A mighty thing amongst the mean, and such
The mass are: I disdain'd to mingle with
A herd, though to be leader—and of wolves.
The lion is alone, and so am I.

Abbot. And why not live and act with other men?
Manf. Because my nature was averse from life;
And yet not cruel; for I would not make,

But find a desolation :-like the wind,

The red-hot breath of the most lone simoom,
Which dwells but in the desert, and sweeps o'er
The barren sands which bear no shrubs to blast,
And revels o'er their wild and arid waves,
And seeketh not, so that it is not sought,
But being met is deadly; such hath been
The course of my existence: but there came
Things in my path which are no more.

I'gin to fear that thou art past all aid
From me and from my calling; yet so young,
1 still would-

Manf.

Look on me! there is an order

Of mortals on the earth, who do become
Old in their youth and die ere middle age,
Without the violence of warlike death;
Some perishing of pleasure-some of study-
Some worn with toil-some of mere weariness-
Some of disease-and some insanity-
And some of wither'd, or of broken hearts;
For this last is a malady which slays

More than are number'd in the lists of fate,
Taking all shapes, and bearing many names.
Look upon me! for even of all these things
Have I partaken; and of all these things,
One were enough: then wonder not that I
Am what I am, but that I ever was,
Or, having been, that I am still on earth.
Abbot. Yet, hear me still-

Manf.
Thine order, and revere thine years; I deem
Thy purpose pious, but it is in vain :

Old man! I do respect

Think me not churlish; I would spare thyself,
Far more than me, in shunning at this time
All further colloquy-and o-farewell.

[Exit MANFRED.

Abbot. This should have been a noble creature: he

Hath all the energy which would have made

A goodly frame of glorious elements,

Had they been wisely mingled; as it is,

It is an awful chaos-light and darkness—

And mind and dust-and passions and pure thoughts,
Mix'd and contending without end or order,
All dormant or destructive: he will perish,-
And yet he must not; I will try once more,
For such are worth redemption; and
Is to dare all things for a righteous end.
I'll follow him--but cautiously, though surely.

my duty

[Exit ABBOT.

SCENE II.-ANOTHER CHAMBER.

MANFRED and HERMAN.

Her. My lord, you bade me wait on you at sunset: He sinks behind the mountain.

[MANFRED advances to the window of the hall.

Glorious orb! the idol

Of early nature, and the vigorous race
Of undiseased mankind, the giant sons 4
Of the embrace of angels, with a sex

More beautiful than they, which did draw down
The erring spirits who can ne'er return—
Most glorious orb! that wert a worship, ere
The mystery of thy making was reveal'd!
Thou earliest minister of the Almighty,

Which gladden'd, on their mountain tops, the hearts
Of the Chaldean shepherds, till they pour'd
Themselves in orisons! Thou material God!
And representative of the Unknown—

Who chose thee for his shadow ! Thou chief star!
Centre of many stars! which makest our earth
Endurable, and temperest the hues

And hearts of all who walk within thy rays!
Sire of the seasons!-Monarch of the climes,
And those who dwell in them! for, near or far,
Our inborn spirits have a tint of thee,
Even as our outward aspects;-thou dost rise,
And shine, and set in glory. Fare thee well!
I ne'er shall see thee more. As my first glance
Of love and wonder was for thee, then take
My latest look; thou wilt not beam on one
To whom the gifts of life and warmth have been:
Of a more fatal nature. He is gone

I follow.

[Exit MANFRED.

SCENE III-THE MOUNTAINS-THE CASTLE OF MANFRED AT SOME DISTANCE-A TERRACE BEFORE A TOWER.-TIME, TWILIGHT.

HERMAN, MANUEL, and other dependants of MANFRED.

Her. 'T is strange enough; night after night, for years,
He hath pursued long vigils in this tower,
Without a witness. I have been within it,—

So have we all been oft-times: but from it,
Or its contents, it were impossible
To draw conclusions absolute, of aught
His studies tend to. To be sure, there is
One chamber where none enter; I would give
The fee of what I have to come these three years,
To pore upon its mysteries.

Man.

'T were dangerous; Content thyself with what thou know'st already.

Her. Ah! Manuel! thou art elderly and wise,
And couldst say much; thou hast dwelt within the castle-
How many years is 't?

Man.

Ere Count Manfred's birth, I served his father, whom he nought resembles.

Her. There be more sons in like predicament: But wherein do they differ?

Of features or of form, but mind and habits :

Count Sigismund was proud,—but gay and free,—

A warrior and a reveller; he dwelt not

With books and solitude, nor made the night

A gloomy vigil, but a festal time,

Merrier than day; he did not walk the rocks
And forests like a wolf, nor turn aside

From men and their delights.

Her.

Beshrew the hour,

But those were jocund times! I would that such

Would visit the old walls again; they look

As if they had forgotten them.

Must change their chieftain first. Oh! I have seen
Some strange things in them, Herman.

Come, be friendly;

Her.
Relate me some, to while away our watch :
I've heard thee darkly speak of an event
Which happen'd hereabouts, by this same tower.
Man. That was a night indeed; I do remember
'T was twilight, as it may be now, and such

Another evening ;-yon red cloud, which rests
On Eigher's pinnacle, so rested then,—
So like that it might be the same: the wind
Was faint and gusty, and the mountain snows
Began to glitter with the climbing moon;
Count Manfred was, as now, within his tower:---
How occupied, we knew not, but with him
The sole companion of his wanderings

And watchings-her, whom of all earthly things
That lived, the only thing he seem'd to love,
As he, indeed, by blood was bound to do,
The lady Astarte, his-

Hush! who comes here?

Knock, and apprise the Count of my approach.

The stars are forth, the moon above the tops
Of the snow-shining mountains.-Beautiful!

I linger yet with nature, for the night
Hath been to me a more familiar face
Than that of man; and in her starry shade
Of dim and solitary loveliness,

[Exeunt.

I learn'd the language of another world.
I do remember me, that in my youth,
When I was wandering,-upon such a night
I stood within the Coliseum's wall,

Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome;
The trees which grew along the broken arches
Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars
Shone through the rents of ruin; from afar
The watch-dog bay'd beyond the Tiber; and
More near from out the Cæsar's palace came
The owl's long cry, and, interruptedly,
Of distant sentinels the fitful song
Begun and died upon the gentle wind.
Some cypresses beyond the time-worn breach
Appear'd to skirt the horizon, yet they stood
Within a bow-shot-where the Cæsars dwelt,
And dwell the tuneless birds of night, amidst

Α

grove which springs through levell'd battlements, And twines its roots with the imperial hearths, the laurel's place of growth;

Ivy usurps

But the gladiator's bloody circus stands,

A noble wreck in ruinous perfection!

While Cæsar's chambers, and the Augustan halls, Grovel on earth in indistinct decay.—

And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, upon

All this, and cast a wide and tender light,
Which soften'd down the hoar austerity
Of rugged desolation, and fill'd up,
As 't were anew, the gaps of centuries :
Leaving that beautiful which still was so,
And making that which was not, till the place
Became religion, and the heart ran o'er
With silent worship of the great of old!

The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule
Our spirits from their urns.—

'T was such a night!

'T is strange that I recall it at this time;

But I have found our thoughts take wildest flight Even at the moment when they should array Themselves in pensive order.

Abbot.

Enter the ABBOT.

My good lord!

I crave a second grace for this approach;
But yet let not my humble zeal offend
By its abruptness-all it hath of ill
Recoils on me; its good in the effect

May light upon your head-Could I say heart—