To bind me in existence in a life

Which makes me shrink from immortality—
A future like the past. I cannot rest.

I know not what I ask, nor what I seek:
I feel but what thou art - and what I am;

And I would hear yet once before I perish

The voice which was my music - Speak to me!

For I have call'd on thee in the still night,

Startled the slumbering birds from the hush'd boughs,
And woke the mountain wolves, and made the caves
Acquainted with thy vainly echoed name,
Which answer'd me - - many things answer'd me
Spirits and men - but thou wert silent all.
Yet speak to me! I have outwatch'd the stars,
And gazed o'er heaven in vain in search of thee.
Speak to me! I have wander'd o'er the earth,
And never found thy likeness - Speak to me!
Look on the fiends around they feel for me:
I fear them not, and feel for thee alone
Speak to me! though it be in wrath;

-

but say

I reck not what - but let me hear thee once —

This once once more!

Phantom of Astarte.

Man.

Manfred!

Say on, say on

I live but in the sound—it is thy voice!

Phan. Manfred! To-morrow ends thine earthly ills. Farewell!

Man. Yet one word more - am I forgiven?

Phan. Farewell!

Man.

Say, shall we meet again?

Phan. Farewell!

Man.

Phan.

Nem.

One word for mercy! Say, thou lovest me.
Manfred!

[The Spirit of ASTARTE disappears.

She 's gone, and will not be recall'd;

Her words will be fulfill'd. Return to the earth.

A Spirit. He is convulsed — This is to be a mortal And seek the things beyond mortality.

Another Spirit. Yet, see, he mastereth himself, and

makes

His torture tributary to his will.

Had he been one of us, he would have made

Man. We meet then! Where? On the earth?

Even as thou wilt: and for the grace accorded

I now depart a debtor. Fare ye well!

[Exit MANFRed.

MANFRED'S FAREWELL TO THE SUN.

(MANFRED, Act iii. Scene 2.)

GLORIOUS Orb! the idol

Of early nature, and the vigorous race
Of undiseased mankind, the giant sons

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

Thou chief star,

Who chose thee for His shadow!
Centre of many stars! which mak'st 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.

I follow.

He is gone:

MANFRED'S END.

(MANFRED, Act iii. Scene 4.)

Interior of a Tower. MANFRED alone.

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,

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 watchdog 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 bowshot. - Where the Cæsars dwelt,

-

And dwell the tuneless birds of night, amidst

A grove which springs through levell'd battlements,
And twines its roots with the imperial hearths,

Ivy usurps the laurel's place of growth; -
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-
Could I touch that, with words or prayers, I should
Recall a noble spirit which hath wander'd,

But is not yet all lost.

Man.

Thou know'st me not;

My days are number'd, and my deeds recorded:
Retire, or 't will be dangerous - Away!

Abbot. Thou dost not mean to menace me?
Man.

I simply tell thee peril is at hand,

And would preserve thee.

Abbot.

What dost thou mean?

Not I;