Abbot. Thou dost not mean to menace me? Man. I simply tell thee peril is at hand, And would preserve thee. Not I; And steadfastly ;-now tell me what thou seest? Abbot. That which should shake me,-but I fear it not I see a dusk and awful figure rise, Like an infernal god, from out the earth; His face wrapt in a mantle, and his form Robed as with angry clouds; he stands between Thyself and me-but I do fear him not. Man. Thou hast no cause-he shall not harm thee but His sight may shock thine old limbs into palsy. I say to thee-Retire! Abbot. And I reply― Never-till I have battled with this fiend :- Man. Why-ay-what doth he here?— I did not send for him, he is unbidden. Abbot. Alas! lost mortal! what with guests like these Hast thou to do? I tremble for thy sake: Why doth he gaze on thee, and thou on him? Ah! he unveils his aspect : on his brow The thunder-scars are graven; from his eye Man. Pronounce-what is thy mission? Come! Abbot. What art thou, unknown being? answer ! speak! Spirit. The genius of this mortal.-Come! 'tis time. The power which summons me. Who sent thee here? And I do charge ye in the name Spirit. Old man ! We know ourselves, our mission, and thine order; It were in vain: this man is forfeited. Spirit. Reluctant mortal! Is this the Magian who would so pervade Man. Thou false fiend, thou liest ! My life is in its last hour,—that I know, Spirit. Have made thee Man. But thy many crimes What are they to such as thee? Must crimes be punish'd but by other crimes, And its own place and time—its innate sense, Born from the knowledge of its own desert. Thou didst not tempt me, and thou couldst not tempt me; [The Demons disappear. Abbot. Alas! how pale thou art-thy lips are white And thy breast heaves-and in thy gasping throat The accents rattle.-Give thy prayers to Heaven— Pray-albeit but in thought,-but die not thus. Man. 'Tis over-my dull eyes can fix thee not; But all things swim around me, and the earth Heaves as it were beneath me. Fare thee wellGive me thy hand. Abbot. Cold-cold-even to the heartBut yet one prayer-Alas! how fares it with thee? Man. Old man! 'tis not so difficult to die. [MANFRED expires. DYING SPEECH OF THE DOGE OF (MARINO FALIERO, Act v. Scene 3.) I SPEAK to Time and to Eternity, Of which I grow a portion, not to man. I hasten, let my voice be as a spirit Upon you! Ye blue waves! which bore my banner, I am not innocent—but are these guiltless? Float up from the abyss of time to be, And show these eyes, before they close, the doom When she, who built 'gainst Attila a bulwark, Shedding so much blood in her last defence And sold, and be an appanage to those In lieu of capital, with slaves for senates, Then, when the few who still retain a wreck With some large gondolier or foreign soldier, |