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But this avail'd not: Good, or evil, life,
I have no dread,
And feel the curse to have no natural fear,
Nor fluttering throb, that beats with hopes or wishes, Or lurking love of something on the earth.
Now to my task.—
Ye spirits of the unbounded Universe!
Whom I have sought in darkness and in light—
Ye, who do compass earth about, and dwell
In subtler essence-ye, to whom the tops
And earth's and ocean's caves familiar things
I call upon ye by the written charm
They come not yet. -Now by the voice of him
If it be so.-Spirits of earth and air,
[A star is seen at the darker end of the gallery: it is stationary; and a voice is heard singing.
Mortal! to thy bidding bow'd,
Voice of the SECOND SPirit.
Mont Blanc is the Monarch of mountains; They crown'd him long ago
On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds,
Around his waist are forests braced,
I am the spirit of the place,
Could make the mountain bow And quiver to his cavern'd base—
And what with me wouldst Thou?
Voice of the THIRD SPIRIT.
In the blue depth of the waters, Where the wave hath no strife, Where the wind is a stranger,
And the sea-snake hath life, Where the Mermaid is decking Her green hair with shells; Like the storm on the surface Came the sound of thy spells; O'er my calm Hall of Coral
The deep echo roll'd
To the Spirit of Ocean
Where the slumbering earthquake
Lies pillow'd on fire,
And the lakes of bitumen
Rise boilingly higher; Where the roots of the Andes
Strike deep in the earth,
Shoot soaringly forth;
Thy spell hath subdued me,
Thy will be my guide!
I am the Rider of the wind,
Is yet with lightning warm;
The fleet I met sail'd well, and yet
My dwelling is the shadow of the night, Why doth thy magic torture me with light?
The star which rules thy destiny
And thou! beneath its influence born-
Where these weak spirits round thee bend
And parley with a thing like thee—
What wouldst thou, Child of Clay! with me?
The SEVEN SPIRITS.
Earth, ocean, air, night, mountains, winds, thy star,
Of what-of whom-and why?
Man. Of that which is within me; read it there— Ye know it, and I cannot utter it.
Spirit. We can but give thee that which we possess: Ask of us subjects, sovereignty, the power
O'er earth, the whole, or portion, or a sign
These shall be thine.
Can ye not wring from out the hidden realms
Spirit. It is not in our essence, in our skill;
Will death bestow it on me?
Is, as the future, present. Art thou answer'd?