours When we were in our youth, and had one heart, And loved each other as we should not love, And this was shed: but still it rises up, Colouring the clouds, that shut me out from heaven, Where thou art not-and I shall never be. C. Hunt. Man of strange words, and some half-maddening sin, Which makes thee people vacancy, whate'er Thy dread and sufferance be, there's comfort yet The aid of holy men, and heavenly patienceManf. Patience, and patience! Hencethat word was made For brutes of burthen, not for birds of prey; Preach it to mortals of a dust like thine.I am not of thine order. C. Hunt. Thanks to Heaven! SCENE I-A Cottage amongst the Bernese I would not be of thine for the free fame Alps. MANFRED and the CHAMOis Hunter. C. Hunt. No, no-yet pause-thou must not yet go forth: Thy mind and body are alike unfit Manf. It imports not: I do know My route full well, and need no further guidance. C. Hunt. Thy garb and gait bespeak thee of high lineage One of the many chiefs, whose castled crags Look o'er the lower valleys-which of these May call thee Lord? I only know their portals; Of William Tell; but whatsoe'er thine ill, It must be borne, and these wild starts are Manf. Think'st thou existence doth de- | SCENE II-A lower Valley in the Alps.— pend on time? It doth: but actions are our epochs: mine But nothing rests, save carcasses and wrecks, Manf. I would I were for then the things Would be but a distemper'd dream. C. Hunt. What is it That thou dost see, or think thou look'st upon? Manf. Myself and thee a peasant of Thy humble virtues, hospitable home, Thy days of health, and nights of sleep; By danger dignified, yet guiltless; hopes Manf. No, friend! I would not wrong My lot with living being: I can bear- But perish in their slumber. C. Hunt. And with this- Upon his enemies? Manf. Oh! no, no, no! My injuries came down on those who loved me On those whom I best loved: I never quell'd C. Hunt. Heaven give thee rest! Manf. I need them not, But can endure thy pity. I depart- A Cataract. Enter MANFRED. It is not noon-the sunbow's rays still arch the palm of his hand, and flings it in Manf. Beautiful Spirit! with thy hair And dazzling eyes of glory, in whose form ters grow To an unearthly stature, in an essence Upon the lofty glacier's virgin snow, Tinge thy celestial aspect, and make tame o'er thee. Beautiful Spirit! in thy calm clear brow, I read that thou wilt pardon to a Son Witch. Son of Earth! I know thee and the powers which give I know thee, for a man of many thoughts, I have expected this-what wouldst thou Manf. To look upon thy beauty-nothing further. The face of the earth hath madden'd me, and I Take refuge in her mysteries, and pierce To the abodes of those who govern herthey can nothing aid me. I have sought No words-it is thy due.-Follow me not-But And once again, I charge thee, follow not! From them what they could not bestow, and now I search no further. Made me a stranger; though I wore the form, I had no sympathy with breathing flesh, Nor midst the creatures of clay that girded me Was there but one who--but of her anon. I said, with men, and with the thoughts of men, 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. The stars and their development; or catch The dazzling lightnings till my eyes grew dim; Or to look, list'ning, on the scattered leaves, While Autumn-winds were at their eveningsong. These were my pastimes, and to be alone; Conclusions most forbidden. Then I pass'd Eros and Anteros, at Gadara, As I do thee;—and with my knowledge grew Manf. Oh! I but thus prolong'd my words, Boasting these idle attributes, because As I approach the core of my heart's griefBut 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. Manf. She was like me in lineaments— her eyes, Her hair, her features, all, to the very tone Even of her voice, they said were like to mine; But soften'd all, and temper'd into beauty; She had the same lone thoughts and wanderings, The quest of hidden knowledge, and a mind Pity, and smiles, and tears-which I had not; own I loved her, and destroy'd her! Manf. Not with my hand, but heartwhich broke her heart It gazed on mine, and wither'd. I have shed Blood, but not hers-and yet her blood was shed I saw-and could not staunch it. A being of the race thou dost despise, The order which thine own would rise above, Mingling with us and ours, thou dost forego The gifts of our great knowledge, and shrink'st back To recreant mortality-Away! Manf. Daughter of Air! I tell thee, since that hour But words are breath-look on me in my sleep, Or watch my watchings-Come and sit by me! In phantasy, imagination, all The affluence of my soul which one day was That I can aid thee. Manf. To do this thy power Must wake the dead, or lay me low with them. Witch. That is not in my province; but Wilt swear obedience to my will, and do Whose presence 1 command, and be the slave If I had never lived, that which I love SCENE III-The Summit of the Jungfrau- Enter FIRST DESTINY. The moon is rising broad, and round, and And here on snows, where never human foot Hast thou no gentler answer?—Yet bethink The aspect of a tumbling tempest's foam, thee, And panse ere thou rejectest. Manf. I have said it. Witch. Enough!-I may retire then-say! Manf. Retire! [The Witch disappears. Manf. (alone.) We are the fools of time and terror: Days Steal on us and steal from us; yet we live, Or joy that ends in agony or faintness - Forbears to pant for death, and yet draws As from a stream in winter, though the chill slew, And died unpardon'd though he call'd in aid Frozen in a moment-a dead whirlpool's A Voice without, singing. The Captive Usurper, Hurl'd down from the throne, Forgotten and lone; I broke through his slumbers, I leagued him with numbers- With the blood of a million he'll answer With a nation's destruction-his flight and Second Voice, without. |