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And trust not to each other. Hark! the
[The Shepherd's pipe in
the distance is heard,
that I were
It is not of my search. My mother
edge I stand, and on the torrent's brink be
neath Behold the tall pines dwindled as to
holds, And makes it my fatality to live, if it be life to wear within myself This barrenness of spirit, and to be My own soul's sepulchre, for I have
ceased To justify my deeds unto myselfThe last infirmity of evil., Ay, Thou winged and cloud-cleaving minister,
[An eagle passes. Whose happy flight is highest into
heaven, Well may‘st thou swoop so near me--I
should be Thy prey, and gorge thine eaglets; thou
Enter from below a CHAMOIS HUNTER.
feet Have baffled me ; my gains to-day will Repay my break-neck travail.-What is
here? Who seems not of my trade, and yet
hath reach'd A height which none even of our moun
taineers, Save our best hunters, may attain : his
garb Is goodly, his mien manly, and his air Proud as a free-born peasant's, at this
distance : I will approach him nearer. Man. (not perceiving the other). To be
thusGray-hair'd with anguish, like these
not by years, And hours, all tortured into ages
hours Which I outlive !-Ye toppling crags of
ice! Ye avalanches, wliom a breath draws
down In mountainous o'erwhelming, come and
crush me! I hear ye moiently above, beneath, Crash with a frequent conflict; but ye
seizes and retains him with a sud
And only fall on things that still would
live; On the young flourishing forest, or the
hut And hamlet of the harmless villager. C. Hun. The mists begin to rise from
up the valley ; I'll warn him to descend, or he may
chance To lose at once his way and life together. Man. The mists boil up around the
glaciers; clouds Rise curling fast beneath me, white and
sulphury, Like foam from the roused ocean of deep
Hell, Whose every wave breaks on a living
shore, Heap'd with the damn 'd like pebbles.
I am giddy. C. Hun. I must approach him cau
tiously ; if near, A sudden step will startle him, and he Seems tottering already. Man.
Mountains have fallen, Leaving a gap in the clouds, and with
the shock Rocking their alpine brethren ; filling
up The ripe green valleys with destruction's
splinters; Damming the rivers with a sudden dash, Which crush'd the waters into mist and
made Their fountains find another channel
thus, Thus, in its old age, did Mount Rosen
bergWhy stood I not beneath it ? C. Hiin.
Friend ! have a care, Your next step may be fatal !-for the
love Of him who made you, stand not on that
brink ! Man. (not hearing him). Such would
have been for me a fitting tomb ; My bones had then been quiet in their
depth ; They had not then been strewn upon the
rocks For the wind's pastime--as thus-thus
they shall beIn this one plunge.--Farewell, ye open
ing heavens ! Look not upon me thus reproachfully-You were not meant for me-Earth!
take these atoms ! (A: MANFRED is in act to spring from
the cliff, the CHAMOIS HUNTER
C. Hun. Hold, madman !-though
aweary of thy life, Stain not our pure vales with thy guilty
blood : Away with me-- --I will not quit my
hold. Man. I am most sick at heart--nay,
grasp me notI am all feebleness—the mountains
whirl Spinning around me -I grow blind
What art thou ? C. Hun. I'll answer that anon. Away
with me The clouds grow thicker--there-now
lean on me Place your foot here--here, take this
staff, and cling A moment to that shrub—now give me
your hand, And hold fast by my girdle--softly
wellThe Chalet will be gain'd within an hour: Come on, we'll quickly find a surer foot
ing, And something like a pathway, which
the torrent Hath wash'd since winter.-Come, 't is
bravely done You should have been a hunter.-Follow
difficulty, the scene closes.
SCENE I. --A Cottage amongst the Ber.
nese Alps. MANFRED and the CHAMOIS HUNTER. C. Hun. No, no-yet pause--thou
must not yet go forth: Thy mind and body are alike unfit To trust each other, for some hours, at
least; When thou art better, I will be thy
Man. It imports not: I do knoir My route full well, and need no further
guidance C. Hun. Thy garb and gait bespeak thee
of high lineageOne of the many chiefs, whose castled
crags Look o'er the lower valleys—which of
May call thee lord? I only know their
portals; My way of life leads me but rarely down To bask by the huge hearths of those old
halls, Carousing with the vassals; but the paths, Which step from out our mountains to
their doors, I know from childhood—which of these
is thine ? Man. No matter. C. Hun. Well, sir, pardon me the
question, And be of better cheer. Come, taste my
wine; 'Tis of an ancient vintage ; many a day "T has thaw'd my veins among our
glaciers Let it do thus for thineCome, pledge
me fairly. Man. Away, away ! there's blood upon
the brim ! Vill it then never-never sink in the
earth? C. Hun. What dost thou mean ? thy
senses wander from thee. Man. I say 'tis blood-my blood ! the
pure warm stream Which ran in the veins of my fathers,
and in ours When we were in our youth, and had
one heart, And loved each other as we should not
love, And this was shed : but still it rises up, Coloring the clouds, that shut me out
from heaven, Where thou art not-and I shall never be. C. Hun. Man of strange words, and
some half-maddening sin, Which makes thee people vacancy,
whate'er Thy dread and sufferance be, there's
comfort yetThe aid of holy mon, and heavenly
Patience and patience!
Thanks to heaven !
Man. Do I not bear it?—Look on me
unslaked ! C. Hun. Why, on thy brow the seal
of middle age Hath scarce been set; I am thine elder
far. Man. Think'st thou existence doth
depend on time? It doth ; but actions are our epochs : mine Have made my days and nights im
perishable, Endless, and all alike, as sands on the
shore, Innumerable atorns; and one desert, Barren and cold, on which the wild
waves break, But nothing rests, save carcasses and
wrecks, Rocks and the salt-surf weeds of bitter
I must not leave him.
things I see
What is it
thy toils, By danger dignified, yet guiltless ; hopes of cheerful old age and a quiet grave, With cross and garland over its green
turf, And thy grandchildren's love for epi
taph ; This do I see-and then I look withinIt matters not-my soul was scorch'd al
ready! C. Hun. And wouldst thou then ex
change thy lot for mine?
Man. No, friend! I would not wrong (MANFRED takes some of the water thee, nor exchange
into the palm of his hand, and My lot with living being : I can bear
flings it into the air, muttering the However wretchedly, 'tis still to bear
adjuration. After a pause, the In life what others could not brook to
WITCH OF THE ALPS rises beneath dream,
the urch of the sunbow of the torBut perish in their slumber.
rent. C. Hun.
And with this- Beautiful Spirit! with thy hair of light, This cautious feeling for another's pain, And dazzling eyes of glory, in whose Canst thou be black with evil?--say not
The charms of earth's least mortal Can one of gentle thoughts have wreak'd daughters grow revenge
To an unearthly stature, in an essence Upon his enemies ?
Of purer elements; while the hues of Man. Oh! no, no, no!
youth, My injuries came down on those who Carnation'd like a sleeping infant's loved me-
cheek, On those whom I best loved : I never Rock'd by the beating of her mother's quelled
heart, An enemy, save in my just defence-- Or the rose tints, which summer's twi. But my embrace was fatal.
light leaves C. Hun. Heaven give thee rest! Upon the lofty glacier's virgin snow, And penitence restore thee to thyself ; The blush of earth embracing with her My prayers shall be for thee.
I need them nota Tinge thy celestial aspect, and make But can endure thy pity. I depart-
tame 'Tis time-farewell -Here's gold, and The beauties of the sunbow which bends thanks for thee
o'er thee. No words—it is thy due.-Follow me Beautiful Spirit! in thy calm clear brow, not
Wherein is glass'd serenity of soul, I know my path--the mountain peril's Which of itself shows immortality, past:
I read that thou wilt pardon to a Son And once again I charge thee, follow Of Earth, whom the abstruser powers not ! [Exit MANFRED.
At times to commune with them-it SCENE II
Avail him of his spells--to call thee A lower Valley in the Alps.-A Cataract. thus,
And gaze on thee a moment.
Son of Earth!
I know thee, and the powers which give It is not noon-the sunbow's rays still
thee power ; arch
I know thee for a man of many thoughts The torrent with the many hues of And deeds of good and ill, extrene in heaven,
both, And roll the sheeted silver's waving Fatal and fated in thy sufferings. column
I have expected this-what wouldst thou O'er the crag's headlong perpendicular,
with me? And Aling its lines of foaining light along, Man. To look upon thy beauty-notlıAnd to and fro, like the pale courser's ing further. tail,
The face of the earth hath madden'd me, The Giant steed, to be bestrode by Death,
and I As told in the Apocalypse. No eyes Take refuge in her mysteries, and pierce But mine now drink this sight of love. To the abodes of those who govern herliness ;
But they can nothing aid me. I have I should be sole in this sweet solitude,
sought And with the Spirit of the place divide From them what they could not bestow, The homage of these waters.--I will call and now her.
I search no further.
Witch. What could be the quest Which is not in the power of the most
powerful, The rulers of the invisible ? Мап.
A boon; But why should I repeat it? 'twere in
vain. Witch. I know not that ; let thy lips
utter it. Man. Well, though it torture me, 'tis
but the same; My pang shall find a voice. From my
youtlı upwards My spirit walk'd not with the souls of
men, Nor look'd upon the earth with human
eyes ; The thirst of their ambition was not
mine, The aim of their existence was not
mine; My joys, my griefs, my passions, and my
powers, Made me a stranger; though I wore the
form, I had no sympathy with breathing flesh, Nor inidst the creatures of clay that
girded me Was there but one who-but of her anon, I said with men, and with the thoughts of
men, I held but slight communion; but instead My joy was in the wilderness,-to
breathe The difficult air of the iced mountain's
catch The dazzling lightnings till my eyes grew Or to look, list’ning, on the scattered
In my lone wanderings, to the caves of
death, Searching its cause in its effect; and
drew From wither'd bones, and skull, and
heap'd up dust, Conclusions most forbidden. Then I
grew The thirst of knowledge, and the power
grie?-But to my task, I have not named to thee Father or mother, mistress, friend, or
being, With whom I wore the chain of human
If I had such, they seem'd not such to me;
Witch. Spare not thyself--proceed.
Her hair, lier features, all, to the very
tone Even of her voice, they said were like
to mine ; But soften'd all, and temper'd into
beauty : She had the same lone thoughts and
wanderings, The quest of hidden knowledge, and a