THE HAND OF DEATH IS ON ME BUT NOT YOURS!

Act 3.

PUBLISHEL BY JOHN MURRAY ALBEMARLE STREET, DET L1819.

MAN. 'Tis over-my dull eyes can fix thee not; But all things swim around me, and the earth Heaves as it were beneath me. Fare thee wellGive me thy hand.

Аввот.

Cold-cold-even to the heart

But yet one prayer-alas! how fares it with thee?— MAN. Old man! 'tis not so difficult to die.

[MANFRED expires.

ABBOT. He's gone—his soul hath ta'en its earthless

flight

Whither? I dread to think-but he is gone.