And steadfastly; now tell me what thou seest?
Abbot. That which should shake me,
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 ·
His sight may shock thine old limbs into palsy.
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
Glares forth the immortality of hell-
Avaunt!-
Man. Pronounce what is thy mission?
Spirit.
Abbot. What art thou, unknown being? answer! —
Spirit. The genius of this mortal. - Come! 't is time.
Man. I am prepared for all things, but deny
The power which summons me.
Spirit. Thou 'It know anon
Come! come!
I have commanded
Things of an essence greater far than thine,
And striven with thy masters. Get thee hence!
Spirit. Mortal! thine hour is come-Away! I say.
Man. I knew, and know my hour is come, but not
To render up my soul to such as thee:
Away! I'll die as I have lived - alone.
Spirit. Then I must summon up my brethren. - Rise!
[Other spirits rise up. Abbot. Avaunt! ye evil ones! -Avaunt! I say, Ye have no power where piety hath power,
And I do charge ye in the name
We know ourselves, our mission, and thine order;
Waste not thy holy words on idle uses,
It were in vain: this man is forfeited.
Once more I summon him-Away! away!
Man. I do defy ye, - though I feel my soul
Is ebbing from me, yet I do defy ye;
Nor will I hence, while I have earthly breath
To breathe my scorn upon ye-earthly strength
To wrestle, though with spirits; what ye take
Shall be ta'en limb by limb.
Is this the Magian who would so pervade
The world invisible, and make himself
Almost our equal? Can it be that thou
Art thus in love with life? the very life
Which made thee wretched!
Man.
My life is in its last hour,—that I know,
Nor would redeem a moment of that hour;
I do not combat against death, but thee
And thy surrounding angels; my past power
Was purchased by no compact with thy crew,
But by superior science
Thou false fiend, thou liest!
And length of watching — strength of mind — and skill
In knowledge of our fathers - when the earth
Saw men and spirits walking side by side,
And gave ye no supremacy: I stand
Upon my strength — I do defy — deny -
Spurn back, and scorn ye!
What are they to such as thee?
Must crimes be punish'd but by other crimes,
And greater criminals? - Back to thy hell!
Thou hast no power upon me, that I feel;
Thou never shalt possess me, that I know:
What I have done is done; I bear within
A torture which could nothing gain from thine:
The mind which is immortal makes itself
Requital for its good or evil thoughts-
Is its own origin of ill and end-
And its own place and time-its innate sense,
When stripp'd of this mortality, derives
No color from the fleeting things without;
But is absorb'd in sufferance or in joy,
Born from the knowledge of its own desert.
Thou didst not tempt me, and thou couldst not tempt me;
I have not been thy dupe, nor am thy prey-
But was my own destroyer, and will be
My own hereafter. - Back, ye baffled fiends!
The hand of death is on me - but not yours!
[The Demons disappear.
Alas! how pale thou art - thy lips are white
and in thy gasping throat
Give thy prayers to Heaven -
And thy breast heaves
The accents rattle.
Pray-albeit but in thought, —but die not thus.
Man. 'T is 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 well
Man. Old man! 't is not so difficult to die.
DYING SPEECH OF THE DOGE OF
VENICE.
(MARINO FALIERO, Act v. Scene 3.)
I SPEAK to Time and to Eternity,
Of which I grow a portion, not to man.
Ye elements! in which to be resolved
I hasten, let my voice be as a spirit
Upon you! Ye blue waves! which bore my banner,
Ye winds! which flutter'd o'er as if you loved it,
And fill'd my swelling sails as they were wafted
To many a triumph! Thou, my native earth,
Which I have bled for, and thou foreign earth,
Which drank this willing blood from many a wound!
Ye stones, in which my gore will not sink, but
Reek up to Heaven! Ye skies, which will receive it!
Thou sun! which shinest on these things, and Thou!
Who kindlest and who quenchest suns! - Attest!
I am not innocent but are these guiltless?
I perish, but not unavenged; far ages
Float up from the abyss of time to be,
And show these eyes, before they close, the doom
Of this proud city, and I leave my curse
On her and hers forever! - Yes, the hours
Are silently engendering of the day,
When she, who built 'gainst Attila a bulwark,
Shall yield, and bloodlessly and basely yield
Unto a bastard Attila, without
Shedding so much blood in her last defence
As these old veins, oft drain'd in shielding her,
Shall pour in sacrifice. She shall be bought
And sold, and be an appanage to those
Who shall despise her! She shall stoop to be
A province for an empire, petty town
In lieu of capital, with slaves for senates,
Beggars for nobles, panders for a people!
Then when the Hebrew 's in thy palaces,
The Hun in thy high places, and the Greek
Walks o'er thy mart, and smiles on it for his !
When thy patricians beg their bitter bread
In narrow streets, and in their shameful need
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