manfred, a dramatic poem - lord byron.doc

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MANFRED, A DRAMATIC POEM -

LORD BYRON (GEORGE GORDON)

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Manfred is a dramatic poem written in 1816–1817 by Lord Byron. It contains supernatural elements, in

keeping with the popularity o the ghost story in !ngland at the time. It is a typical e"ample o a #omantic

closet drama. $anred was adapted musically by #obert %chumann in 18&', in a composition entitled

$anred( )ramatic *oem with music in +hree *arts, and later by *yotr +chaikosky in his $anred

%ymphony, -p. &8, as well as by arl #einecke. /riedrich 0ietsche was impressed by the poem2s

depiction o a super3human being, and wrote some music or it.

OJO: No conserva a es!r"c!"ra #e $oe%a ($&r#'#a #e or%a!o a co$'ra$e*ar)

'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'



DRAMAT! "#R!$%A# MA%&R#D HAM$! H(%T#R A))$T $& !T. MA(R# MA%(#* H#RMA%

+TH $& TH# A*"! ARMA%#! %#M#!! TH# D#!T%#! !"RT!, etc The scene of the Drama is

amongst the Higher Alps partly in the astle of Manfred, and partly in the Mountains. AT !#%#

MA%&R#D alone. !cene, a -othic -allery. Time, Midnight. MA%&R#D. The lamp must e

replenish'd, ut even then t will not urn so long as must watch. My slumers if slumer are not

sleep, )ut a continuance of enduring thought, +hich then can resist not/ in my heart There is a vigil, and

these eyes ut close To look within0 and yet live, and ear The aspect and the form of reathing men.

)ut grief should e the instructor of the wise0 !orrow is knowledge/ they who know the most 12 Must

mourn the deepest o'er the fatal truth, The Tree of 3nowledge is not that of *ife. "hilosophy and science,

and the springs $f wonder, and the wisdom of the world, have essay'd, and in my mind there is A power

to make these su4ect to itself )ut they avail not/ have done men good, And have met with good even

among men )ut this avail'd not/ have had my foes, And none have affled, many fallen efore me 52

)ut this avail'd not/ -ood, or evil, life, "owers, passions, all see in other eings, Have een to me as

rain unto the sands, !ince that allnameless hour. have no dread, And feel the curse to have no natural

fear %or fluttering thro, that eats with hopes or wishes $r lurking love of something on the earth. %ow to

my task. Mysterious Agency6 7e spirits of the unounded (niverse, +hom have sought in darkness

and in light6 82 7e, who do compass earth aout, and dwell n sutler essence6 ye, to whom the tops $f

mountains inaccessile are haunts, And earth's and ocean's caves familiar things call upon ye y the

written charm +hich gives me power upon you Rise6 appear6 9A pause. They come not yet. %ow y the

voice of him +ho is the first among you0 y this sign, +hich makes you tremle0 y the claims of him +ho

is undying, Rise6 appear6 Appear6 9A pause. :2 f it e so. !pirits of earth and air, 7e shall not thus

elude me/ y a power, Deeper than all yet urged, a tyrantspell, +hich had its irthplace in a star

condemn'd, The urning wreck of a demolish'd world, A wandering hell in the eternal space0 )y the strong

curse which is upon my soul, The thought which is within me and around me, do compel ye to my will.

Appear6 9A star is seen at the darker end of the gallery/ it is stationary0 and a voice is heard singing.

&R!T !"RT. Mortal6 to thy idding ow'd, ;2 &rom my mansion in the cloud, +hich the reath of

twilight uilds, And the summer's sunset gilds +ith the a<ure and vermilion +hich is mi='d for my pavilion0

Though thy >uest may e foridden, $n a staream have ridden, To thine ad4uration ow'd0 Mortal e



thy wish avow'd6 ?oice of the !#$%D !"RT. Mont )lanc is the monarch of mountains0 @2 They

crown'd him long ago $n a throne of rocks, in a roe of clouds, +ith a diadem of snow. Around his waist

are forests raced, The Avalanche in his hand0 )ut ere it fall, that thundering all Must pause for my

command. The -lacier's cold and restless mass Moves onward day y day0 )ut am he who ids it pass,

2 $r with its ice delay. am the spirit of the place, ould make the mountain ow And >uiver to his

cavern'd ase And what with me wouldst ThouB ?oice of the THRD !"RT. n the lue depth of the

waters, +here the wave hath no strife, +here the wind is a stranger And the seasnake hath life, +here

the Mermaid is decking C2 Her green hair with shells0 *ike the storm on the surface ame the sound of

thy spells0 $'er my calm Hall of oral The deep echo roll'd To the !pirit of $cean Thy wishes unfold6

&$(RTH !"RT. +here the slumering earth>uake *ies pillow'd on fire, And the lakes of itumen 2

Rise oilingly higher0 +here the roots of the Andes !trike deep in the earth, As their summits to heaven

!hoot soaringly forth0 have >uitted my irthplace, Thy idding to ide Thy spell hath sudued me, Thy

will e my guide6 &&TH !"RT. am the Rider of the wind, 122 The !tirrer of the storm0 The hurricane

left ehind s yet with lightning warm0 To speed to thee, o'er shore and sea swept upon the last/ The

fleet met sail'd well, and yet 'T will sink ere night e past. !ETH !"RT. My dwelling is the shadow of

the night, +hy doth thy magic torture me with lightB !#?#%TH !"RT The star which rules thy destiny

112 +as ruled, ere earth egan, y me/ t was a world as fresh and fair As e'er revolved round sun in air0

ts course was free and regular, !pace osom'd not a lovelier star. The hour arrived and it ecame A

wandering mass of shapeless flame, A pathless comet, and a curse, The menace of the universe0 !till

rolling on with innate force, 152 +ithout a sphere, without a course, A right deformity on high, The

monster of the upper sky6 And thou6 eneath its influence orn Thou worm6 whom oey and scorn

&orced y a power Fwhich is not thine, And lent thee ut to make thee mineG &or this rief moment to

descend, +here these weak spirits round thee end And parley with a thing like thee 182 +hat wouldst

thou, hild of lay6 with meB The !#?#% !"RT! #arth, ocean, air, night, mountains, winds, thy star,

Are at thy eck and idding, hild of lay6 )efore thee at thy >uest their spirits are +hat wouldst thou

with us, son of mortals sayB MA%&R#D. &orgetfulness &R!T !"RT. $f what of whom and whyB

MA%&R#D. $f that which is within me0 read it there 7e know it, and cannot utter it. !"RT. +e can ut

give thee that which we possess/ Ask of us su4ects, sovereignty, the power 1:2 $'er earth, the whole, or



portion, or a sign +hich shall control the elements, whereof +e are the dominators, each and all, These

shall e thine. MA%&R#D. $livion, selfolivion an ye not wring from out the hidden realms 7e offer

so profusely what askB !"RT. t is not in our essence, in our skill0 )ut thou mayst die. MA%&R#D.

+ill death estow it on meB !"RT. +e are immortal, and do not forget0 +e are eternal0 and to us the

past 1;2 s, as the future, present. Art thou answeredB MA%&R#D. 7e mock me ut the power which

rought ye here Hath made you mine. !laves, scoff not at my will6 The mind, the spirit, the "romethean

spark, The lightning of my eing, is as right, "ervading, and fardarting as your own, And shall not yield

to yours, though coop'd in clay6 Answer, or will teach you what am. !"RT. +e answer as we answer'd0

our reply s even in thine own words. MA%&R#D. +hy say ye soB 1@2 !"RT. f, as thou say'st, thine

essence e as ours, +e have replied in telling thee, the thing Mortals call death hath nought to do with

us. MA%&R#D. then have call'd ye from your realms in vain0 7e cannot, or ye will not, aid me. !"RT.

!ay0 +hat we possess we offer0 it is thine/ )ethink ere thou dismiss us, ask again 3ingdom, and sway,

and strength, and length of days MA%&R#D. Accursd6 what have to do with daysB They are too long

already. Hence egone6 12 !"RT. 7et pause/ eing here, our will would do thee service0 )ethink

thee, is there then no other gift +hich we can make not worthless in thine eyesB MA%&R#D. %o, none/

yet stay one moment, ere we part would ehold ye face to face. hear 7our voices, sweet and

melancholy sounds, As music on the waters0 and see The steady aspect of a clear large star0 )ut

nothing more. Approach me as ye are, $r one, or all, in your accustom'd forms. 1C2 !"RT. +e have no

forms, eyond the elements $f which we are the mind and principle/ )ut choose a form in that we will

appear. MA%&R#D. have no choice, there is no form on earth Hideous or eautiful to me. *et him, +ho

is most powerful of ye, take such aspect As unto him may seem most fitting. ome6 !eventh spirit

Fappearing in the shape of a eautiful female figureG. )ehold6 MA%&R#D. $h -od6 if it e thus, and thou

Art not a madness and a mockery yet might e most happy will clasp thee, 12 And we again will e

9The figure vanishes. My heart is crushed6 9MA%&R#D falls senseless. FA voice is heard in the ncantation

which follows.G +hen the moon is on the wave, And the glowworm in the grass, And the meteor on the

grave, And the wisp on the morass0 +hen the falling stars are shooting, And the answer'd owls are

hooting, And the silent leaves are still n the shadow of the hill, !hall my soul e upon thine, 522 +ith a

power and with a sign. Though thy slumer may e deep, 7et thy spirit shall not sleep0 There are shades



which will not vanish, There are thoughts thou canst not anish0 )y a power to thee unknown, Thou canst

never e alone0 Thou art wrapt as with a shroud, Thou art gather'd in a cloud0 And forever shalt thou dwell

512 n the spirit of this spell. Though thou seest me not pass y, Thou shalt feel me with thine eye As a

thing that, though unseen, Must e near thee, and hath een0 And when in that secret dread Thou hast

turn'd around thy head, Thou shalt marvel am not As thy shadow on the spot, And the power which thou

dost feel 552 !hall e what thou must conceal. And a magic voice and verse Hath apti<ed thee with a

curse0 And a spirit of the air Hath egirt thee with a snare0 n the wind there is a voice !hall forid thee to

re4oice0 And to thee shall %ight deny All the >uiet of her sky0 And the day shall have a sun, 582 +hich

shall make thee wish it done. &rom thy false tears did distil An essence which hath strength to kill0 &rom

thy own heart then did wring The lack lood in its lackest spring0 &rom thy own smile snatch'd the

snake, &or there it coil'd as in a rake0 &rom thy own lip drew the charm +hich gave all these their

chiefest harm0 n proving every poison known, 5:2 found the strongest was thine own. )y thy cold reast

and serpent smile, )y thy unfathom'd gulfs of guile, )y that most seeming virtuous eye, )y thy shut soul's

hypocrisy0 )y the perfection of thine art +hich pass'd for human thine own heart0 )y thy delight in others'

pain, And y thy rotherhood of ain, call upon thee6 and compel 5;2 Thyself to e thy proper Hell6 And

on thy head pour the vial +hich doth devote thee to this trial0 %or to slumer, nor to die, !hall e in thy

destiny0 Though thy death shall still seem near To thy wish, ut as a fear0 *o6 the spell now works around

thee, And the clankless chain hath ound thee0 $'er thy heart and rain together 5@2 Hath the word een

pass'd now wither6 !#%# The Mountain of the Iungfrau. Time, Morning. MA%&R#D alone upon

the liffs. MA%&R#D. The spirits have raised aandon me, The spells which have studied affled me,

The remedy reck'd of tortured me0 lean no more on superhuman aid, t hath no power upon the past,

and for The future, till the past e gulf'd in darkness, t is not of my search. My mother #arth6 And thou

fresh reaking Day, and you, ye Mountains, +hy are ye eautifulB cannot love ye. 52 And thou, the

right 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 e=treme edge stand, and on the torrent's rink eneath )ehold the tall

pines dwindled as to shrus n di<<iness of distance0 when a leap, A stir, a motion, even a reath, would

ring My reast upon its rocky osom's ed To rest forever wherefore do pauseB 5C2 feel the

impulseyet do not plunge0 see the peril yet do not recede0 And my rain reels and yet my foot is



firm. There is a power upon me which withholds, And makes it my fatality to live0 f it e life to wear within

myself This arrenness of spirit, and to e My own soul's sepulchre, for have ceased To 4ustify my deeds

unto myself The last infirmity of evil. Ay, 52 Thou winged and cloudcleaving minister, 9An eagle

passes. +hose happy flight is highest into heaven, +ell may'st thou swoop so near me should e Thy

prey, and gorge thine eaglets0 thou art gone +here the eye cannot follow thee0 ut thine 7et pierces

downward, onward, or aove, +ith a pervading vision. )eautiful6 How eautiful is all this visile world6

How glorious in its action and itself6 )ut we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we, 822 Half dust, half

deity, alike unfit To sink or soar, with our mi='d essence make A conflict of its elements, and reathe The

reath of degradation and of pride, ontending 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. Hark6 the

note, 9The !hepherd's pipe in the distance is heard. The natural music of the mountain reed F&or here the

patriarchal days are not 812 A pastoral faleG pipes in the lieral air, Mi='d with the sweet ells of the

sauntering herd0 My soul would drink those echoes. $h, that were The viewless spirit of a lovely

sound, A living voice, a reathing harmony, A odiless en4oyment orn and dying +ith the lessed tone

which made me6 #nter from elow a HAM$! H(%T#R. HAM$! H(%T#R. #ven so This way the

chamois leapt/ her nimle feet Have affled me0 my gains today will scarce Repay my reakneck travail.

+hat is hereB 852 +ho seems not of my trade, and yet hath reach'd A height which none even of our

mountaineers !ave our est hunters, may attain/ his gar s goodly, his mien manly, and his air "roud as

a freeorn peasant's, at this distance will approach him nearer. MA%&R#D Fnot perceiving the otherG.

To e thus -rayhair'd with anguish, like these lasted pines, +recks of a single winter, arkless,

ranchless, A lighted trunk upon a cursd root +hich ut supplies a feeling to decay 882 And to e

thus, eternally ut thus, Having een otherwise6 %ow furrowed o'er +ith wrinkles, plough'd y moments,

not y years And hours all tortured into ages hours +hich outlive6 7e toppling crags of ice6 7e

avalanches, whom a reath draws down n mountainous o'erwhelming, come and crush me6 hear ye

momently aove, eneath, rash with a fre>uent conflict, ut ye pass, And only fall on things that still

would live0 8:2 $n the young flourishing forest, or the hut And hamlet of the harmless villager. HAM$!

H(%T#R. The mists egin to rise from up the valley0 'll warn him to descend, or he may chance To lose

at once his way and life together. MA%&R#D. The mists oil up around the glaciers0 clouds Rise curling



fast eneath me, white and sulphury, *ike foam from the roused ocean of deep Hell, +hose every wave

reaks on a living shore Heap'd with the damn'd like peles. am giddy. 8;2 HAM$! H(%T#R.

must approach him cautiously0 if near A sudden step will startle him, and he !eems tottering already.

MA%&R#D. Mountains have fallen, *eaving a gap in the clouds, and with the shock Rocking their Alpine

rethren0 filling up The ripe green valleys with destruction's splinters0 Damming the rivers with a sudden

dash, +hich crush'd the waters into mist, and made Their fountains find another channel thus, Thus, in

its old age, did Mount Rosenerg 8@2 +hy stood not eneath itB HAM$! H(%T#R. &riend6 have a

care, 7our ne=t step may e fatal6 for the love $f him who made you, stand not on that rink6

MA%&R#D. Fnot hearing himG. !uch would have een for me a fitting tom0 My ones had then een

>uiet in their depth0 They had not then een strewn upon the rocks &or the wind's pastime as thus thus

they shall e n this one plunge. &arewell, ye opening heavens6 *ook not upon me thus reproachfully

7e were not meant for me #arth6 take these atoms6 82 9As MA%&R#D is in act to spring from the cliff,

the HAM$! H(%T#R sei<es and retains him with a sudden grasp. HAM$! H(%T#R. Hold,

madman6 though aweary of thy life, !tain not our pure vales with thy guilty lood6 Away with me will

not >uit my hold. MA%&R#D. am most sick at heart nay, grasp me not am all feeleness the

mountains whirl !pinning around me grow lind +hat art thouB HAM$! H(%T#R. 'll answer that

anon. Away with me6 The clouds grow thicker there now lean on me "lace your foot here here,

take this staff, and cling A moment to that shru now give me your hand, 8C2 And hold fast y my

girdle softly well The halet will e gain'd within an hour. ome on, we'll >uickly find a surer footing,

And something like a pathway, which the torrent Hath wash'd since winter. ome, 'tis ravely done0 7ou

should have een a hunter. &ollow me. 9As they descend the rocks with difficulty, the scene closes. AT

!#%# A ottage amongst the )ernese Alps. MA%&R#D and the HAM$! H(%T#R. HAM$!

H(%T#R. %o, no, yet pause, thou must not yet go forth/ Thy mind and ody are alike unfit To trust each

other, for some hours, at least0 +hen thou art etter, will e thy guide )ut whitherB MA%&R#D. t

imports not0 do know My route full well, and need no further guidance. HAM$! H(%T#R. Thy gar

and gait espeak thee of high lineage $ne of the many chiefs, whose castled crags *ook o'er the lower

valleys which of these May call thee *ordB only know their portals0 12 My way of life leads me ut

rarely down To ask y the huge hearths of those old halls, arousing with the vassals, ut the paths,



+hich step from out our mountains to their doors, know from childhood which of these is thineB

MA%&R#D. %o matter. HAM$! H(%T#R. +ell, sir, pardon me the >uestion, And e of etter cheer.

ome, taste my wine0 'Tis of an ancient vintage0 many a day 'T has thaw'd my veins among our glaciers,

now *et it do thus for thine. ome, pledge me fairly. 52 MA%&R#D. Away, away6 there's lood upon the

rim6 +ill it then never never sink in the earthB HAM$! H(%T#R. +hat dost thou meanB thy senses

wander from thee. MA%&R#D. say 't is lood my lood6 the pure warm stream +hich ran in the veins

of my fathers, and in ours +hen we were in our youth, and had one heart And loved each other as we

should not love, And this was shed/ ut still it rises up olouring the clouds, that shut me out from heaven

+here thou art not and shall never e. 82 HAM$! H(%T#R. Man of strange words, and some half

maddening sin +hich makes thee people vacancy, whate'er Thy dread and sufferance e, there's comfort

yet The aid of holy men, and heavenly patience MA%&R#D. "atience and patience6 Hence that word

was made &or rutes of urthen, not for irds of prey0 "reach it to mortals of a dust like thine, am not of

thine order. HAM$! H(%T#R. Thanks to heaven6 would not e of thine for the free fame $f +illiam

Tell0 ut whatsoe'er thine ill, :2 t must e orne, and these wild starts are useless. MA%&R#D. Do not

ear itB *ook on me live. HAM$! H(%T#R. This is convulsion, and no healthful life. MA%&R#D.

tell thee, man6 have lived many years, Many long years, ut they are nothing now To those which must

numer/ ages ages !pace and eternity and consciousness, +ith the fierce thirst of death and still

unslaked6 HAM$! H(%T#R. +hy, on thy row the seal of middle age Hath scarce een set0 am thine

elder far. ;2 MA%&R#D. Think'st thou e=istence doth depend on timeB t doth0 ut actions are our epochs/

mine Have made my days and nights imperishale #ndless, and all alike, as sands on the shore

nnumerale atoms0 and one desart )arren and cold, on which the wild waves reak, )ut nothing rests,

save carcases and wrecks, Rocks, and the saltsurf weeds of itterness. HAM$! H(%T#R. Alas6 he's

mad ut yet must not leave him. MA%&R#D. would were for then the things see @2 +ould e ut

a distemper'd dream. HAM$! H(%T#R. +hat is it That thou dost see, or think thou look'st uponB

MA%&R#D. Myself, and thee a peasant of the Alps Thy humle virtues, hospitale home And spirit

patient, pious, proud and free0 Thy selfrespect, grafted on innocent thoughts0 Thy days of health, and

nights of sleep0 thy toils )y danger dignified, yet guiltless0 hopes $f cheerful old age and a >uiet grave,

+ith cross and garland over its green turf, 2 And thy grandchildren's love for epitaph0 This do see and



then look within t matters not my soul was scorch'd already6 HAM$! H(%T#R. And would'st thou

then e=change thy lot for mineB MA%&R#D. %o, friend6 would not wrong thee, nor e=change My lot with

living eing/ can ear However wretchedly, 't is still to ear n life what others could not rook to

dream, )ut perish in their slumer. HAM$! H(%T#R. And with this This cautious feeling for another's

pain, C2 anst thou e lack with evilB say not so. an one of gentle thoughts have wreak'd revenge

(pon his enemiesB MA%&R#D. $h6 no, no, no6 My in4uries came down on those who loved me $n

those whom est loved/ never >uell'd An enemy, save in my 4ust defence )ut my emrace was fatal.

HAM$! H(%T#R. Heaven give thee rest6 And penitence restore thee to thyself0 My prayers shall e

for thee. MA%&R#D. need them not, )ut can endure thy pity. depart 2 'T is time farewell6 Here's

gold, and thanks for thee0 %o words it is thy due. &ollow me not0 know my path the mountain peril's

past/ And once again, charge thee, follow not6 9#=it MA%&R#D. !#%# A lower ?alley in the Alps. A

ataract. #nter MA%&R#D. t is not noon the sunow's rays still arch The torrent with the many hues of

heaven, And roll the sheeted silver's waving column $'er the crag's headlong perpendicular, And fling its

lines of foaming height along, And to and fro, like the pale courser's tall, 122 The -iant steed, to e

estrode y Death, As told in the Apocalypse. %o eyes )ut mine now drink this sight of loveliness0

should e sole in this sweet solitude, And with the !pirit of the place divide The homage of these waters.

will call her. 9MA%&R#D takes some of the water into the palm of his hand, and flings it in the air,

muttering the ad4uration. After a pause, the +TH $& TH# A*"! rises eneath the arch of the sunow

of the torrent. )eautiful !pirit6 with thy hair of light, And da<<ling eyes of glory, in whose form The charms

of #arth's least mortal daughters grow To an unearthly stature, in an essence 112 $f purer elements0

while the hues of youth Farnation'd like a sleeping infant's cheek Rock'd y the eating of her mother's

heart, $r the rose tints, which summer's twilight leaves (pon the lofty glacier's virgin snow, The lush of

earth emracing with her heavenG Tinge thy celestial aspect, and make tame The eauties of the sunow

which ends o'er thee. )eautiful !pirit6 in thy calm clear row, +herein is glass'd serenity of soul, 152

+hich of itself shows immortality, read that thou wilt pardon to a !on $f #arth, whom the astruser

powers permit At times to commune with them if that he Avail him of his spells to call thee thus, And

ga<e on thee a moment. +TH. !on of #arth6 know thee, and the powers which give thee power0

know thee for a man of many thoughts, And deeds of good and ill, e=treme in oth, &atal and fated in thy



sufferings. 182 have e=pected this what wouldst thou with meB MA%&R#D. To look upon thy eauty

nothing further. The face of the earth hath madden'd me, and Take refuge in her mysteries, and pierce

To the aodes of those who govern her )ut they can nothing aid me. have sought &rom them what

they could not estow, and now search no further. +TH. +hat could e the >uest +hich is not in the

power of the most powerful, The rulers of the invisileB MA%&R#D. A oon0 1:2 )ut why should repeat

itB 'twere in vain. +TH. know not that0 let thy lips utter it. MA%&R#D. +ell, though it torture me, 't is

ut the same0 My pang shall find a voice. &rom my youth upwards My spirit walk'd not with the souls of

men, %or look'd upon the earth with human eyes0 The thirst of their amition was not mine0 The aim of

their e=istence was not mine0 My 4oys, my griefs, my passions, and my powers, Made me a stranger0

though wore the form, 1;2 had no sympathy with reathing flesh, %or midst the creatures of clay that

girded me +as there ut one who ut of her anon. said with men, and with the thoughts of men, held

ut slight communion0 ut instead, My 4oy was in the +ilderness, to reathe The difficult air of the iced

mountain's top, +here the irds dare not uild, nor insect's wing &lit o'er the herless granite0 or to plunge

nto the torrent, and to roll along 1@2 $n the swift whirl of the new reaking wave $f riverstream, or

ocean, in their flow. n these my early strength e=ulted0 or To follow through the night the moving moon,

The stars and their development, or catch The da<<ling lightnings till my eyes grew dim0 $r to look,

list'ning, on the scatter'd leaves, +hile Autumn winds were at their evening song. These were my

pastimes, and to e alone0 &or if the eings, of whom was one, 12 Hating to e so, cross'd me in my

path, felt myself degraded ack to them, And was all clay again. And then dived, n my lone

wanderings, to the caves of death, !earching its cause in its effect, and drew &rom wither'd ones, and

skulls, and heap'd up dust, onclusions most foridden. Then pass'd The nights of years in sciences,

untaught !ave in the oldtime0 and with time and toil, And terrile ordeal, and such penance 1C2 As in

itself hath power upon the air And spirits that do compass air and earth, !pace, and the peopled infinite,

made Mine eyes familiar with #ternity, !uch as, efore me, did the Magi, and He who from out their

fountain dwellings raised #ros and Anteros, at -adara, As do thee, and with my knowledge grew The

thirst of knowledge, and the power and 4oy $f this most right intelligence, until 12 +TH. "roceed.

MA%&R#D. $h6 ut thus prolonged my words, )oasting these idle attriutes, ecause As approach the

core of my heart's grief )ut to my task. have not named to thee &ather or mother, mistress, friend, or



eing +ith whom wore the chain of human ties0 f had such, they seem'd not such to me 7et there

was one +TH. !pare not thyself proceed. MA%&R#D. !he was like me in lineaments her eyes Her

hair, her features, all, to the very tone 522 #ven of her voice, they said were like to mine0 )ut soften'd all,

and temper'd into eauty0 !he had the same lone thoughts and wanderings, The >uest of hidden

knowledge, and a mind To comprehend the universe/ nor these Alone, ut with them gentler powers than

mine, "ity, and smiles, and tears which had not0 And tenderness ut that had for her0 Humility and

that never had. Her faults were mine her virtues were her own 512 loved her, and destroy'd her6

+TH. +ith thy handB MA%&R#D. %ot with my hand, ut heart which roke her heart0 t ga<ed on

mine, and wither'd. have shed )lood, ut not hers and yet her lood was shed saw, and could not

stanch it. +TH. And for this A eing of the race thou dost despise, The order which thine own would

rise aove, Mingling with us and ours, thou dost forego The gifts of our great knowledge, and shrink'st

ack To recreant mortality Away6 552 MA%&R#D. Daughter of Air6 tell thee, since that hour )ut words

are reath look on me in my sleep, $r watch my watchings ome and sit y me6 My solitude is solitude

no more, )ut peopled with the &uries, have gnash'd My teeth in darkness till returning morn, Then

cursed myself till sunset0 have pray'd &or madness as a lessing 'tis denied me. have affronted

death ut in the war $f elements the waters shrunk from me, 582 And fatal things pass'd harmless the

cold hand $f an allpitiless demon held me ack, )ack y a single hair, which would not reak. n

fantasy, imagination, all The affluence of my soul which one day was A roesus in creation plunged

deep, )ut, like an eing wave, it dash'd me ack nto the gulf of my unfathom'd thought. plunged

amidst mankind &orgetfulness sought in all, save where 'tis to e found, 5:2 And that have to learn

my sciences, My long pursued and superhuman art, s mortal here0 dwell in my despair And live and

live for ever. +TH. t may e That can aid thee. MA%&R#D. To do this thy power Must wake the dead,

or lay me low with them. Do so in any shape in any hour +ith any torture so it e the last. +TH.

That is not in my province0 ut if thou +ilt swear oedience to my will, and do 5;2 My idding, it may help

thee to thy wishes. MA%&R#D. will not swear $ey6 and whomB the spirits +hose presence

command, and e the slave $f those who served me %ever6 +TH. s this allB Hast thou no gentler

answerB 7et ethink thee, And pause ere thou re4ectest. MA%&R#D. have said it. +TH. #nough6

may retire then say6 MA%&R#D. Retire6 9The +TH disappears. MA%&R#D FaloneG. +e are the fools



of time and terror/ Days !teal on us and steal from us0 yet we live, *oathing our life, and dreading still to

die. 5@2 n all the days of this detested yoke This vital weight upon the struggling heart, +hich sinks with

sorrow, or eats >uick with pain, $r 4oy that ends in agony or faintness n all the days of past and future,

for n life there is no present, we can numer How few, how less than few, wherein the soul &orears to

pant for death, and yet draws ack As from a stream in winter, though the chill )e ut a moment's. have

one resource 52 !till in my science can call the dead, And ask them what it is we dread to e/ The

sternest answer can ut e the -rave, And that is nothing if they answer not The uried "rophet

answered to the Hag $f #ndor0 and the !partan Monarch drew &rom the )y<antine 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 5C2 The "hy=ian Iove, and in "higalia roused The Arcadian

#vocators to compel The indignant shadow to depose her wrath, $r fi= her term of vengeance she

replied n words of duious import, ut fulfill'd. f had never lived, that which love Had still een living0

had never loved, That which love would still e eautiful Happy and giving happiness. +hat is sheB

+hat is she nowB a sufferer for my sins 52 A thing dare not think upon or nothing. +ithin few hours

shall not call in vain 7et in this hour dread the thing dare/ (ntil this hour never shrunk to ga<e $n

spirit, good or evilnow tremle, And feel a strange cold thaw upon my heart. )ut can act even what

most ahor, And champion human fears. The night approaches. 9#=it. !#%# The !ummit of the

Iungfrau Mountain. #nter &R!T D#!T%7. The moon is rising road, and round, and right0 And here on

snows, where never human foot 822 $f common mortal trod, we nightly tread, And leave no traces0 o'er

the savage sea, The glassy ocean of the mountain ice, +e skim its rugged reakers, which put on The

aspect of a tumling tempest's foam, &ro<en in a moment a dead whirlpool's image. And this most steep

fantastic pinnacle, The fretwork of some earth>uake where the clouds "ause to repose themselves in

passing y s sacred to our revels, or our vigils0 812 Here do wait my sisters, on our way To the Hall of

Arimanes, for tonight s our great festival 't is strange they come not. A ?oice without, singing. The

aptive (surper, Hurl'd down from the throne, *ay uried in torpor, &orgotten and lone0 roke through

his slumers, shiver'd his chain, leagued him with numers 852 He's Tyrant again6 +ith the lood of a

million he'll answer my care, +ith a nation's destruction his flight and despair. !econd ?oice, without.

The ship sail'd on, the ship sail'd fast, )ut left not a sail, and left not a mast0 There is not a plank of the



hull or the deck, And there is not a wretch to lament o'er his wreck0 !ave one, whom held, as he swam,

y the hair, And he was a su4ect well worthy my care0 A traitor on land, and a pirate at sea 882 )ut

saved him to wreak further havoc for me6 &R!T D#!T%7, answering. The city lies sleeping0 The morn,

to deplore it, May dawn on it weeping/ !ullenly, slowly, The lack plague flew o'er it Thousands lie lowly0

Tens of thousands shall perish The living shall fly from The sick they should cherish0 8:2 )ut nothing

can van>uish The touch that they die from. !orrow and anguish, And evil and dread, #nvelope a nation

The lest are the dead, +ho see not the sight $f their own desolation0 This work of a night This wreck of

a realm this deed of my doing 8;2 &or ages 've done, and shall still e renewing6 #nter the !#$%D

and THRD D#!T%#!. The Three. $ur hands contain the hearts of men, $ur footsteps are their graves/

+e only give to take again The spirits of our slaves6 &R!T D#!T%7. +elcome6 +here's %emesisB

!#$%D D#!T%7. At some great work0 )ut what know not, for my hands were full. THRD D#!T%7.

)ehold she cometh. #nter %#M#!!. &R!T D#!T%7. !ay, where hast thou eenB My sisters and

thyself are slow tonight. %#M#!!. l was detain'd repairing shattered thrones, 8@2 Marrying fools,

restoring dynasties, Avenging men upon their enemies, And making them repent their own revenge0

-oading the wise to madness, from the dull !haping out oracles to rule the world Afresh, for they were

wa=ing out of date, And mortals dared to ponder for themselves, To weigh kings in the alance, and to

speak $f freedom, the foridden fruit. Away6 +e have outstaid the hour mount we our clouds6 9#=eunt.

82 !#%# ? The Hall of ARMA%#!. ARMA%#! on his Throne, a -loe of &ire, surrounded y the

!"RT!. Hymn of the !"RT! Hail to our Master6 "rince of #arth and Air6 +ho walks the clouds and

waters in his hand The sceptre of the elements, which tear Themselves to chaos at his high command6

He reatheth and a tempest shakes the sea0 He speaketh and the clouds reply in thunder0 He ga<eth

from his glance the suneams flee0 He moveth earth>uakes rend the world asunder. )eneath his

footsteps the volcanoes rise0 His shadow is the "estilence0 his path 8C2 The comets herald through the

crackling skies0 And planets turn to ashes at his wrath. To him +ar offers daily sacrifice0 To him Death

pays his triute0 *ife is his, +ith all its infinite of agonies And his the spirit of whatever is6 #nter the

D#!T%#! and %#M#!!. &R!T D#!T%7. -lory to Arimanes6 on the earth His power increaseth oth

my sisters did His idding, nor did neglect my duty6 !#$%D D#!T%7. -lory to Arimanes6 we who ow

82 The necks of men, ow down efore his throne6 THRD D#!T%7. -lory to Arimanes6 we await His



nod6 %#M#!!. !overeign of !overeigns6 we are thine. And all that liveth, more or less, is ours, And most

things wholly so0 still to increase $ur power, increasing thine, demands our care, And we are vigilant

Thy late commands Have een fulfill'd to the utmost. #nter MA%&R#D. A !"RT. +hat is hereB A

mortal6 Thou most rash and fatal wretch, )ow down and worship6 !#$%D !"RT. do know the man

:22 A Magian of great power, and fearful skill6 THRD !"RT. )ow down and worship, slave6 +hat,

know'st thou not Thine and our !overeignB Tremle, and oey6 A** TH# !"RT!. "rostrate thyself,

and thy condemnd clay, hild of the #arth6 or dread the worst. MA%&R#D. know it0 And yet ye see

kneel not. &$(RTH !"RT. 'T will e taught thee. MA%&R#D. 'Tis taught already, many a night on the

earth, $n the are ground, have ow'd down my face, And strew'd my head with ashes0 have known

The fulness of humiliation, for :12 sunk efore my vain despair, and knelt To my own desolation. &&TH

!"RT. Dost thou dare Refuse to Arimanes on his throne +hat the whole earth accords, eholding not

The terror of his -lory rouch6 say. MA%&R#D. )id him ow down to that which is aove him, The

overruling nfinite the Maker +ho made him not for worship let him kneel, And we will kneel together.

TH# !"RT!. rush the worm6 Tear him in pieces6 &R!T D#!T%7. Hence6 Avaunt6 he's mine. :52

"rince of the "owers invisile6 This man s of no common order, as his port And presence here denote.

His sufferings Have een of an immortal nature, like $ur own0 his knowledge and his powers and will, As

far as is compatile with clay, +hich clogs the ethereal essence, have een such As clay hath seldom

orne0 his aspirations Have een eyond the dwellers of the earth, And they have only taught him what

we know :82 That knowledge is not happiness, and science )ut an e=change of ignorance for that

+hich is another kind of ignorance. This is not all0 the passions, attriutes $f earth and heaven, from

which no power, nor eing, %or reath from the worm upwards is e=empt, Have pierced his heart0 and in

their conse>uence Made him a thing, which , who pity not, 7et pardon those who pity. He is mine, And

thine, it may e e it so, or not, ::2 %o other !pirit in this region hath A soul like his or power upon his

soul. %#M#!!. +hat doth he here thenB &R!T D#!T%7. *et him answer that. MA%&R#D. 7e know

what have known0 and without power could not e amongst ye/ ut there are "owers deeper still

eyond come in >uest $f such, to answer unto what seek. %#M#!!. +hat wouldst thouB

MA%&R#D. Thou canst not reply to me. all up the dead my >uestion is for them. %#M#!!. -reat

Arimanes, doth thy will avouch :;2 The wishes of this mortalB ARMA%#!. 7ea. %#M#!!. +hom



wouldst thou (ncharnelB MA%&R#D. $ne without a tom call up Astarte. %#M#!! !hadow6 or !pirit6

+hatever thou art, +hich still doth inherit The whole or a part $f the form of thy irth, $f the mould of thy

clay +hich returned to the earth, :@2 Reappear to the day6 )ear what thou orest, The heart and the

form, And the aspect thou worest Redeem from the worm. Appear6 Appear6 Appear6 +ho sent thee

there re>uires thee here6 9The "hantom of A!TART# rises and stands in the midst. MA%&R#D. an this

e deathB there's loom upon her cheek0 )ut now see it is no living hue, )ut a strange hectic like the

unnatural red :2 +hich Autumn plants upon the perish'd leaf. t is the same6 $h, -od6 that should

dread To look upon the same Astarte6 %o, cannot speak to her ut id her speak &orgive me or

condemn me. %#M#!! )y the power which hath roken The grave which enthrall'd thee, !peak to him

who hath spoken, $r those who have call'd thee6 MA%&R#D. !he is silent, And in that silence am more

than answer'd. :C2 %#M#!!. My power e=tends no further. "rince of air6 t rests with thee alone

command her voice. ARMA%#!. !pirit oey this sceptre6 %#M#!!. !ilent still6 !he is not of our order,

ut elongs To the other powers. Mortal6 thy >uest is vain, And we are affled also. MA%&R#D. Hear me,

hear me Astarte6 my elovd6 speak to me0 have so much endured so much endure *ook on me6

the grave hath not changed thee more Than am changed for thee. Thou lovdst me :2 Too much, as

loved thee/ we were not made To torture thus each other, though it were The deadliest sin to love as we

have loved. !ay that thou loath'st me not that do ear This punishment for oththat thou wilt e $ne

of the lessd and that shall die0 &or hitherto all hateful things conspire To ind me in e=istence in a

life +hich makes me shrink from immortality A future like the past. cannot rest. ;22 know not what

ask, nor what seek/ feel ut what thou art and what am0 And would hear yet once efore perish

The voice which was my music !peak to me6 &or have call'd on thee in the still night, !tartled the

slumering irds from the hush'd oughs, And woke the mountain wolves, and made the caves

Ac>uainted with thy vainly echo'd name, +hich answer'd me many things answer'd me !pirits and

men ut thou wert silent all. ;12 7et speak to me6 have outwatch'd the stars, And ga<ed o'er heaven in

vain in search of thee. !peak to me6 have wander'd o'er the earth, And never found thy likeness !peak

to me6 *ook on the fiends around they feel for me/ fear them not, and feel for thee alone. !peak to me6

though it e in wrath0 ut say reck not what ut let me hear thee once This once once more6

"HA%T$M $& A!TART#. Manfred6 MA%&R#D. !ay on, say on live ut in the soundit is thy voice6



;52 "HA%T$M. Manfred6 Tomorrow ends thine earthly ills. &arewell6 MA%&R#D. 7et one word more

am forgivenB "HA%T$M. &arewell6 MA%&R#D. !ay, shall we meet againB "HA%T$M. &arewell6

MA%&R#D. $ne word for mercy6 !ay, thou lovest me. "HA%T$M. Manfred6 9The !pirit of A!TART#

departs. %#M#!!. !he's gone, and will not e recall'd0 Her words will e fulfill'd. Return to the earth. A

!"RT. He is convulsed This is to e a mortal And seek the things eyond mortality. A%$TH#R !"RT.

7et, see, he mastereth himself, and makes His torture triutary to his will. ;82 Had he een one of us, he

would have made An awful spirit. %#M#!!. Hast thou further >uestion $f our great sovereign, or his

worshippersB MA%&R#D. %one. %#M#!!. Then for a time farewell. MA%&R#D. +e meet then6 +hereB

$n the earthB #ven as thou wilt/ and for the grace accorded now depart a detor. &are ye well6 9#=it

MA%&R#D. F!cene closesG. AT !#%# A Hall in the astle of Manfred. MA%&R#D and H#RMA%.

MA%&R#D. +hat is the hourB H#RMA%. t wants ut one till sunset, And promises a lovely twilight.

MA%&R#D. !ay, Are all things so disposed of in the tower As directedB H#RMA%. All, my lord, are

ready0 Here is the key and casket. MA%&R#D. t is well/ Thou mayst retire. 9#=it H#RMA%. MA%&R#D

FaloneG. There is a calm upon me ne=plicale stillness6 which till now Did not elong to what knew of

life. f that did not know philosophy To e of all our vanities the motliest, 12 The merest word that ever

fool'd the ear &rom out the schoolman's 4argon, should deem The golden secret, the sought '3alon,'

found, And seated in my soul. t will not last, )ut it is well to have known it, though ut once/ t hath

enlarged my thoughts with a new sense, And within my talets would note down That there is such a

feeling. +ho is thereB Reenter H#RMA%. H#RMA%. My lord, the aot of !t. Maurice craves To greet

your presence. #nter the A))$T $& !T. MA(R#. A))$T. "eace e with ount Manfred6 52

MA%&R#D. Thanks, holy father6 welcome to these walls0 Thy presence honours them, and lesseth those

+ho dwell within them. A))$T. +ould it were so, ount6 )ut would fain confer with thee alone.

MA%&R#D. Herman, retire. +hat would my reverend guestB A))$T. Thus, without prelude/ Age and

<eal, my office, And good intent, must plead my privilege0 $ur near, though not ac>uainted

neighourhood, May also e my herald. Rumours strange, And of unholy nature, are aroad, 82 And usy

with thy name0 a nole name &or centuries/ may he who ears it now Transmit it unimpair'd6 MA%&R#D.

"roceed, listen. A))$T 'T is said thou holdest converse with the things +hich are foridden to the

search of man0 That with the dwellers of the dark aodes, The many evil and unheavenly spirits +hich



walk the valley of the shade of death, Thou communest. know that with mankind, Thy fellows in creation,

thou dost rarely :2 #=change thy thoughts, and that thy solitude s as an anchorite's, were it ut holy.

MA%&R#D. And what are they who do avouch these thingsB A))$T. My pious rethren, the scared

peasantry, #ven thy own vassals, who do look on thee +ith most un>uiet eyes. Thy life's in peril.

MA%&R#D. Take it. A))$T. come to save, and not destroy. would not pry into thy secret soul0 )ut if

these things e sooth, there still is time &or penitence and pity/ reconcile thee ;2 +ith the true church,

and through the church to heaven. MA%&R#D. hear thee. This is my reply, whate'er may have een, or

am, doth rest etween Heaven and myself0 shall not choose a mortal To e my mediator. Have sinn'd

Against your ordinancesB prove and punish6 A))$T. My son6 did not speak of punishment, )ut

penitence and pardon0 with thyself The choice of such remains and for the last, $ur institutions and our

strong elief @2 Have given me power to smooth the path from sin To higher hope and etter thoughts,

the first leave to heaven '?engeance is mine alone6' !o saith the *ord, and with all humleness His

servant echoes ack the awful word. MA%&R#D. $ld man6 there is no power in holy men, %or charm in

prayer, nor purifying form $f penitence, nor outward look, nor fast, %or agony, nor, greater than all these,

The innate tortures of that deep despair 2 +hich is remorse without the fear of hell )ut all in all sufficient

to itself +ould make a hell of heaven, can e=orcise &rom out the unounded spirit, the >uick sense $f

its own sins, wrongs, sufferance, and revenge (pon itself0 there is no future pang an deal that 4ustice on

the selfcondemn'd He deals on his own soul. A))$T. All this is well0 &or this will pass away, and e

succeeded )y an auspicious hope, which shall look up C2 +ith calm assurance to that lessed place

+hich all who seek may win, whatever e Their earthly errors, so they e atoned/ And the

commencement of atonement is The sense of its necessity. !ay on And all our church can teach thee

shall e taught0 And all we can asolve thee, shall e pardon'd. MA%&R#D. +hen Rome's si=th #mperor

was near his last, The victim of a selfinflicted wound, To shun the torments of a pulic death 2 &rom

senates once his slaves, a certain soldier, +ith show of loyal pity, would have staunch'd The gushing

throat with his officious roe0 The dying Roman thrust him ack and said !ome empire still in his

e=piring glance 't is too late is this fidelityB' A))$T. And what of thisB MA%&R#D. answer with the

Roman 't is too late6' A))$T. t never can e so, To reconcile thyself with thy own soul, And thy own

soul with heaven. Hast thou no hopeB 122 'Tis strange even those who do despair aove, 7et shape



themselves some phantasy on earth, To which frail twig they cling, like drowning men. MA%&R#D. Ay

father6 have had those earthly visions And nole aspirations in my youth, To make my own the mind of

other men, The enlightener of nations0 and to rise knew not whither it might e to fall0 )ut fall, even as

the mountaincataract, +hich having leapt from its more da<<ling height, 112 #ven in the foaming

strength of its ayss F+hich casts up misty columns that ecome louds raining from the reascended

skiesG *ies low ut mighty still. )ut this is past, My thoughts mistook themselves. A))$T. And wherefore

soB MA%&R#D. could not tame my nature down0 for he Must serve who fain would sway and soothe,

and sue, And watch all time, and pry into all place, And e a living lie, who would ecome A mighty thing

amongst the mean, and such 152 The mass are0 disdain'd to mingle with A herd, though to e leader

and of wolves. The lion is alone, and so am . A))$T. And why not live and act with other menB

MA%&R#D. )ecause my nature was averse from life0 And yet not cruel0 for would not make, )ut find a

desolation. *ike the wind, The redhot reath of the most lone !imoom, +hich dwells ut in the desert,

and sweeps o'er The arren sands which ear no shrus to last 182 And revels o'er their wild and arid

waves, And seeketh not, so that it is not sought, )ut eing met is deadly, such hath een The course of

my e=istence0 ut there came Things in my path which are no more. A))$T. Alas6 'gin to fear that thou

art past all aid &rom me and from my calling0 yet so young, still would MA%&R#D. *ook on me6 there is

an order $f mortals on the earth, who do ecome $ld in their youth, and die ere middle age, 1:2 +ithout

the violence of warlike death0 !ome perishing of pleasure, some of study, !ome worn with toil, some of

mere weariness, !ome of disease, and some insanity, And some of wither'd or of roken hearts0 &or this

last is a malady which slays More than are numer'd in the lists of &ate, Taking all shapes, and earing

many names. *ook upon me6 for even of all these things Have partaken0 and of all these things, 1;2

$ne were enough0 then wonder not that Am what am, ut that ever was, $r, having een, that am

still on earth. A))$T. 7et, hear me still MA%&R#D. $ld man6 do respect Thine order, and revere thine

years0 deem Thy purpose pious, ut it is in vain. Think me not churlish0 would spare thyself, &ar more

than me, in shunning at this time All further collo>uy0 and so farewell. 9#=it MA%&R#D. A))$T. This

should have een a nole creature/ he 1@2 Hath all the energy which would have made A goodly frame of

glorious elements, Had they een wisely mingled0 as it is, t is an awful chaos light and darkness, And

mind and dust and passions and pure thoughts, Mi='d, and contending without end or order, All dormant



or destructive. He will perish, And yet he must not0 will try once more, &or such are worth redemption0

and my duty s to dare all things for a righteous end. 12 'll follow him ut cautiously, though surely.

9#=it A))$T. !#%# Another hamer. MA%&R#D and H#RMA%. H#RMA%. My *ord, you ade me

wait on you at sunset/ He sinks eyond the mountain. MA%&R#D. Doth he soB will look on him.

9MA%&R#D advances to the +indow of the Hall. -lorious $r6 the idol $f early nature, and the vigorous

race $f undiseased mankind the giant sons $f the emrace of angels, with a se= More eautiful than

they, which did draw down The erring spirits who can ne'er return0 Most glorious or6 that wert a worship,

ere 1C2 The mystery of thy making was reveal'd6 Thou earliest minister of the Almighty, +hich gladden'd,

on their mountain tops, the hearts $f the haldean shepherds, till they pour'd Themselves in orisons6

Thou material -od6 And representative of the (nknown, +ho chose thee for his shadow6 Thou chief star6

entre of many stars6 which mak'st our earth #ndurale, and temperest the hues And hearts of all who

walk within thy rays6 12 !ire of the seasons6 Monarch of the climes And those who dwell in them6 for

near or far $ur inorn spirits have a tint of thee, #ven as our outward aspects0 thou dost rise, And shine,

and set in glory. &are thee well6 ne'er shall see thee more. As my first glance $f love and wonder was for

thee, then take My latest look/ thou wilt not eam on one To whom the gifts of life and warmth have een

$f a more fatal nature. He is gone0 522 follow. 9#=it MA%&R#D. !#%# The Mountains. The astle

of MA%&R#D at some distance. A Terrace efore a Tower. Time, Twilight. H#RMA%, MA%(#*, and

other Dependants of MA%&R#D. H#RMA%. 'T is strange enough0 night after night, for years, He hath

pursued long vigils in this tower, +ithout a witness. have een within it, !o have we all een ofttimes0

ut from it $r its contents, it were impossile To draw conclusions asolute of aught His studies tend to.

To e sure, there is $ne chamer where none enter/ would give The fee of what have to come these

three years 512 To pore upon its mysteries. MA%(#*. 'T were dangerous0 ontent thyself with what thou

know'st already. H#RMA%. Ah6 Manuel6 thou art elderly and wise, And could'st say much0 thou hast dwelt

within the castle How many years is'tB MA%(#*. #re ount Manfred's irth, served his father, whom

he nought resemles. H#RMA%. There e more sons in like predicament. )ut wherein do they differB

MA%(#*. speak not $f features or of form, ut mind and haits0 ount !igismund was proud, ut gay

and free 552 A warrior and a reveller0 he dwelt not +ith ooks and solitude, nor made the night A

gloomy vigil, ut a festal time, Merrier than day0 he did not walk the rocks And forests like a wolf, nor turn



growth0 )ut the gladiators' loody ircus stands, A nole wreck in ruinous perfection6 +hile aesar's

chamers, and the Augustan halls -rovel on earth in indistinct decay. 52 And thou didst shine, thou

rolling moon, upon All this, and cast a wide and tender light, +hich soften'd down the hoar austerity $f

rugged desolation, and fill'd up, As 'twere anew, the gaps of centuries0 *eaving that eautiful which still

was so, And making that which was not, till the place )ecame religion, and the heart ran o'er +ith silent

worship of the great of old, The dead, ut sceptred sovereigns, who still rule 822 $ur spirits from their

urns. 'T was such a night6 'T is strange that recall it at this time0 )ut have found our thoughts take

wildest flight #ven at the moment when they should array Themselves in pensive order. #nter the A))$T.

A))$T. My good *ord6 crave a second grace for this approach0 )ut yet let not my humle <eal offend )y

its aruptness all it hath of ill Recoils on me0 its good in the effect May light upon your head could say

heart 812 ould touch that, with words or prayers, should Recall a nole spirit which hath wander'd

)ut is not yet all lost. MA%&R#D. Thou know'st me not0 My days are numer'd, and my deeds recorded/

Retire, or 't will e dangerous Away6 A))$T. Thou dost not mean to menace meB MA%&R#D. %ot 0

simply tell thee peril is at hand, And would preserve thee. A))$T. +hat dost thou meanB MA%&R#D.

*ook there6 +hat dost thou seeB A))$T. %othing. MA%&R#D. *ook there, say, And steadfastly0 now

tell me what thou seestB 852 A))$T. That which should shake me ut fear it not0 see a dusk and

awful figure rise, *ike an infernal god from out the earth0 His face wrapt in a mantle, and his form Roed

as with angry clouds/ he stands etween Thyself and me ut do fear him not. MA%&R#D. Thou hast no

cause0 he shall not harm thee, ut His sight may shock thine old lims into palsy. say to thee Retire6

A))$T. And, reply, %ever till have attled with this fiend/ 882 +hat doth he hereB MA%&R#D.

+hy ay what doth he hereB did not send for him, he is unidden. A))$T. Alas6 lost mortal6 what

with guests like these Hast thou to doB tremle for thy sake/ +hy doth he ga<e on thee, and thou on

himB Ah6 he unveils his aspect0 on his row The thunderscars are graven0 from his eye -lares forth the

immortality of hell Avaunt6 MA%&R#D. "ronounce what is thy missionB !"RT. ome6 A))$T. +hat

art thou, unknown eingB answer6 speak6 8:2 !"RT. The genius of this mortal. ome6 't is time.

MA%&R#D. am prepared for all things, ut deny The power which summons me. +ho sent thee hereB

!"RT. Thou'lt know anon ome6 ome6 MA%&R#D. have commanded Things of an essence greater

far than thine, And striven with thy masters. -et thee hence6 !"RT. Mortal6 thine hour is come Away6



say. MA%&R#D. knew, and know my hour is come, ut not To render up my soul to such as thee/ Away6

'll die as have lived alone. 8;2 !"RT. Then must summon up my rethren. Rise6 9$ther spirits rise

up. A))$T. Avaunt6 ye evil ones6 Avaunt6 say, 7e have no power where piety hath power, And do

charge ye in the name !"RT. $ld man6 +e know ourselves, our mission, and thine order0 +aste not

thy holy words on idle uses, t were in vain0 this man is forfeited. $nce more summon him Away6 away6

MA%&R#D. do defy ye, though feel my soul s eing from me, yet do defy ye0 8@2 %or will hence,

while have earthly reath To reathe my scorn upon ye earthly strength To wrestle, though with spirits0

what ye take !hall e ta'en lim y lim. !"RT. Reluctant mortal6 s this the Magian who would so

pervade The world invisile, and make himself Almost our e>ualB an it e that thou Art thus in love with

lifeB the very life +hich made thee wretched6 MA%&R#D. Thou false fiend, thou liest6 My life is in its last

hour, that know, 82 %or would redeem a moment of that hour. do not comat against death, ut thee

And thy surrounding angels0 my past power +as purchased y no compact with thy crew, )ut y superior

science penance daring, And length of watching strength of mind and skill n knowledge of our

fathers when the earth !aw men and spirits walking side y side And gave ye no supremacy/ stand

(pon my strength do defy deny 8C2 !purn ack, and scorn ye6 !"RT. )ut thy many crimes Have

made thee MA%&R#D. +hat are they to such as theeB Must crimes e punish'd ut y other crimes,

And greater criminalsB )ack to thy hell6 Thou hast no power upon me, that feel0 Thou never shalt

possess me, that know/ +hat have done is done0 ear within A torture which could nothing gain from

thine. The mind which is immortal makes itself Re>uital for its good or evil thoughts, 82 s its own origin

of ill and end, And its own place and time0 its innate sense, +hen stripp'd of this mortality, derives %o

colour from the fleeting things without, )ut is asor'd in sufferance or in 4oy, )orn from the knowledge of

its own desert. Thou didst not tempt me, and thou couldst not tempt me0 have not een thy dupe nor am

thy prey, )ut was my own destroyer, and will e My own hereafter. )ack, ye affled fiends6 :22 The

hand of death is on me ut not yours6 9The Demons disappear. A))$T. Alas6 how pale thou art thy lips

are white And thy reast heaves and in thy gasping throat The accents rattle. -ive thy prayers to

Heaven "ray aleit ut in thought, ut die not thus. MA%&R#D. 'T is over my dull eyes can fi= thee

not0 )ut all things swim around me, and the earth Heaves as it were eneath me. &are thee well -ive

me thy hand. A))$T. old cold even to the heart )ut yet one prayer Alas6 how fares it with theeB



:12 MA%&R#D. $ld man6 't is not so difficult to die. 9MA%&R#D e=pires. A))$T. He's gone, his soul hath

ta'en its earthless flight0 +hitherB dread to think0 ut he is gone.

manfred, a dramatic poem - lord byron.doc

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