XVI.

For thee, my own sweet sister, in thy heart I know myself secure, as thou in mine; We were and are--I am, even as thou art--[am] Beings who ne'er each other can resign; It is the same, together or apart, From Life's commencement to its slow decline We are entwined--let Death come slow or fast,[an] The tie which bound the first endures the last!

[First published, _Letters and Journals,_ 1830, ii. 38-41.]

LINES ON HEARING THAT LADY BYRON WAS ILL.[91]

And thou wert sad--yet I was not with thee; And thou wert sick, and yet I was not near; Methought that Joy and Health alone could be Where I was _not_--and pain and sorrow here! And is it thus?--it is as I foretold, And shall be more so; for the mind recoils Upon itself, and the wrecked heart lies cold, While Heaviness collects the shattered spoils. It is not in the storm nor in the strife We feel benumbed, and wish to be no more, But in the after-silence on the shore, When all is lost, except a little life.

I am too well avenged!--but 'twas my right; Whate'er my sins might be, _thou_ wert not sent To be the Nemesis who should requite--[92] Nor did Heaven choose so near an instrument. Mercy is for the merciful!--if thou Hast been of such, 'twill be accorded now. Thy nights are banished from the realms of sleep:--[93] Yes! they may flatter thee, but thou shall feel A hollow agony which will not heal, For thou art pillowed on a curse too deep; Thou hast sown in my sorrow, and must reap The bitter harvest in a woe as real! I have had many foes, but none like thee; For 'gainst the rest myself I could defend, And be avenged, or turn them into friend; But thou in safe implacability Hadst nought to dread--in thy own weakness shielded, And in my love, which hath but too much yielded, And spared, for thy sake, some I should not spare; And thus upon the world--trust in thy truth, And the wild fame of my ungoverned youth-- On things that were not, and on things that are-- Even upon such a basis hast thou built A monument, whose cement hath been guilt! The moral Clytemnestra of thy lord,[94] And hewed down, with an unsuspected sword, Fame, peace, and hope--and all the better life Which, but for this cold treason of thy heart, Might still have risen from out the grave of strife, And found a nobler duty than to part. But of thy virtues didst thou make a vice, Trafficking with them in a purpose cold, For present anger, and for future gold-- And buying others' grief at any price.[95] And thus once entered into crooked ways, The early truth, which was thy proper praise,[96] Did not still walk beside thee--but at times, And with a breast unknowing its own crimes, Deceit, averments incompatible, Equivocations, and the thoughts which dwell In Janus-spirits--the significant eye Which learns to lie with silence--the pretext[97] Of prudence, with advantages annexed-- The acquiescence in all things which tend, No matter how, to the desired end-- All found a place in thy philosophy. The means were worthy, and the end is won-- I would not do by thee as thou hast done!

_September, 1816._

[First published, _New Monthly Magazine_, August, 1832, vol. xxxv. pp. 142, 143.]

FOOTNOTES:

[35] {33}[Compare--

"Come, blessed barrier between day and day."

[36] [Compare--

"...the night's dismay Saddened and stunned the coming day."

_The Pains of Sleep_, lines 33, 34, by S. T. Coleridge, _Poetical Works_, 1893, p. 170.]

[37] {34}[Compare _Childe Harold_, Canto III. stanza vi. lines 1-4, note, _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 219.]

[38] [Compare--

"With us acts are exempt from time, and we Can crowd eternity into an hour."

_Cain_, act i. sc. 1]

[i] {35}

----_she was his sight,_ _For never did he turn his glance until_ _Her own had led by gazing on an object._--[MS.]

[39] {35}[Compare--

"Thou art my life, my love, my heart, The very eyes of me."

_To Anthea, etc._, by Robert Herrick.]

[40] [Compare--

"...the river of your love, Must in the ocean of your affection To me, be swallowed up."

Massinger's _Unnatural Combat_, act iii. sc. 4.]

[41] [Compare--

"The hot blood ebbed and flowed again."

_Parisina_, line 226, _Poetical Works_, 1900, iii. 515.]

[42] ["Annesley Lordship is owned by Miss Chaworth, a minor heiress of the Chaworth family."--Throsby's _Thoroton's History of Nottinghamshire_, 1797, ii. 270.]

[43] ["Moore, commenting on this (_Life_, p. 28), tells us that the image of the lover's steed was suggested by the Nottingham race-ground ... nine miles off, and ... lying in a hollow, and totally hidden from view.... Mary Chaworth, in fact, was looking for her lover's steed along the road as it winds up the common from Hucknall."-"A Byronian Ramble," _Athenæum_, No. 357, August 30, 1834.]

[44] {36}[Moore (_Life_, p. 28) regards "the antique oratory," as a poetical equivalent for Annesley Hall; but _vide ante_, the Introduction to _The Dream_, p. 31.]

[45] [Compare--

"Love by the object loved is soon discerned."

_Story of Rimini_, by Leigh Hunt, Canto III. ed. 1844, p. 22.

The line does not occur in the first edition, published early in 1816, or, presumably, in the MS. read by Byron in the preceding year. (See Letter to Murray, November 4, 1815.)]

[46] {37}[Byron once again revisited Annesley Hall in the autumn of 1808 (see his lines, "Well, thou art happy," and "To a Lady," etc., _Poetical Works_, 1898, i. 277, 282, note 1); but it is possible that he avoided the "massy gate" ("arched over and surmounted by a clock and cupola") of set purpose, and entered by another way. He would not lightly or gladly have taken a liberty with the actual prosaic facts in a matter which so nearly concerned his personal emotions (_vide ante_, the Introduction to _The Dream_, p. 31).]

[47] ["This is true _keeping_--an Eastern picture perfect in its foreground, and distance, and sky, and no part of which is so dwelt upon or laboured as to obscure the principal figure."--Sir Walter Scott, _Quarterly Review_, No. xxxi. "Byron's Dream" is the subject of a well-known picture by Sir Charles Eastlake.]

[48] {38}[Compare--

"Then Cythna turned to me and from her eyes Which swam with unshed tears," etc.

Shelly's _Revolt of Islam_ ("Laon and Cythna"),

## Canto XII. stanza xxii. lines 2, 3, _Poetical Works_, 1829, p. 48.]

[49] [An old servant of the Chaworth family, Mary Marsden, told Washington Irving (_Abbotsford and Newstead Abbey_, 1835, p. 204) that Byron used to call Mary Chaworth "his bright morning star of Annesley." Compare the well-known lines--

"She was a form of Life and Light, That, seen, became a part of sight; And rose, where'er I turned mine eye, The Morning-star of Memory!"

_The Giaour_, lines 1127-1130, _Poetical Works_, 1900, iii. 136, 137.]

[50] ["This touching picture agrees closely, in many of its circumstances, with Lord Byron's own prose account of the wedding in his Memoranda; in which he describes himself as waking, on the morning of his marriage, with the most melancholy reflections, on seeing his wedding-suit spread out before him. In the same mood, he wandered about the grounds alone, till he was summoned for the ceremony, and joined, for the first time on that day, his bride and her family. He knelt down--he repeated the words after the clergyman; but a mist was before his eyes--his thoughts were elsewhere: and he was but awakened by the congratulations of the bystanders to find that he was--married."--_Life_, p. 272.

Medwin, too, makes Byron say (_Conversations, etc._, 1824, p. 46) that he "trembled like a leaf, made the wrong responses, and after the ceremony called her (the bride) Miss Milbanke." All that can be said of Moore's recollection of the "memoranda," or Medwin's repetition of so-called conversations (reprinted almost _verbatim_ in _Life, Writings, Opinions, etc._, 1825, ii. 227, _seq._, as "Recollections of the Lately Destroyed Manuscript," etc.), is that they tend to show that Byron meant _The Dream_ to be taken literally as a record of actual events. He would not have forgotten by July, 1816, circumstances of great import which had taken place in December, 1815: and he's either lying of malice prepense or telling "an ower true tale."]

[j] {40}

----_the glance_ _Of melancholy is a fearful gift;_ _For it becomes the telescope of truth,_ _And shows us all things naked as they are_.--[MS.]

[51] [Compare--

"Who loves, raves--'tis youth's frenzy--but the cure Is bitterer still, as charm by charm unwinds Which robed our idols, and we see too sure Nor Worth nor Beauty dwells from out the mind's Ideal shape of such."

_Childe Harold_, Canto IV. stanza cxxiii. lines 1-5, _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 420.]

[52] Mithridates of Pontus. [Mithridates, King of Pontus (B.C. 120-63), surnamed Eupator, succeeded to the throne when he was only eleven years of age. He is said to have safeguarded himself against the designs of his enemies by drugging himself with antidotes against poison, and so effectively that, when he was an old man, he could not poison himself, even when he was minded to do so--"ut ne volens quidem senex veneno mori potuerit."--Justinus, _Hist._, lib. xxxvii. cap. ii.

According to Medwin (_Conversations_, p. 148), Byron made use of the same illustration in speaking of Polidori's death (April, 1821), which was probably occasioned by "poison administered to himself" (see _Letters_, 1899, iii. 285).]

[53] {41}[Compare--

"Where rose the mountains, there to him were friends."

_Childe Harold_, Canto III. stanza xiii. line 1.

"...and to me High mountains are a feeling."

_Ibid._, stanza lxxii. lines 2,3, _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 223, 261.]

[54] [Compare--

"Ye Spirits of the unbounded Universe!"

_Manfred_, act i. sc. 1, line 29, _vide post_, p. 86.]

[55] [Compare _Manfred_, act ii. sc. 2, lines 79-91; and _ibid._, act iii. sc. 1, lines 34-39; and sc. 4, lines 112-117, _vide post_, pp. 105, 121, 135.]

[k] {42}In the original MS. _A Dream_.

[56] [Sir Walter Scott (_Quarterly Review_, October, 1816, vol. xvi. p. 204) did not take kindly to _Darkness_. He regarded the "framing of such phantasms" as "a dangerous employment for the exalted and teeming imagination of such a poet as Lord Byron. The waste of boundless space into which they lead the poet, the neglect of precision which such themes may render habitual, make them in respect to poetry what mysticism is to religion." Poetry of this kind, which recalled "the wild, unbridled, and fiery imagination of Coleridge," was a novel and untoward experiment on the part of an author whose "peculiar art" it was "to show the reader where his purpose tends." The resemblance to Coleridge is general rather than particular. It is improbable that Scott had ever read _Limbo_ (first published in _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817), an attempt to depict the "mere horror of blank nought-at-all;" but it is possible that he had in his mind the following lines (384-390) from _Religious Musings_, in which "the final destruction is impersonated" (see Coleridge's note) in the "red-eyed Fiend:"--

"For who of woman born may paint the hour, When seized in his mid course, the Sun shall wane, Making the noon ghastly! Who of woman born May image in the workings of his thought, How the black-visaged, red-eyed Fiend outstretched Beneath the unsteady feet of Nature groans In feverous slumbers?"

_Poetical Works_, 1893, p. 60.

Another and a less easily detected source of inspiration has been traced (see an article on Campbell's _Last Man_, in the _London Magazine and Review_, 1825, New Series, i. 588, seq.) to a forgotten but once popular novel entitled _The Last Man, or Omegarus and Syderia, a Romance in Futurity_ (two vols. 1806). Kölbing (_Prisoner of Chillon_, etc., pp. 136-140) adduces numerous quotations in support of this contention. The following may serve as samples: "As soon as the earth had lost with the moon her guardian star, her decay became more rapid.... Some, in their madness, destroyed the instruments of husbandry, others in deep despair summoned death to their relief. Men began to look on each other with eyes of enmity" (i. 105). "The sun exhibited signs of decay, its surface turned pale, and its beams were frigid. The northern nations dreaded perishing by intense cold ... and fled to the torrid zone to court the sun's beneficial rays" (i. 120). "The reign of Time was over, ages of Eternity were going to begin; but at the same moment Hell shrieked with rage, and the sun and stars were extinguished. The gloomy night of chaos enveloped the world, plaintive sounds issued from mountains, rocks, and caverns,--Nature wept, and a doleful voice was heard exclaiming in the air, 'The human race is no more!'"(ii. 197).

It is difficult to believe that Byron had not read, and more or less consciously turned to account, the imagery of this novel; but it is needless to add that any charge of plagiarism falls to the ground. Thanks to a sensitive and appreciative ear and a retentive memory, Byron's verse is interfused with manifold strains, but, so far as _Darkness_ is concerned, his debt to Coleridge or the author of _Omegarus and Syderia_ is neither more nor less legitimate than the debt to Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Joel, which a writer in the _Imperial Magazine_ (1828, x. 699), with solemn upbraidings, lays to his charge.

The duty of acknowledging such debts is, indeed, "a duty of imperfect obligation." The well-known lines in Tennyson's _Locksley Hall_--

"Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rained a ghastly dew From the nations' airy navies grappling in the central blue!"

is surely an echo of an earlier prophecy from the pen of the author of _Omegarus and Syderia_: "In the center the heavens were seen darkened by legions of armed vessels, making war on each other!... The soldiers fell in frightful numbers.... Their blood stained the soft verdure of the trees, and their scattered bleeding limbs covered the fields and the roofs of the labourers' cottages" (i. 68). But such "conveyings" are honourable to the purloiner. See, too, the story of the battle between the Vulture-cavalry and the Sky-gnats, in Lucian's _Veræ Historiæ_, i. 16.]

[57] {44}

["If thou speak'st false, Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive, Till famine cling thee."

_Macbeth_, act V. sc. 5, lines 38-40.

Fruit is said to be "clung" when the skin shrivels, and a corpse when the face becomes wasted and gaunt.]

[58] {45}[So, too, Vathek and Nouronihar, in the Hall of Eblis, waited "in direful suspense the moment which should render them to each other ... objects of terror."--_Vathek_, by W. Beckford, 1887, p. 185.]

[59] [Charles Churchill was born in February, 1731, and died at Boulogne, November 4, 1764. The body was brought to Dover and buried in the churchyard attached to the demolished church of St. Martin-le-Grand ("a small deserted cemetery in an obscure lane behind [i.e. above] the market"). See note by Charles De la Pryme, _Notes and Queries_, 1854, Series I. vol. x. p. 378. There is a tablet to his memory on the south wall of St. Mary's Church, and the present headstone in the graveyard (it was a "plain headstone" in 1816) bears the following inscription:--

"1764. Here lie the remains of the celebrated C. Churchill. 'Life to the last enjoy'd, here Churchill lies.'"

Churchill had been one of Byron's earlier models, and the following lines from _The Candidate_, which suggested the epitaph (lines 145-154), were, doubtless, familiar to him:--

"Let one poor sprig of Bay around my head Bloom whilst I live, and point me out when dead; Let it (may Heav'n indulgent grant that prayer) Be planted on my grave, nor wither there; And when, on travel bound, some rhyming guest Roams through the churchyard, whilst his dinner's drest, Let it hold up this comment to his eyes; Life to the last enjoy'd, _here_ Churchill lies; Whilst (O, what joy that pleasing flatt'ry gives) Reading my Works he cries--_here_ Churchill lives."

Byron spent Sunday, April 25, 1816, at Dover. He was to sail that night for Ostend, and, to while away the time, "turned to Pilgrim" and thought out, perhaps began to write, the lines which were finished three months later at the Campagne Diodati.

"The Grave of Churchill," writes Scott (_Quarterly Review_, October, 1816), "might have called from Lord Byron a deeper commemoration; for, though they generally differed in character and genius, there was a resemblance between their history and character.... both these poets held themselves above the opinion of the world, and both were followed by the fame and popularity which they seemed to despise. The writings of both exhibit an inborn, though sometimes ill-regulated, generosity of mind, and a spirit of proud independence, frequently pushed to extremes. Both carried their hatred of hypocrisy beyond the verge of prudence, and indulged their vein of satire to the borders of licentiousness."

Save for the affectation of a style which did not belong to him, and which in his heart he despised, Byron's commemoration of Churchill does not lack depth or seriousness. It was the parallel between their lives and temperaments which awoke reflection and sympathy, and prompted this "natural homily." Perhaps, too, the shadow of impending exile had suggested to his imagination that further parallel which Scott deprecated, and deprecated in vain, "death in the flower of his age, and in a foreign land."]

[60] {46}[On the sheet containing the original draft of these lines Lord Byron has written, "The following poem (as most that I have endeavoured to write) is founded on a fact; and this detail is an attempt at a serious imitation of the style of a great poet--its beauties and its defects: I say the _style_; for the thoughts I claim as my own. In this, if there be anything ridiculous, let it be attributed to me, at least as much as to Mr. Wordsworth: of whom there can exist few greater admirers than myself. I have blended what I would deem to be the beauties as well as defects of his style; and it ought to be remembered, that, in such things, whether there be praise or dispraise, there is always what is called a compliment, however unintentional." There is, as Scott points out, a much closer resemblance to Southey's "_English Eclogues,_ in which moral truths are expressed, to use the poet's own language, 'in an almost colloquial plainness of language,' and an air of quaint and original expression assumed, to render the sentiment at once impressive and _piquant_."]

[61] {47}[Compare--

"The under-earth inhabitants--are they But mingled millions decomposed to clay?"

_A Fragment_, lines 23, 24, _vide post_, p. 52.

It is difficult to "extricate" the meaning of lines 19-25, but, perhaps, they are intended to convey a hope of immortality. "As I was speaking, the sexton (the architect) tried to answer my question by taxing his memory with regard to the occupants of the several tombs. He might well be puzzled, for 'Earth is but a tombstone,' covering an amalgam of dead bodies, and, unless in another life soul were separated from soul, as on earth body is distinct from body, Newton himself, who disclosed 'the turnpike-road through the unpaved stars' (_Don Juan_, Canto X. stanza ii. line 4), would fail to assign its proper personality to any given lump of clay."]

[62] {48}[Compare--

"But here [i.e. in 'the realm of death'] all is So shadowy and so full of twilight, that It speaks of a day past."

_Cain_, act ii. sc. 2.

[63] ["Selected," that is, by "frequent travellers" (_vide supra_, line 12).]

[l]

----_then most pleased, I shook_ _My inmost pocket's most retired nook,_ _And out fell five and sixpence_.--[MS.]

[64] [Byron was a lover and worshipper of Prometheus as a boy. His first English exercise at Harrow was a paraphrase of a chorus of the _Prometheus Vinctus_ of Æschylus, line 528, _sq._ (see _Poetical Works_, 1898, i. 14). Referring to a criticism on _Manfred_ (_Edinburgh Review_, vol xxviii. p. 431) he writes (October 12, 1817, _Letters_, 1900, iv. 174): "The _Prometheus_, if not exactly in my plan, has always been so much in my head, that I can easily conceive its influence over all or any thing that I have written." The conception of an immortal sufferer at once beneficent and defiant, appealed alike to his passions and his convictions, and awoke a peculiar enthusiasm. His poems abound with allusions to the hero and the legend. Compare the first draft of stanza xvi. of the _Ode to Napoleon Buonaparte_ (_Poetical Works_, 1900, iii. 312, var. ii.); _The Prophecy of Dante_, iv. 10, seq.; the _Irish Avatar_, stanza xii. line 2, etc.]

[65] {49}[Compare--

Τοιαῦτ' ἐπηύρου τοῦ φιλανθρώπου τρόπου

_P. V._, line 28.

Compare, too--

Θνητὸυς δ' ἐν οἴ.κtῳ προθέμενος, τούτου τυχεῖν Οὐκ ἠξιώθην αὐτὸς

Ibid., lines 241, 242.]

[66] [Compare--

Διὸς γὰρ δυσπαραίτητοι φρένες.

Ibid., line 34.

Compare, too--

...γιγνώσκονθ' ὅτι Τὸ τῆς ἀνάγκης ἐστ' ἀδήριτον σθένος

Ibid., line 105.]

[67] {50}[Compare--

"The maker--call him Which name thou wilt; he makes but to destroy."

_Cain_, act i. sc. 1.

Compare, too--

"And the Omnipotent, who makes and crushes."

_Heaven and Earth_, Part I. sc. 3.]

[68] [Compare--

Ὄτῳ θανεῖν μέν ἐστιν οὐ πεπρωμένον

_P. V._, line 754.]

[69][Compare--

...πάντα προὐξεπίσταμαι Σκεθρῶς τά μέλλοντα

Ibid., lines 101, 102.]

[70] [Compare--

Θνητοῖς δ' ἀήγων αὐτὸς εὑρόμην πόνους.

Ibid., line 269.]

[71] {51}[Compare--

"But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we, Half dust, half deity."

_Manfred_, act i. sc. 2, lines 39, 40, _vide post_, p. 95.]

[m] ----_and equal to all woes_.--[Editions 1832, etc.]

[72] [The edition of 1832 and subsequent issues read "and equal." It is clear that the earlier reading, "an equal," is correct. The spirit opposed by the spirit is an equal, etc. The spirit can also oppose to "its own funereal destiny" a firm will, etc.]

[73] [_A Fragment_, which remained unpublished till 1830, was written at the same time as _Churchill's Grave_ (July, 1816), and is closely allied to it in purport and in sentiment. It is a questioning of Death! O Death, _what_ is thy sting? There is an analogy between exile end death. As Churchill lay in his forgotten grave at Dover, one of "many millions decomposed to clay," so he the absent is dead to the absent, and the absent are dead to him. And what are the dead? the aggregate of nothingness? or are they a multitude of atoms having neither part nor lot one with the other? There is no solution but in the grave. Death alone can unriddle death. The poet's questioning spirit would plunge into the abyss to bring back the answer.]

[74] {52}[Compare--

"'Tis said thou holdest converse with the things Which are forbidden to the search of man; That with the dwellers of the dark abodes, The many evil and unheavenly spirits Which walk the valley of the Shade of Death, Thou communest."

_Manfred_, act iii. sc. 1, lines 34, seq., _vide post_, p. 121.]

[75] {53}Geneva, Ferney, Copet, Lausanne. [For Rousseau, see _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 277, note 1, 300, 301, note 18; for Voltaire and Gibbon, _vide ibid._, pp. 306, 307, note 22; and for De Staël, see _Letters_, 1898, ii. 223, note 1. Byron, writing to Moore, January 2, 1821, declares, on the authority of Monk Lewis, "who was too great a bore ever to lie," that Madame de Staël alleged this sonnet, "in which she was named with Voltaire, Rousseau, etc.," as a reason for changing her opinion about him--"she could not help it through decency" (_Letters_, 1901, v. 213). It is difficult to believe that Madame de Staël was ashamed of her companions, or was sincere in disclaiming the compliment, though, as might have been expected, the sonnet excited some disapprobation in England. A writer in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ (February, 1818, vol. 88, p. 122) relieved his feelings by a "Retort Addressed to the Thames"--

"Restor'd to my dear native Thames' bank, My soul disgusted spurns a Byron's lay,-- * * * * * Leman may idly boast her Staël, Rousseau, Gibbon, Voltaire, whom Truth and Justice shun-- * * * * * Whilst meekly shines midst Fulham's bowers the sun O'er Sherlock's and o'er Porteus' honour'd graves, Where Thames Britannia's choicest meads exulting laves."]

[76] [Compare--

"Lake Leman woos me with its crystal face."

_Childe Harold_, Canto III. stanza lxviii. line 1, _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 257.]

[n] {54}_Stanzas To_----.--[Editions 1816-1830.]

"Though the Day."--[MS. in Mrs. Leigh's handwriting.]

[77] [The "Stanzas to Augusta" were written in July, at the Campagne Diodati, near Geneva. "Be careful," he says, "in printing the stanzas beginning, 'Though the day of my Destiny's,' etc., which I think well of as a composition."--Letter to Murray, October 5, 1816, _Letters_, 1899, iii. 371.]

[o]

_Though the days of my Glory are over,_ _And the Sun of my fame has declined._--[Dillon MS.]

[p] ----_had painted._--[MS.]

[78] [Compare--

"Dear Nature is the kindest mother still!... To me by day or night she ever smiled."

_Childe Harold_, Canto II. stanza xxxvii. lines 1, 7, _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 122.]

[q] _I will not_----.--[MS. erased.]

[r] {55}_As the breasts I reposed in with me._--[MS.]

[s]

_Though the rock of my young hope is shivered,_ _And its fragments lie sunk in the wave._--[MS. erased.]

[t]

_There is many a pang to pursue me,_ _And many a peril to stem;_ _They may torture, but shall not subdue me;_ _They may crush, but they shall not contemn._--[MS. erased.] _And I think not of thee but of them._--[MS. erased.]

[u] _Though tempted_----.--[MS.]

[79] [Compare _Childe Harold,_ Canto III. stanzas liii., lv., _Poetical Works,_ 1899, ii. 247, 248, note 1.]

[v]

_Though watchful, 'twas but to reclaim me,_ _Nor, silent, to sanction a lie._--[MS.]

[80] {56}[Compare--

"Had I but sooner learnt the crowd to shun, I had been better than I now can be."

_Epistle to Augusta_, stanza xii. lines 5, 6, _vide post_, p. 61.

Compare, too--

"But soon he knew himself the most unfit Of men to herd with Man."

_Childe Harold_, Canto III. stanza xii. lines 1, 2, _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 223.]

[w]

_And more than I then could foresee._ _I have met but the fate that hath crost me._--[MS.]

[x] _In the wreck of the past_--[MS.]

[y]

_In the Desert there still are sweet waters,_ _In the wild waste a sheltering tree._--[MS.]

[81] [Byron often made use of this illustration. Compare--

"My Peri! ever welcome here! Sweet, as the desert fountain's wave."

_The Bride of Abydos_, Canto I. lines 151, 152, _Poetical Works_, 1900, iii. 163.]

[82] [For Hobhouse's parody of these stanzas, see _Letters_, 1900, iv. 73,74.]

[83] {57}[These stanzas--"than which," says the _Quarterly Review_ for January, 1831, "there is nothing, perhaps, more mournfully and desolately beautiful in the whole range of Lord Byron's poetry," were also written at Diodati, and sent home to be published, if Mrs. Leigh should consent. She decided against publication, and the "Epistle" was not printed till 1830. Her first impulse was to withhold her consent to the publication of the "Stanzas to Augusta," as well as the "Epistle," and to say, "Whatever is addressed to me do not publish," but on second thoughts she decided that "the _least objectionable_ line will be _to let them be published_."--See her letters to Murray, November 1, 8, 1816, _Letters_, 1899, iii. 366, note 1.]

[z]

_Go where thou wilt thou art to me the same_-- _A loud regret which I would not resign_.--[MS.]

[84] [Compare--

"Oh! that the Desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair Spirit for my minister!"

_Childe Harold_, Canto IV. stanza clxxvii. lines 1, 2, _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 456.]

[aa] _But other cares_----.--[MS.]

[ab] _A strange doom hath been ours, but that is past_.--[MS.]

[85] ["Admiral Byron was remarkable for never making a voyage without a tempest. He was known to the sailors by the facetious name of 'Foul-weather Jack' [or 'Hardy Byron'].

"'But, though it were tempest-toss'd, Still his bark could not be lost.'

He returned safely from the wreck of the _Wager_ (in Anson's voyage), and many years after circumnavigated the world, as commander of a similar expedition" (Moore). Admiral the Hon. John Byron (1723-1786), next brother to William, fifth Lord Byron, published his _Narrative_ of his shipwreck in the _Wager_ in 1768, and his _Voyage round the World_ in the _Dolphin_, in 1767 (_Letters_, 1898, i. 3).]

[ac] {58}

_I am not yet o'erwhelmed that I shall ever lean_ _A thought upon such Hope as daily mocks_.--[MS. erased.]

[86] [For Byron's belief in predestination, compare _Childe Harold_,

## Canto I. stanza lxxxiii. line 9, _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 74, note

1.]

[ad] {59}_For to all such may change of soul refer_.--[MS.]

[ae]

_Have hardened me to this--but I can see_ _Things which I still can love--but none like thee_.--[MS. erased.]

[af]

{_Before I had to study far more useless books_.--[MS. erased,] {_Ere my young mind was fettered down to books_.

[ag] _Some living things_-----.--[MS.]

[87] [Compare--

"Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt In solitude, when we are _least_ alone."

_Childe Harold_, Canto III. stanza xc. lines 1, 2, _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 272]

[88] {60}[For a description of the lake at Newstead, see _Don Juan_,

## Canto XIII. stanza lvii.]

[ah] _And think of such things with a childish eye._--[MS.]

[89] {61}[Compare--

"He who first met the Highland's swelling blue, Will love each peak, that shows a kindred hue, Hail in each crag a friend's familiar face, And clasp the mountain in his mind's embrace."

_The Island_, Canto II. stanza xii. lines 9-12.

His "friends are mountains." He comes back to them as to a "holier land," where he may find not happiness, but peace.

Moore was inclined to attribute Byron's "love of mountain prospects" in his childhood to the "after-result of his imaginative recollections of that period," but (as Wilson, commenting on Moore, suggests) it is easier to believe that the "high instincts" of the "poetic child" did not wait for association to consecrate the vision (_Life_, p. 8).]

[ai]

_The earliest were the only paths for me._ _The earliest were the paths and meant for me._--[MS. erased.]

[aj]

_Yet could I but expunge from out the book_ _Of my existence all that was entwined._--[MS. erased.]

[ak]

_My life has been too long--if in a day_ _I have survived_----.--[MS. erased.]

[90] {62}[Byron often insists on this compression of life into a yet briefer span than even mortality allows. Compare--

"He, who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life," etc.

_Childe Harold_, Canto III. stanza v. lines 1, 2, _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 218, note 1.

Compare, too--

"My life is not dated by years-- There are moments which act as a plough," etc.

_Lines to the Countess of Blessington_, stanza 4.]

[al] _And for the remnants_----.--[MS.]

[am] _Whate'er betide_----.--[MS.]

[an] _We have been and we shall be_----.--[MS. erased.]

[91] {63}["These verses," says John Wright (ed. 1832, x. 207), "of which the opening lines (1-6) are given in Moore's _Notices_, etc. (1830, ii. 36), were written immediately after the failure of the negotiation ... [i.e. the intervention] of Madame de Staël, who had persuaded Byron 'to write a letter to a friend in England, declaring himself still willing to be reconciled to Lady Byron' (_Life_, p. 321), but were not intended for the public eye." The verses were written in September, and it is evident that since the composition of _The Dream_ in July, another "change had come over" his spirit, and that the mild and courteous depreciation of his wife as "a gentle bride," etc., had given place to passionate reproach and bitter reviling. The failure of Madame de Staël's negotiations must have been to some extent anticipated, and it is more reasonable to suppose that it was a rumour or report of the "one serious calumny" of Shelley's letter of September 29, 1816, which provoked him to fury, and drove him into the open maledictions of _The Incantation_ (published together with the _Prisoner of Chillon_, but afterwards incorporated with _Manfred_, act i. sc. 1, _vide post_, p. 91), and the suppressed "lines," written, so he told Lady Blessington (_Conversations, etc._, 1834, p. 79) "on reading in a newspaper" that Lady Byron had been ill.]

[92] [Compare--

" ... that unnatural retribution--just, Had it but been from hands less near."

_Childe Harold_, Canto IV. stanza cxxxii. lines 6, 7, _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 427.]

[93] {64}[Compare--

"Though thy slumber may be deep, Yet thy Spirit shall not sleep.

* * * * *

Nor to slumber nor to die, Shall be in thy destiny."

_The Incantation_, lines 201, 202, 254, 255, _Manfred_,

## act i. sc. 1, _vide post_, pp. 92, 93.]

[94] [Compare "I suppose now I shall never be able to shake off my sables in public imagination, more particularly since my moral ... [Clytemnestra?] clove down my fame" (Letter to Moore, March 10, 1817, _Letters_, 1900, iv. 72). The same expression, "my _moral_ Clytemnestra," is applied to his wife in a letter to Lord Blessington, dated April 6, 1823. It may be noted that it was in April, 1823, that Byron presented a copy of the "Lines," etc., to Lady Blessington (_Conversations, etc._, 1834, p. 79).]

[95] {65}[Compare--

"By thy delight in others' pain."

_Manfred_, act i. sc. i, line 248, _vide post_, p. 93.]

[96] [Compare--

" ... but that high Soul secured the heart, And panted for the truth it could not hear."

_A Sketch_, lines 18, 19, _Poetical Works_, 1900, iii. 541.]

[97] [Compare _Childe Harold_, Canto IV. stanza cxxxvi. lines 6-9, _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 430.]

MONODY ON THE DEATH

OF

THE RIGHT HON. R. B. SHERIDAN.

INTRODUCTION TO _MONODY ON THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT HON. R. B. SHERIDAN._

When Moore was engaged on the Life of Sheridan, Byron gave him some advice. "Never mind," he says, "the angry lies of the humbug Whigs. Recollect that he was an Irishman and a clever fellow, and that we have had some very pleasant days with him. Don't forget that he was at school at Harrow, where, in my time, we used to show his name--R. B. Sheridan, 1765--as an honour to the walls. Depend upon it that there were worse folks going, of that gang, than ever Sheridan was" (Letter to Moore, September 19, 1818, _Letters_, 1900, iv. 261).

It does not appear that Byron had any acquaintance with Sheridan when he wrote the one unrejected Address which was spoken at the opening of Drury Lane Theatre, October 10, 1812, but that he met him for the first time at a dinner which Rogers gave to Byron and Moore, on or before June 1, 1813. Thenceforward, as long as he remained in England (see his letter to Rogers, April 16, 1816, _Letters,_ 1899, iii 281, note 1), he was often in his company, "sitting late, drinking late," not, of course, on terms of equality and friendship (for Sheridan was past sixty, and Byron more than thirty years younger), but of the closest and pleasantest intimacy. To judge from the tone of the letter to Moore (_vide supra_) and of numerous entries in his diaries, during Sheridan's life and after his death, he was at pains not to pass judgment on a man whom he greatly admired and sincerely pitied, and whom he felt that he had no right to despise. Body and soul, Byron was of different stuff from Sheridan, and if he "had lived to his age," he would have passed over "the red-hot ploughshares" of life and conduct, not unscathed, but stoutly and unconsumed. So much easier is it to live down character than to live through temperament.

Richard Brinsley Sheridan (born October 30, 1751) died July 7, 1816. _The Monody_ was written at the Campagne Diodati, on July 17, at the request of Douglas Kinnaird. "I did as well as I could," says Byron; "but where I have not my choice I pretend to answer for nothing" (Letter to Murray, September 29, 1816, _Letters_, 1899, iii. 366). He told Lady Blessington, however, that his "feelings were never more excited than while writing it, and that every word came direct from the heart" (_Conversations, etc._, p. 241).

The MS., in the handwriting of Claire, is headed, "Written at the request of D. Kinnaird, Esq., Monody on R. B. Sheridan. Intended to be spoken at Dy. L^e.^ T. Diodati, Lake of Geneva, July 18^th^, 1816. Byron."

The first edition was entitled _Monody on the Death of the Right Honourable R.B. Sheridan_. Written at the request of a Friend. To be spoken at Drury Lane Theatre, London. Printed for John Murray, Albemarle Street, 1816.

It was spoken by Mrs. Davison at Drury Lane Theatre, September 7, and published September 9, 1816.

When the _Monody_ arrived at Diodati Byron fell foul of the title-page: "'The request of a Friend:'--

'Obliged by Hunger and request of friends.'

"I will request you to expunge that same, unless you please to add, 'by a person of quality, or of wit and honour about town.' Merely say, 'written to be spoken at D[rury] L[ane]'" (Letter to Murray, September 30, 1816, _Letters,_ 1899, iii. 367). The first edition had been issued, and no alteration could be made, but the title-page of a "New Edition," 1817, reads, "_Monody, etc._ Spoken at Drury Lane Theatre. By Lord Byron."]

MONODY ON THE DEATH

OF THE

RIGHT HON. R. B. SHERIDAN,

SPOKEN AT DRURY-LANE THEATRE, LONDON.

When the last sunshine of expiring Day In Summer's twilight weeps itself away, Who hath not felt the softness of the hour Sink on the heart, as dew along the flower? With a pure feeling which absorbs and awes While Nature makes that melancholy pause-- Her breathing moment on the bridge where Time Of light and darkness forms an arch sublime-- Who hath not shared that calm, so still and deep, The voiceless thought which would not speak but weep, 10 A holy concord, and a bright regret, A glorious sympathy with suns that set?[98] 'Tis not harsh sorrow, but a tenderer woe, Nameless, but dear to gentle hearts below, Felt without bitterness--but full and clear, A sweet dejection--a transparent tear, Unmixed with worldly grief or selfish stain-- Shed without shame, and secret without pain. Even as the tenderness that hour instils When Summer's day declines along the hills, 20 So feels the fulness of our heart and eyes When all of Genius which can perish dies. A mighty Spirit is eclipsed--a Power Hath passed from day to darkness--to whose hour Of light no likeness is bequeathed--no name, Focus at once of all the rays of Fame! The flash of Wit--the bright Intelligence, The beam of Song--the blaze of Eloquence, Set with their Sun, but still have left behind The enduring produce of immortal Mind; 30 Fruits of a genial morn, and glorious noon, A deathless part of him who died too soon. But small that portion of the wondrous whole, These sparkling segments of that circling Soul, Which all embraced, and lightened over all, To cheer--to pierce--to please--or to appal. From the charmed council to the festive board, Of human feelings the unbounded lord; In whose acclaim the loftiest voices vied, The praised--the proud--who made his praise their pride. 40 When the loud cry of trampled Hindostan Arose to Heaven in her appeal from Man, His was the thunder--his the avenging rod, The wrath--the delegated voice of God! Which shook the nations through his lips, and blazed Till vanquished senates trembled as they praised.[99]

And here, oh! here, where yet all young and warm, The gay creations of his spirit charm,[100] The matchless dialogue--the deathless wit, Which knew not what it was to intermit; 50 The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring; These wondrous beings of his fancy, wrought To fulness by the fiat of his thought, Here in their first abode you still may meet, Bright with the hues of his Promethean heat; A Halo of the light of other days, Which still the splendour of its orb betrays. But should there be to whom the fatal blight Of failing Wisdom yields a base delight, 60 Men who exult when minds of heavenly tone Jar in the music which was born their own, Still let them pause--ah! little do they know That what to them seemed Vice might be but Woe. Hard is his fate on whom the public gaze Is fixed for ever to detract or praise; Repose denies her requiem to his name, And Folly loves the martyrdom of Fame. The secret Enemy whose sleepless eye Stands sentinel--accuser--judge--and spy. 70 The foe, the fool, the jealous, and the vain, The envious who but breathe in other's pain-- Behold the host! delighting to deprave, Who track the steps of Glory to the grave, Watch every fault that daring Genius owes Half to the ardour which its birth bestows, Distort the truth, accumulate the lie, And pile the Pyramid of Calumny! These are his portion--but if joined to these Gaunt Poverty should league with deep Disease, 80 If the high Spirit must forget to soar, And stoop to strive with Misery at the door,[101] To soothe Indignity--and face to face Meet sordid Rage, and wrestle with Disgrace, To find in Hope but the renewed caress, The serpent-fold of further Faithlessness:-- If such may be the Ills which men assail, What marvel if at last the mightiest fail? Breasts to whom all the strength of feeling given Bear hearts electric-charged with fire from Heaven, 90 Black with the rude collision, inly torn, By clouds surrounded, and on whirlwinds borne, Driven o'er the lowering atmosphere that nurst Thoughts which have turned to thunder--scorch, and burst.[ao]

But far from us and from our mimic scene Such things should be--if such have ever been; Ours be the gentler wish, the kinder task, To give the tribute Glory need not ask, To mourn the vanished beam, and add our mite Of praise in payment of a long delight. 100 Ye Orators! whom yet our councils yield, Mourn for the veteran Hero of your field! The worthy rival of the wondrous _Three!_[102] Whose words were sparks of Immortality! Ye Bards! to whom the Drama's Muse is dear, He was your Master--emulate him _here_! Ye men of wit and social eloquence![103] He was your brother--bear his ashes hence! While Powers of mind almost of boundless range,[104] Complete in kind, as various in their change, 110 While Eloquence--Wit--Poesy--and Mirth, That humbler Harmonist of care on Earth, Survive within our souls--while lives our sense Of pride in Merit's proud pre-eminence, Long shall we seek his likeness--long in vain, And turn to all of him which may remain, Sighing that Nature formed but one such man, And broke the die--in moulding Sheridan![105]

FOOTNOTES:

[98] {71}[Compare--

"As 'twere the twilight of a former Sun."

_Churchill's Grave,_ line 26, _vide ante,_ p. 48.]

[99] {72}[Sheridan's first speech on behalf of the Begum of Oude was delivered February 7, 1787. After having spoken for five hours and forty minutes he sat down, "not merely amidst cheering, but amidst the loud clapping of hands, in which the Lords below the bar and the strangers in the Gallery joined" (_Critical ... Essays,_ by T. B. Macaulay, 1843, iii. 443). So great was the excitement that Pitt moved the adjournment of the House. The next year, during the trial of Warren Hastings, he took part in the debates on June 3,6,10,13, 1788. "The conduct of the part of the case relating to the Princesses of Oude was intrusted to Sheridan. The curiosity of the public to hear him was unbounded.... It was said that fifty guineas had been paid for a single ticket. Sheridan, when he concluded, contrived ... to sink back, as if exhausted, into the arms of Burke, who hugged him with the energy of generous admiration" (_ibid.,_iii 451, 452).]

[100] [_The Rivals, The Scheming Lieutenant_, and _The Duenna_ were played for the first time at Covent Garden, January 17, May 2, and November 21, 1775. _A Trip to Scarborough_ and the _School for Scandal_ were brought out at Drury Lane, February 24 and May 8, 1777; the _Critic_, October 29, 1779; and _Pizarro_, May 24, 1799.]

[101] {73}[Only a few days before his death, Sheridan wrote thus to Rogers: "I am absolutely undone and broken-hearted. They are going to put the carpets out of window, and break into Mrs. S.'s room and _take me_. For God's sake let me see you!" (Moore's _Life of Sheridan_, 1825, ii. 455).

The extent and duration of Sheridan's destitution at the time of his last illness and death have been the subject of controversy. The statements in Moore's _Life_ (1825) moved George IV. to send for Croker and dictate a long and circumstantial harangue, to the effect that Sheridan and his wife were starving, and that their immediate necessities were relieved by the (then) Prince Regent's agent, Taylor Vaughan (Croker's _Correspondence and Diaries_, 1884, i. 288-312). Mr. Fraser Rae, in his _Life of Sheridan_ (1896, ii. 284), traverses the king's apology in almost every particular, and quotes a letter from Charles Sheridan to his half-brother Tom, dated July 16, 1816, in which he says that his father "almost slumbered into death, and that the reports ... in the newspapers (_vide_, e.g., _Morning Chronicle_, July, 1816) of the privations and want of comforts were unfounded."

Moore's sentiments were also expressed in "some verses" (_Lines on the Death of SH--R--D--N_), which were published in the newspapers, and are reprinted in the _Life_, 1825, ii. 462, and _Poetical Works_, 1850, p. 400--

"How proud they can press to the funeral array Of one whom they shunned in his sickness and sorrow! How bailiffs may seize his last blanket to-day, Whose pall shall be held up by nobles to-morrow.

* * * * *

Was _this_, then, the fate of that high-gifted man, The pride of the palace, the bower, and the hall, The orator--dramatist--minstrel, who ran Through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all?"]

[ao] {74}

_Abandoned by the skies, whose teams have nurst_ _Their very thunders, lighten--scorch, and burst_.--[MS.]

[102] {75}Fox--Pitt--Burke. ["I heard Sheridan only once, and that briefly; but I liked his voice, his manner, and his wit: he is the only one of them I ever wished to hear at greater length."--_Detached Thoughts_, 1821, _Letters_, 1901, v. 413.]

[103] ["In society I have met Sheridan frequently: he was superb!... I have seen him cut up Whitbread, quiz Madame de Staël, annihilate Colman, and do little less by some others ... of good fame and abilities.... I have met him in all places and parties, ... and always found him very convivial and delightful."--_Ibid_., pp. 413, 414.]

[104] ["The other night we were all delivering our respective and various opinions on him, ... and mine was this:--'Whatever Sheridan has done or chosen to do has been, _par excellence_, always the _best_ of its kind. He has written the _best_ comedy (_School for Scandal_), the _best_ drama (in my mind, far before that St. Giles's lampoon, the _Beggars Opera_), the best farce (the _Critic_--it is only too good for a farce), and the best Address ('Monologue on Garrick'), and, to crown all, delivered the very best Oration (the famous Begum Speech) ever conceived or heard in this country.'"--_Journal_, December 17, 1813, _Letters_, 1898, ii. 377.]

[105] [It has often been pointed out (_e.g. Notes and Queries_, 1855, Series I. xi. 472) that this fine metaphor may be traced to Ariosto's _Orlando Furioso_. The subject is Zerbino, the son of the King of Scotland--

"Non è vu si bello in tante altre persone: Natura il fece e poi ruppe la stampa."

## Canto X. stanza lxxxiv. lines 5, 6.]

MANFRED:

A DRAMATIC POEM.

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy." [_Hamlet,_ Act i. Scene 5, Lines 166, 167.

[_Manfred_, a choral tragedy in three acts, was performed at Covent Garden Theatre, October 29-November 14, 1834 [Denvil (afterwards known as "Manfred" Denvil) took the part of "Manfred," and Miss Ellen Tree (afterwards Mrs. Charles Kean) played "The Witch of the Alps"]; at Drury Lane Theatre, October 10, 1863-64 [Phelps played "Manfred," Miss Rosa Le Clercq "The Phantom of Astarte," and Miss Heath "The Witch of the Alps"]; at the Prince's Theatre, Manchester, March 27-April 20, 1867 [Charles Calvert played "Manfred"]; and again, in 1867, under the same management, at the Royal Alexandra Theatre, Liverpool; and at the Princess's Theatre Royal, London, August 16, 1873 [Charles Dillon played "Manfred;" music by Sir Henry Bishop, as in 1834].

_Overtures, etc._

"Music to Byron's _Manfred_" (overture and incidental music and choruses), by R. Schumann, 1850.

"Incidental Music," composed, in 1897, by Sir Alexander Campbell Mackenzie (at the request of Sir Henry Irving); heard (in part only) at a concert in Queen's Hall, May, 1899.

"_Manfred_ Symphony" (four tableaux after the Poem by Byron), composed by Tschaikowsky, 1885; first heard in London, autumn, 1898.]

INTRODUCTION TO _MANFRED_

Byron passed four months and three weeks in Switzerland. He arrived at the Hôtel d'Angleterre at Sécheron, on Saturday, May 25, and he left the Campagne Diodati for Italy on Sunday, October 6, 1816. Within that period he wrote the greater part of the Third Canto of _Childe Harold_, he began and finished the _Prisoner of Chillon_, its seven attendant poems, and the _Monody_ on the death of Sheridan, and he began _Manfred_.

A note to the "Incantation" (_Manfred_, act i. sc. 1, lines 192-261), which was begun in July and published together with the _Prisoner of Chillon_, December 5, 1816, records the existence of "an unfinished Witch Drama" (First Edition, p. 46); but, apart from this, the first announcement of his new work is contained in a letter to Murray, dated Venice, February 15, 1817 (_Letters_, 1900, iv. 52). "I forgot," he writes, "to mention to you that a kind of Poem in dialogue (in blank verse) or drama ... begun last summer in Switzerland, is finished; it is in three acts; but of a very wild, metaphysical, and inexplicable kind." The letter is imperfect, but some pages of "extracts" which were forwarded under the same cover have been preserved. Ten days later (February 25) he reverts to these "extracts," and on February 28 he despatches a fair copy of the first act. On March 9 he remits the third and final act of his "dramatic poem" (a definition adopted as a second title), but under reserve as to publication, and with a strict injunction to Murray "to submit it to Mr. G[ifford] and to whomsoever you please besides." It is certain that this third act was written at Venice (Letter to Murray, April 14), and it may be taken for granted that the composition of the first two acts belongs to the tour in the Bernese Alps (September 17-29), or to the last days at Diodati (September 30 to October 5, 1816), when the _estro_ (see Letter to Murray, January 2, 1817) was upon him, when his "Passions slept," and, in spite of all that had come and gone and could not go, his spirit was uplifted by the "majesty and the power and the glory" of Nature.

Gifford's verdict on the first act was that it was "wonderfully poetical" and "merited publication," but, as Byron had foreseen, he did not "by any means like" the third act. It was, as its author admitted (Letter to Murray, April 14) "damnably bad," and savoured of the "dregs of a fever," for which the Carnival (Letter to Murray, February 28) or, more probably, the climate and insanitary "palaces" of Venice were responsible. Some weeks went by before there was either leisure or inclination for the task of correction, but at Rome the _estro_ returned in full force, and on May 5 a "new third act of _Manfred_--the greater part rewritten," was sent by post to England. _Manfred, a Dramatic Poem_, was published June 16, 1817.

_Manfred_ was criticized by Jeffrey in the _Edinburgh Review_ (No. lvi., August, 1817, vol. 28, pp. 418-431), and by John Wilson in the _Edinburgh Monthly Magazine_ (afterwards _Blackwood's, etc._) (June, 1817, i. 289-295). Jeffrey, as Byron remarked (Letter to Murray, October 12, 1817), was "very kind," and Wilson, whose article "had all the air of being a poet's," was eloquent in its praises. But there was a fly in the ointment. "A suggestion" had been thrown out, "in an ingenious paper in a late number of the _Edinburgh Magazine_ [signed H. M. (John Wilson), July, 1817], that the general conception of this piece, and much of what is excellent in the manner of its execution, have been borrowed from the _Tragical History of Dr. Faustus_ of Marlow (_sic_);" and from this contention Jeffrey dissented. A note to a second paper on Marlowe's _Edward II_. (_Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine_, October, 1817) offered explanations, and echoed Jeffrey's exaltation of _Manfred_ above _Dr. Faustus_; but the mischief had been done. Byron was evidently perplexed and distressed, not by the papers in _Blackwood_, which he never saw, but by Jeffrey's remonstrance in his favour; and in the letter of October 12 he is at pains to trace the "evolution" of _Manfred_. "I never read," he writes, "and do not know that I ever saw the _Faustus_ of Marlow;" and, again, "As to the _Faustus_ of Marlow, I never read, never saw, nor heard of it." "I heard Mr. Lewis translate verbally some scenes of Goethe's _Faust_ ... last summer" (see, too, Letter to Rogers, April 4, 1817), which is all I know of the history of that magical personage; and as to the germs of _Manfred_, they may be found in the Journal which I sent to Mrs. Leigh ... when I went over first the Dent, etc., ... shortly before I left Switzerland. I have the whole scene of _Manfred_ before me."

Again, three years later he writes (_à propos_ of Goethe's review of _Manfred_, which first appeared in print in his paper _Kunst und Alterthum_, June, 1820, and is republished in Goethe's _Sämmtliche Werke_ ... Stuttgart, 1874, xiii. 640-642; see _Letters_, 1901, v. Appendix II. "Goethe and Byron," pp. 503-521): "His _Faust_ I never read, for I don't know German; but Matthew Monk Lewis (_sic_), in 1816, at Coligny, translated most of it to me _viva voce_, and I was naturally much struck with it; but it was the _Staubach_ (_sic_) and the _Jungfrau_, and something else, much more than Faustus, that made me write _Manfred_. The first scene, however, and that of Faustus are very similar" (Letter to Murray, June 7, 1820, _Letters_, 1901, v. 36). Medwin (_Conversations, etc._, pp. 210, 211), who of course had not seen the letters to Murray of 1817 or 1820, puts much the same story into Byron's mouth.

Now, with regard to the originality of _Manfred_, it may be taken for granted that Byron knew nothing about the "Faust-legend," or the "Faust-cycle." He solemnly denies that he had ever read Marlowe's _Faustus_, or the selections from the play in Lamb's _Specimens, etc._ (see Medwin's _Conversations, etc._, pp. 208, 209, and a hitherto unpublished Preface to _Werner_, vol. v.), and it is highly improbable that he knew anything of Calderon's _El Mágico Prodigioso_, which Shelley translated in 1822, or of "the beggarly elements" of the legend in Hroswitha's _Lapsus et Conversio Theophrasti Vice-domini_. But Byron's _Manfred_ is "in the succession" of scholars who have reached the limits of natural and legitimate science, and who essay the supernatural in order to penetrate and comprehend the "hidden things of darkness." A predecessor, if not a progenitor, he must have had, and there can be no doubt whatever that the primary conception of the character, though by no means the inspiration of the poem, is to be traced to the "Monk's" oral rendering of Goethe's _Faust_, which he gave in return for his "bread and salt" at Diodati. Neither Jeffrey nor Wilson mentioned _Faust_, but the writer of the notice in the _Critical Review_ (June, 1817, series v. vol. 5, pp. 622-629) avowed that "this scene (the first) is a gross plagiary from a great poet whom Lord Byron has imitated on former occasions without comprehending. Goethe's _Faust_ begins in the same way;" and Goethe himself, in a letter to his friend Knebel, October, 1817, and again in his review in _Kunst und Alterthum_, June, 1820, emphasizes whilst he justifies and applauds the use which Byron had made of his work. "This singular intellectual poet has taken my _Faustus_ to himself, and extracted from it the strangest nourishment for his hypochondriac humour. He has made use of the impelling principles in his own way, for his own purposes, so that no one of them remains the same; and it is particularly on this account that I cannot enough admire his genius." Afterwards (see record of a conversation with Herman Fürst von Pückler, September 14, 1826, _Letters_, v. 511) Goethe somewhat modified his views, but even then it interested him to trace the unconscious transformation which Byron had made of his Mephistopheles. It is, perhaps, enough to say that the link between _Manfred_ and _Faust_ is formal, not spiritual. The problem which Goethe raised but did not solve, his counterfeit presentment of the eternal issue between soul and sense, between innocence and renunciation on the one side, and achievement and satisfaction on the other, was not the struggle which Byron experienced in himself or desired to depict in his mysterious hierarch of the powers of nature. "It was the _Staubach_ and the _Jungfrau_, and something else," not the influence of _Faust_ on a receptive listener, which called up a new theme, and struck out a fresh well-spring of the imagination. The _motif_ of _Manfred_ is remorse--eternal suffering for inexpiable crime. The sufferer is for ever buoyed up with the hope that there is relief somewhere in nature, beyond nature, above nature, and experience replies with an everlasting No! As the sunshine enhances sorrow, so Nature, by the force of contrast, reveals and enhances guilt. _Manfred_ is no echo of another's questioning, no expression of a general world-weariness on the part of the time-spirit, but a personal outcry: "De profundis clamavi!"

No doubt, apart from this main purport and essence of his song, his sensitive spirit responded to other and fainter influences. There are "points of resemblance," as Jeffrey pointed out and Byron proudly admitted, between _Manfred_ and the _Prometheus_ of Æschylus. Plainly, here and there, "the tone and pitch of the composition," and "the victim in the more solemn parts," are Æschylean. Again, with regard to the supernatural, there was the stimulus of the conversation of the Shelleys and of Lewis, brimful of magic and ghost-lore; and lastly, there was the glamour of _Christabel_, "the wild and original" poem which had taken Byron captive, and was often in his thoughts and on his lips. It was no wonder that the fuel kindled and burst into a flame.

For the text of Goethe's review of _Manfred_, and Hoppner's translation of that review, and an account of Goethe's relation with Byron, drawn from Professor A. Brandl's _Goethes Verhältniss zu Byron (Goethe-Jahrbuch, Zwanzigster Band_, 1899), and other sources, see _Letters_, 1901, v. Appendix II. pp. 503-521.

For contemporary and other notices of _Manfred_, in addition to those already mentioned, see _Eclectic Review_, July, 1817, New Series, vol. viii. pp. 62-66; _Gentleman's Magazine_, July, 1817, vol. 87, pp. 45-47; _Monthly Review_, July, 1817, Enlarged Series, vol. 83, pp. 300-307; _Dublin University Magazine_, April, 1874, vol. 83, pp. 502-508, etc.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Manfred. Chamois Hunter. Abbot of St. Maurice. Manuel. Herman.

Witch of the Alps. Arimanes. Nemesis. The Destinies. Spirits, etc.

_The Scene of the Drama is amongst the Higher Alps--partly in the Castle of Manfred, and partly in the Mountains._

MANFRED.[106]

## ACT 1.

## SCENE 1.--Manfred _alone_.--_Scene, a Gothic Gallery._[107]--

_Time, Midnight._

_Man_. The lamp must be replenished, but even then It will not burn so long as I must watch: My slumbers--if I slumber--are not sleep, But a continuance, of enduring thought, Which then I can resist not: in my heart There is a vigil, and these eyes but close To look within; and yet I live, and bear The aspect and the form of breathing men. But Grief should be the Instructor of the wise; Sorrow is Knowledge: they who know the most 10 Must mourn the deepest o'er the fatal truth, The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life. Philosophy and science, and the springs[108] Of Wonder, and the wisdom of the World, I have essayed, and in my mind there is A power to make these subject to itself-- But they avail not: I have done men good, And I have met with good even among men-- But this availed not: I have had my foes, And none have baffled, many fallen before me-- 20 But this availed not:--Good--or evil--life-- Powers, passions--all I see in other beings, Have been to me as rain unto the sands, Since that all-nameless hour. 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.-- Mysterious Agency! Ye Spirits of the unbounded Universe![ap] Whom I have sought in darkness and in light-- 30 Ye, who do compass earth about, and dwell In subtler essence--ye, to whom the tops Of mountains inaccessible are haunts,[aq] And Earth's and Ocean's caves familiar things-- I call upon ye by the written charm[109] Which gives me power upon you--Rise! Appear! [A pause. They come not yet.--Now by the voice of him Who is the first among you[110]--by this sign, Which makes you tremble--by the claims of him Who is undying,--Rise! Appear!----Appear! 40 [A pause. If it be so.--Spirits of Earth and Air, Ye shall not so elude me! By a power, Deeper than all yet urged, a tyrant-spell, Which had its birthplace in a star condemned, The burning wreck of a demolished world, A wandering hell in the eternal Space; By the strong curse which is upon my Soul,[111] The thought which is within me and around me, I do compel ye to my will.--Appear!

[_A star is seen at the darker end of the gallery: it is stationary; and a voice is heard singing._]

First Spirit.

Mortal! to thy bidding bowed, 50 From my mansion in the cloud, Which the breath of Twilight builds, And the Summer's sunset gilds With the azure and vermilion, Which is mixed for my pavilion;[ar] Though thy quest may be forbidden, On a star-beam I have ridden, To thine adjuration bowed: Mortal--be thy wish avowed!

_Voice of the_ Second Spirit.

Mont Blanc is the Monarch of mountains; 60 They crowned him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a Diadem of snow. Around his waist are forests braced, The Avalanche in his hand; But ere it fall, that thundering ball Must pause for my command. The Glacier's cold and restless mass Moves onward day by day; But I am he who bids it pass, 70 Or with its ice delay.[as] I am the Spirit of the place, Could make the mountain bow And quiver to his caverned base-- And what with me would'st _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 80 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 rolled-- To the Spirit of Ocean Thy wishes unfold!

FOURTH SPIRIT.

Where the slumbering Earthquake Lies pillowed on fire, And the lakes of bitumen 90 Rise boilingly higher; Where the roots of the Andes Strike deep in the earth, As their summits to heaven Shoot soaringly forth; I have quitted my birthplace, Thy bidding to bide-- Thy spell hath subdued me, Thy will be my guide!

FIFTH SPIRIT.

I am the Rider of the wind, 100 The Stirrer of the storm; The hurricane I left behind Is yet with lightning warm; To speed to thee, o'er shore and sea I swept upon the blast: The fleet I met sailed well--and yet 'Twill sink ere night be past.

SIXTH SPIRIT.

My dwelling is the shadow of the Night, Why doth thy magic torture me with light?

SEVENTH SPIRIT.

The Star which rules thy destiny no 110 Was ruled, ere earth began, by me: It was a World as fresh and fair As e'er revolved round Sun in air; Its course was free and regular, Space bosomed not a lovelier star. The Hour arrived--and it became A wandering mass of shapeless flame, A pathless Comet, and a curse, The menace of the Universe; Still rolling on with innate force, 120 Without a sphere, without a course, A bright deformity on high, The monster of the upper sky! And Thou! beneath its influence born-- Thou worm! whom I obey and scorn-- Forced by a Power (which is not thine, And lent thee but to make thee mine) For this brief moment to descend, Where these weak Spirits round thee bend And parley with a thing like thee-- 130 What would'st thou, Child of Clay! with me?[112]

_The_ SEVEN SPIRITS.

Earth--ocean--air--night--mountains--winds--thy Star, Are at thy beck and bidding, Child of Clay! Before thee at thy quest their Spirits are-- What would'st thou with us, Son of mortals--say?

_Man_. Forgetfulness----

_First Spirit_. 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 140 O'er earth--the whole, or portion--or a sign Which shall control the elements, whereof We are the dominators,--each and all, These shall be thine.

_Man_. Oblivion--self-oblivion! Can ye not wring from out the hidden realms Ye offer so profusely--what I ask?

_Spirit_. It is not in our essence, in our skill; But--thou may'st die.

_Man_. Will Death bestow it on me?

_Spirit_. We are immortal, and do not forget; We are eternal; and to us the past 150 Is, as the future, present. Art thou answered?

_Man_. Ye mock me--but the Power which brought ye here Hath made you mine. Slaves, scoff not at my will! The Mind--the Spirit--the Promethean spark,[at] The lightning of my being, is as bright, Pervading, and far darting as your own, And shall not yield to yours, though cooped in clay! Answer, or I will teach you what I am.[au]

_Spirit_. We answer--as we answered; our reply Is even in thine own words.

_Man_. Why say ye so? 160

_Spirit_. If, as thou say'st, thine essence be as ours, We have replied in telling thee, the thing Mortals call death hath nought to do with us.

_Man_. I then have called ye from your realms in vain; Ye cannot, or ye will not, aid me.

_Spirit_. Say--[113] What we possess we offer; it is thine: Bethink ere thou dismiss us; ask again; Kingdom, and sway, and strength, and length of days--

_Man_. Accurséd! what have I to do with days? They are too long already.--Hence--begone! 170

_Spirit_. Yet pause: being here, our will would do thee service; Bethink thee, is there then no other gift Which we can make not worthless in thine eyes?

_Man._ No, none: yet stay--one moment, ere we part, I would behold ye face to face. I hear Your voices, sweet and melancholy sounds, As Music on the waters;[114] and I see The steady aspect of a clear large Star; But nothing more. Approach me as ye are, Or one--or all--in your accustomed forms. 180

_Spirit_. We have no forms, beyond the elements Of which we are the mind and principle: But choose a form--in that we will appear.

_Man_. I have no choice; there is no form on earth Hideous or beautiful to me. Let him, Who is most powerful of ye, take such aspect As unto him may seem most fitting--Come!

_Seventh Spirit (appearing in the shape of a beautiful female figure)_.[115] Behold!

_Man_. Oh God! if it be thus, and _thou_[116] Art not a madness and a mockery, I yet might be most happy. I will clasp thee, 190 And we again will be---- [_The figure vanishes._ My heart is crushed! [MANFRED _falls senseless_.

(_A voice is heard in the Incantation which follows._)[117]

When the Moon is on the wave, And the glow-worm in the grass, And the meteor on the grave, And the wisp on the morass;[118] When the falling stars are shooting, And the answered owls are hooting, And the silent leaves are still In the shadow of the hill, Shall my soul be upon thine, 200 With a power and with a sign.

Though thy slumber may be deep, Yet thy Spirit shall not sleep; There are shades which will not vanish, There are thoughts thou canst not banish; By a Power to thee unknown, Thou canst never be alone; Thou art wrapt as with a shroud, Thou art gathered in a cloud; And for ever shalt thou dwell 210 In the spirit of this spell.

Though thou seest me not pass by, Thou shalt feel me with thine eye As a thing that, though unseen, Must be near thee, and hath been; And when in that secret dread Thou hast turned around thy head, Thou shalt marvel I am not As thy shadow on the spot, And the power which thou dost feel 220 Shall be what thou must conceal.

And a magic voice and verse Hath baptized thee with a curse; And a Spirit of the air Hath begirt thee with a snare; In the wind there is a voice Shall forbid thee to rejoice; And to thee shall Night deny All the quiet of her sky; And the day shall have a sun, 230 Which shall make thee wish it done.

From thy false tears I did distil An essence which hath strength to kill; From thy own heart I then did wring The black blood in its blackest spring; From thy own smile I snatched the snake, For there it coiled as in a brake; From thy own lip I drew the charm Which gave all these their chiefest harm; In proving every poison known, 240 I found the strongest was thine own.

By the cold breast and serpent smile, By thy unfathomed gulfs of guile, By that most seeming virtuous eye, By thy shut soul's hypocrisy; By the perfection of thine art Which passed for human thine own heart; By thy delight in others' pain, And by thy brotherhood of Cain, I call upon thee! and compel[av] 250 Thyself to be thy proper Hell!

And on thy head I pour the vial Which doth devote thee to this trial; Nor to slumber, nor to die, Shall be in thy destiny; Though thy death shall still seem near To thy wish, but as a fear; Lo! the spell now works around thee, And the clankless chain hath bound thee; O'er thy heart and brain together 260 Hath the word been passed--now wither!

## SCENE II.--_The Mountain of the Jungfrau_.--

_Time, Morning_.--MANFRED _alone upon the cliffs._

_Man_. The spirits I have raised abandon me, The spells which I have studied baffle me, The remedy I recked of tortured me I lean no more on superhuman aid; It hath no power upon the past, and for The future, till the past be gulfed in darkness, It is not of my search.--My Mother Earth![119] And thou fresh-breaking Day, and you, ye Mountains, Why are ye beautiful? I cannot love ye. And thou, the bright Eye of the Universe, 10 That openest over all, and unto all Art a delight--thou shin'st not on my heart. And you, ye crags, upon whose extreme edge I stand, and on the torrent's brink beneath Behold the tall pines dwindled as to shrubs In dizziness of distance; when a leap, A stir, a motion, even a breath, would bring My breast upon its rocky bosom's bed To rest for ever--wherefore do I pause? I feel the impulse--yet I do not plunge; 20 I see the peril--yet do not recede; And my brain reels--and yet my foot is firm: There is a power upon me which withholds, 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 myself-- The last infirmity of evil. Aye, Thou winged and cloud-cleaving minister, 30 [_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 art gone Where the eye cannot follow thee; but thine Yet pierces downward, onward, or above, With a pervading vision.--Beautiful! How beautiful is all this visible world![120] How glorious in its action and itself! But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we, Half dust, half deity, alike unfit 40 To sink or soar, with our mixed essence make A conflict of its elements, and breathe The breath of degradation and of pride, Contending with low wants and lofty will, Till our Mortality predominates, And men are--what they name not to themselves, And trust not to each other. Hark! the note, [_The Shepherd's pipe in the distance is heard._ The natural music of the mountain reed-- For here the patriarchal days are not A pastoral fable--pipes in the liberal air, 50 Mixed with the sweet bells of the sauntering herd;[121] My soul would drink those echoes. Oh, that I were The viewless spirit of a lovely sound, A living voice, a breathing harmony, A bodiless enjoyment[122]--born and dying With the blest tone which made me!

_Enter from below a_ CHAMOIS HUNTER.

_Chamois Hunter_. Even so This way the Chamois leapt: her nimble feet Have baffled me; my gains to-day will scarce Repay my break-neck travail.--What is here? Who seems not of my trade, and yet hath reached 60 A height which none even of our mountaineers, 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 thus-- Grey-haired with anguish, like these blasted pines, Wrecks of a single winter, barkless, branchless,[123] A blighted trunk upon a curséd root, Which but supplies a feeling to Decay-- And to be thus, eternally but thus, 70 Having been otherwise! Now furrowed o'er With wrinkles, ploughed by moments, not by years And hours, all tortured into ages--hours Which I outlive!--Ye toppling crags of ice! Ye Avalanches, whom a breath draws down In mountainous o'erwhelming, come and crush me! I hear ye momently above, beneath, Crash with a frequent conflict;[124] but ye pass, And only fall on things that still would live; On the young flourishing forest, or the hut 80 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,[aw] Whose every wave breaks on a living shore, Heaped with the damned like pebbles.--I am giddy.[125]

_C. Hun_. I must approach him cautiously; if near, 90 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 crushed the waters into mist, and made Their fountains find another channel--thus, Thus, in its old age, did Mount Rosenberg--[126] Why stood I not beneath it?

_C. Hun_. Friend! have a care, 100 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 be-- In this one plunge.--Farewell, ye opening Heavens! Look not upon me thus reproachfully-- You were not meant for me--Earth! take these atoms!

[_As_ MANFRED _is in act to spring from the cliff, the_ CHAMOIS HUNTER _seizes and retains him with a sudden grasp._

_C. Hun_. Hold, madman!--though aweary of thy life, 110 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 not-- I 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--well-- 120 The Chalet will be gained within an hour: Come on, we'll quickly find a surer footing, And something like a pathway, which the torrent Hath washed since winter.--Come,'tis bravely done-- You should have been a hunter.--Follow me.

[_As they descend the rocks with difficulty, the scene closes._

## ACT II.

## SCENE I.--_A Cottage among the Bernese 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 guide-- But whither?

_Man_. It imports not: I do know My route full well, and need no further guidance.

_C. Hun_. Thy garb and gait bespeak thee of high lineage-- One of the many chiefs, whose castled crags Look o'er the lower valleys--which of these May call thee lord? I only know their portals; 10 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 thawed my veins among our glaciers, now Let it do thus for thine--Come, pledge me fairly! 20

_Man_. Away, away! there's blood upon the brim! Will 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,[127] And this was shed: but still it rises up, Colouring the clouds, that shut me out from Heaven, Where thou art not--and I shall never be. 30

_C. Hun_. Man of strange words, and some half-maddening sin,[ax] Which makes thee people vacancy, whate'er Thy dread and sufferance be, there's comfort yet-- The aid of holy men, and heavenly patience----

_Man_. Patience--and patience! Hence--that word was made For brutes of burthen, not for birds of prey! Preach it to mortals of a dust like thine,-- I am not of thine order.

_C. Hun_. Thanks to Heaven! I would not be of thine for the free fame Of William Tell; but whatsoe'er thine ill, 40 It must be borne, and these wild starts are useless.

_Man_. Do I not bear it?--Look on me--I live.

_C. Hun._ This is convulsion, and no healthful life.

_Man_. I tell thee, man! I have lived many years, Many long years, but they are nothing now To those which I must number: ages--ages-- Space and eternity--and consciousness, With the fierce thirst of death--and still unslaked!

_C. Hun_. Why on thy brow the seal of middle age Hath scarce been set; I am thine elder far. 50

_Man_. Think'st thou existence doth depend on time?[128] It doth; but actions are our epochs: mine Have made my days and nights imperishable, Endless, and all alike, as sands on the shore, Innumerable atoms; 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 bitterness.

_C. Hun_. Alas! he's mad--but yet I must not leave him.

_Man_. I would I were--for then the things I see 60 Would be but a distempered dream.

_C. Hun_. What is it That thou dost see, or think thou look'st upon?

_Man_. Myself, and thee--a peasant of the Alps-- Thy humble virtues, hospitable home, And spirit patient, pious, proud, and free; Thy self-respect, grafted on innocent thoughts; Thy days of health, and nights of sleep; thy toils, By danger dignified, yet guiltless; hopes Of cheerful old age and a quiet grave, With cross and garland over its green turf, 70 And thy grandchildren's love for epitaph! This do I see--and then I look within-- It matters not--my Soul was scorched already!

_C. Hun_. And would'st thou then exchange thy lot for mine?

_Man_. No, friend! I would not wrong thee, nor exchange My lot with living being: I can bear-- However wretchedly, 'tis still to bear-- In life what others could not brook to dream, But perish in their slumber.

_C. Hun_. And with this-- This cautious feeling for another's pain, 80 Canst thou be black with evil?--say not so. Can one of gentle thoughts have wreaked revenge Upon his enemies?

_Man_. Oh! no, no, no! My injuries came down on those who loved me-- On those whom I best loved: I never quelled An enemy, save in my just defence-- But my embrace was fatal.

_C. Hun_. Heaven give thee rest! And Penitence restore thee to thyself; My prayers shall be for thee.

_Man_. I need them not, But can endure thy pity. I depart-- 90 'Tis time--farewell!--Here's gold, and thanks for thee-- No words--it is thy due.--Follow me not-- I know my path--the mountain peril's past: And once again I charge thee, follow not! [_Exit_ MANFRED.

## SCENE II.--_A lower Valley in the Alps.--A Cataract_.

_Enter_ MANFRED.

It is not noon--the Sunbow's rays[129] still arch The torrent with the many hues of heaven, And roll the sheeted silver's waving column O'er the crag's headlong perpendicular, And fling its lines of foaming light along, And to and fro, like the pale courser's tail, The Giant steed, to be bestrode by Death, As told in the Apocalypse.[130] No eyes But mine now drink this sight of loveliness; I should be sole in this sweet solitude, 10 And with the Spirit of the place divide The homage of these waters.--I will call her.

[MANFRED _takes some of the water into the palm of his hand and flings it into the air, muttering the ajuration. After a pause, the_ WITCH OF THE ALPS _rises beneath the arch of the sunbow of the torrent._

Beautiful Spirit! with thy hair of light, And dazzling eyes of glory, in whose form The charms of Earth's least mortal daughters grow To an unearthly stature, in an essence Of purer elements; while the hues of youth,-- Carnationed like a sleeping Infant's cheek, Rocked by the beating of her mother's heart, Or the rose tints, which Summer's twilight leaves 20 Upon the lofty Glacier's virgin snow, The blush of earth embracing with her Heaven,-- Tinge thy celestial aspect, and make tame The beauties of the Sunbow which bends o'er thee. Beautiful Spirit! in thy calm clear brow, Wherein is glassed serenity of Soul,[ay] Which of itself shows immortality, I read that thou wilt pardon to a Son Of Earth, whom the abstruser powers permit At times to commune with them--if that he 30 Avail him of his spells--to call thee thus, And gaze on thee a moment.

_Witch_. Son of Earth! I know thee, and the Powers which give thee power! I know thee for a man of many thoughts, And deeds of good and ill, extreme in both, Fatal and fated in thy sufferings. I have expected this--what would'st thou with me?

_Man_. To look upon thy beauty--nothing further. The face of the earth hath maddened me, and I Take refuge in her mysteries, and pierce 40 To the abodes of those who govern her-- But they can nothing aid me. I have sought From them what they could not bestow, and now 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?

_Man_. 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 youth upwards 50 My Spirit walked not with the souls of men, Nor looked 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 midst 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, 60 I held but slight communion; but instead, My joy was in the wilderness,--to breathe The difficult air of the iced mountain's top,[131] Where the birds dare not build--nor insect's wing Flit o'er the herbless granite; or to plunge Into the torrent, and to roll along On the swift whirl of the new-breaking wave Of river-stream, or Ocean, in their flow.[132] In these my early strength exulted; or To follow through the night the moving moon,[133] 70 The stars and their development; or catch The dazzling lightnings till my eyes grew dim; Or to look, list'ning, on the scattered leaves, While Autumn winds were at their evening song. These were my pastimes, and to be alone; For if the beings, of whom I was one,-- Hating to be so,--crossed me in my path, I felt myself degraded back to them, And was all clay again. And then I dived, In my lone wanderings, to the caves of Death, 80 Searching its cause in its effect; and drew From withered bones, and skulls, and heaped up dust Conclusions most forbidden.[134] Then I passed-- The nights of years in sciences untaught, Save in the old-time; and with time and toil, And terrible ordeal, and such penance As in itself hath power upon the air, And spirits that do compass air and earth, Space, and the peopled Infinite, I made Mine eyes familiar with Eternity, 90 Such as, before me, did the Magi, and He who from out their fountain-dwellings raised Eros and Anteros,[135] at Gadara, As I do thee;--and with my knowledge grew The thirst of knowledge, and the power and joy Of this most bright intelligence, until----

_Witch_. Proceed.

_Man_. Oh! I but thus prolonged my words, Boasting these idle attributes, because As I approach the core of my heart's grief-- But--to my task. I have not named to thee 100 Father or mother, mistress, friend, or being, With whom I wore the chain of human ties; If I had such, they seemed not such to me-- Yet there was One----

_Witch_. Spare not thyself--proceed.

_Man_. She was like me in lineaments--her eyes-- Her hair--her features--all, to the very tone Even of her voice, they said were like to mine; But softened all, and tempered into beauty: She had the same lone thoughts and wanderings, The quest of hidden knowledge, and a mind 110 To comprehend the Universe: nor these Alone, but with them gentler powers than mine, Pity, and smiles, and tears--which I had not; And tenderness--but that I had for her; Humility--and that I never had. Her faults were mine--her virtues were her own-- I loved her, and destroyed her!

_Witch_. With thy hand?

_Man_. Not with my hand, but heart, which broke her heart; It gazed on mine, and withered. I have shed Blood, but not hers--and yet her blood was shed; 120 I saw--and could not stanch it.

_Witch_. And for this-- A being of the race thou dost despise-- The order, which thine own would rise above, Mingling with us and ours,--thou dost forego The gifts of our great knowledge, and shrink'st back To recreant mortality----Away!

_Man_. Daughter of Air! I tell thee, since that hour-- But words are breath--look on me in my sleep, Or watch my watchings--Come and sit by me! My solitude is solitude no more, 130 But peopled with the Furies;--I have gnashed My teeth in darkness till returning morn, Then cursed myself till sunset;--I have prayed For madness as a blessing--'tis denied me. I have affronted Death--but in the war Of elements the waters shrunk from me,[136] And fatal things passed harmless; the cold hand Of an all-pitiless Demon held me back, Back by a single hair, which would not break. In Fantasy, Imagination, all 140 The affluence of my soul--which one day was A Croesus in creation--I plunged deep, But, like an ebbing wave, it dashed me back Into the gulf of my unfathomed thought. I plunged amidst Mankind--Forgetfulness[137] I sought in all, save where 'tis to be found-- And that I have to learn--my Sciences, My long pursued and superhuman art, Is mortal here: I dwell in my despair-- And live--and live for ever.[az]

_Witch_. It may be 150 That I can aid thee.

_Man_. To do this thy power Must wake the dead, or lay me low with them. Do so--in any shape--in any hour-- With any torture--so it be the last.

_Witch_. That is not in my province; but if thou Wilt swear obedience to my will, and do My bidding, it may help thee to thy wishes.

_Man_. I will not swear--Obey! and whom? the Spirits Whose presence I command, and be the slave Of those who served me--Never!

_Witch_. Is this all? 160 Hast thou no gentler answer?--Yet bethink thee, And pause ere thou rejectest.

_Man_. I have said it.

_Witch_. Enough! I may retire then--say!

_Man_. Retire!

[_The_ WITCH _disappears._

_Man_. (_alone_). We are the fools of Time and Terror: Days Steal on us, and steal from us; yet we live, Loathing our life, and dreading still to die. In all the days of this detested yoke-- This vital weight upon the struggling heart, Which sinks with sorrow, or beats quick with pain, Or joy that ends in agony or faintness-- 170 In all the days of past and future--for In life there is no present--we can number How few--how less than few--wherein the soul Forbears to pant for death, and yet draws back As from a stream in winter, though the chill[ba] Be but a moment's. I have one resource Still in my science--I can call the dead, And ask them what it is we dread to be: The sternest answer can but be the Grave, And that is nothing: if they answer not-- 180 The buried Prophet answered to the Hag Of Endor; and the Spartan Monarch drew From the Byzantine maid's unsleeping spirit An answer and his destiny--he slew That which he loved, unknowing what he slew, And died unpardoned--though he called in aid The Phyxian Jove, and in Phigalia roused The Arcadian Evocators to compel The indignant shadow to depose her wrath, Or fix her term of vengeance--she replied 190 In words of dubious import, but fulfilled.[138] If I had never lived, that which I love Had still been living; had I never loved, That which I love would still be beautiful, Happy and giving happiness. What is she? What is she now?--a sufferer for my sins-- A thing I dare not think upon--or nothing. Within few hours I shall not call in vain-- Yet in this hour I dread the thing I dare: Until this hour I never shrunk to gaze 200 On spirit, good or evil--now I tremble, And feel a strange cold thaw upon my heart. But I can act even what I most abhor, And champion human fears.--The night approaches. [_Exit._

## SCENE III.--_The summit of the Jungfrau Mountain._

_Enter_ FIRST DESTINY.

The Moon is rising broad, and round, and bright; And here on snows, where never human foot[139] Of common mortal trod, we nightly tread, And leave no traces: o'er the savage sea, The glassy ocean of the mountain ice, We skim its rugged breakers, which put on The aspect of a tumbling tempest's foam, Frozen in a moment[140]--a dead Whirlpool's image: And this most steep fantastic pinnacle, The fretwork of some earthquake--where the clouds 10 Pause to repose themselves in passing by-- Is sacred to our revels, or our vigils; Here do I wait my sisters, on our way To the Hall of Arimanes--for to-night Is our great festival[141]--'tis strange they come not.

_A Voice without, singing._

The Captive Usurper, Hurled down from the throne, Lay buried in torpor, Forgotten and lone; I broke through his slumbers, 20 I shivered his chain, I leagued him with numbers-- He's Tyrant again! With the blood of a million he'll answer my care, With a Nation's destruction--his flight and despair![142]

_Second Voice, without._

The Ship sailed on, the Ship sailed fast, But I left not a sail, and I left not a mast; There is not a plank of the hull or the deck, And there is not a wretch to lament o'er his wreck; Save one, whom I held, as he swam, by the hair, 30 And he was a subject well worthy my care; A traitor on land, and a pirate at sea--[143] But I saved him to wreak further havoc for me!

FIRST DESTINY, _answering._

The City lies sleeping; The morn, to deplore it, May dawn on it weeping: Sullenly, slowly, The black plague flew o'er it-- Thousands lie lowly; Tens of thousands shall perish; 40 The living shall fly from The sick they should cherish; But nothing can vanquish The touch that they die from. Sorrow and anguish, And evil and dread, Envelope a nation; The blest are the dead, Who see not the sight Of their own desolation; 50 This work of a night-- This wreck of a realm--this deed of my doing-- For ages I've done, and shall still be renewing!

_Enter the_ SECOND _and_ THIRD DESTINIES.

_The Three._

Our hands contain the hearts of men, Our footsteps are their graves; We only give to take again The Spirits of our slaves!

_First Des_. Welcome!--Where's Nemesis?

_Second Des_. At some great work; But what I know not, for my hands were full.

_Third Des_. Behold she cometh.

_Enter_ NEMESIS.

_First Des_. Say, where hast thou been? 60 My Sisters and thyself are slow to-night.

_Nem_. I was detained repairing shattered thrones-- Marrying fools, restoring dynasties-- Avenging men upon their enemies, And making them repent their own revenge; Goading the wise to madness; from the dull Shaping out oracles to rule the world Afresh--for they were waxing out of date, And mortals dared to ponder for themselves, To weigh kings in the balance--and to speak 70 Of Freedom, the forbidden fruit.--Away! We have outstayed the hour--mount we our clouds! [_Exeunt._

## SCENE IV.--_The Hall of Arimanes._[144]--_Arimanes on his Throne,

a Globe of Fire,[145] surrounded by the Spirits._

_Hymn of the_ SPIRITS.

Hail to our Master!--Prince of Earth and Air! Who walks the clouds and waters--in his hand The sceptre of the Elements, which tear Themselves to chaos at his high command! He breatheth--and a tempest shakes the sea; He speaketh--and the clouds reply in thunder; He gazeth--from his glance the sunbeams flee; He moveth--Earthquakes rend the world asunder. Beneath his footsteps the Volcanoes rise; His shadow is the Pestilence: his path 10 The comets herald through the crackling skies;[bb] And Planets turn to ashes at his wrath. To him War offers daily sacrifice; To him Death pays his tribute; Life is his, With all its Infinite of agonies-- And his the Spirit of whatever is!

_Enter the_ DESTINIES _and_ NEMESIS.

_First Des_. Glory to Arimanes! on the earth His power increaseth--both my sisters did His bidding, nor did I neglect my duty!

_Second Des_. Glory to Arimanes! we who bow 20 The necks of men, bow down before his throne!

_Third Des_. Glory to Arimanes! we await His nod!

_Nem_. Sovereign of Sovereigns! we are thine, And all that liveth, more or less, is ours, And most things wholly so; still to increase Our power, increasing thine, demands our care, And we are vigilant. Thy late commands Have been fulfilled to the utmost.

_Enter_ MANFRED.

_A Spirit_. What is here? A mortal!--Thou most rash and fatal wretch, Bow down and worship!

_Second Spirit_. I do know the man-- 30 A Magian of great power, and fearful skill!

_Third Spirit_. Bow down and worship, slave!--What, know'st thou not Thine and our Sovereign?--Tremble, and obey!

_All the Spirits_. Prostrate thyself, and thy condemnéd clay, Child of the Earth! or dread the worst.

_Man_. I know it; And yet ye see I kneel not.

_Fourth Spirit_. 'Twill be taught thee.

_Man_. 'Tis taught already;--many a night on the earth, On the bare ground, have I bowed down my face, And strewed my head with ashes; I have known The fulness of humiliation--for 40 I sunk before my vain despair, and knelt To my own desolation.

_Fifth Spirit_. Dost thou dare Refuse to Arimanes on his throne What the whole earth accords, beholding not The terror of his Glory?--Crouch! I say.

_Man_. Bid _him_ bow down to that which is above him, The overruling Infinite--the Maker Who made him not for worship--let him kneel, And we will kneel together.

_The Spirits_. Crush the worm! Tear him in pieces!--

_First Des_. Hence! Avaunt!--he's mine. 50 Prince of the Powers invisible! This man Is of no common order, as his port And presence here denote: his sufferings Have been of an immortal nature--like Our own; his knowledge, and his powers and will, As far as is compatible with clay, Which clogs the ethereal essence, have been such As clay hath seldom borne; his aspirations Have been beyond the dwellers of the earth, And they have only taught him what we know-- 60 That knowledge is not happiness, and science[146] But an exchange of ignorance for that Which is another kind of ignorance. This is not all--the passions, attributes Of Earth and Heaven, from which no power, nor being, Nor breath from the worm upwards is exempt, Have pierced his heart; and in their consequence Made him a thing--which--I who pity not, Yet pardon those who pity. He is mine-- And thine it may be; be it so, or not-- 70 No other Spirit in this region hath A soul like his--or power upon his soul.

_Nem_. What doth he here then?

_First Des_. Let _him_ answer that.

_Man_. Ye know what I have known; and without power I could not be amongst ye: but there are Powers deeper still beyond--I come in quest Of such, to answer unto what I seek.

_Nem_. What would'st thou?

_Man_. _Thou_ canst not reply to me. Call up the dead--my question is for them.

_Nem_. Great Arimanes, doth thy will avouch 80 The wishes of this mortal?

_Ari_. Yea.

_Nem_. Whom wouldst thou Uncharnel?

_Man_. One without a tomb--call up Astarte.[147]

NEMESIS.

Shadow! or Spirit! Whatever thou art, Which still doth inherit[bc] The whole or a part Of the form of thy birth, Of the mould of thy clay, Which returned to the earth, 90 Re-appear to the day! Bear what thou borest, The heart and the form, And the aspect thou worest Redeem from the worm. Appear!--Appear!--Appear! Who sent thee there requires thee here!

[_The Phantom of_ ASTARTE _rises and stands in the midst_.

_Man_. Can this be death? there's bloom upon her cheek; But now I see it is no living hue, But a strange hectic--like the unnatural red 100 Which Autumn plants upon the perished leaf.[148] It is the same! Oh, God! that I should dread To look upon the same--Astarte!--No, I cannot speak to her--but bid her speak-- Forgive me or condemn me.

NEMESIS.

By the Power which hath broken The grave which enthralled thee, Speak to him who hath spoken. Or those who have called thee!

_Man_. She is silent, And in that silence I am more than answered. 110

_Nem_. My power extends no further. Prince of Air! It rests with thee alone--command her voice.

_Ari_. Spirit--obey this sceptre!

_Nem_. Silent still! She is not of our order, but belongs To the other powers. Mortal! thy quest is vain, And we are baffled also.

_Man_. Hear me, hear me-- Astarte! my belovéd! speak to me: I have so much endured--so much endure-- Look on me! the grave hath not changed thee more Than I am changed for thee. Thou lovedst me 120 Too much, as I loved thee: we were not made To torture thus each other--though it were The deadliest sin to love as we have loved. Say that thou loath'st me not--that I do bear This punishment for both--that thou wilt be One of the blesséd--and that I shall die; For hitherto all hateful things conspire To bind me in existence--in a life Which makes me shrink from Immortality-- A future like the past. I cannot rest. 130 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 called on thee in the still night, Startled the slumbering birds from the hushed boughs, And woke the mountain wolves, and made the caves Acquainted with thy vainly echoed name, Which answered me--many things answered me-- Spirits and men--but thou wert silent all. 140 Yet speak to me! I have outwatched the stars, And gazed o'er heaven in vain in search of thee. Speak to me! I have wandered 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_. Manfred!

_Man_. Say on, say on-- I live but in the sound--it is thy voice! 150

_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_. One word for mercy! Say thou lovest me.

_Phan_. Manfred!

[_The Spirit of_ ASTARTE _disappears_.

_Nem_. She's gone, and will not be recalled: Her words will be fulfilled. 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.[149] 160 Had he been one of us, he would have made An awful Spirit.

_Nem_. Hast thou further question Of our great Sovereign, or his worshippers?

_Man_. None.

_Nem_. Then for a time farewell.

_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.

(_Scene closes_.)

## ACT III.

## SCENE I.--_A Hall in the Castle of Manfred_.[150]

MANFRED _and_ HERMAN.

_Man_. What is the hour?

_Her_. It wants but one till sunset, And promises a lovely twilight.

_Man_. Say, Are all things so disposed of in the tower As I directed?

_Her_. All, my Lord, are ready: Here is the key and casket.[151]

_Man_. It is well: Thou mayst retire. [_Exit_ HERMAN.

_Man_. (_alone_). There is a calm upon me-- Inexplicable stillness! which till now Did not belong to what I knew of life. If that I did not know Philosophy To be of all our vanities the motliest, 10 The merest word that ever fooled the ear From out the schoolman's jargon, I should deem The golden secret, the sought "Kalon," found,[152] And seated in my soul. It will not last, But it is well to have known it, though but once: It hath enlarged my thoughts with a new sense, And I within my tablets would note down That there is such a feeling. Who is there?

_Re-enter_ HERMAN.

_Her_. My Lord, the Abbot of St. Maurice craves[153] To greet your presence.

_Enter the_ ABBOT OF ST. MAURICE.

_Abbot_. Peace be with Count Manfred! 20

_Man_. Thanks, holy father! welcome to these walls; Thy presence honours them, and blesseth those Who dwell within them.

_Abbot_. Would it were so, Count!-- But I would fain confer with thee alone.

_Man_. Herman, retire.--What would my reverend guest?

_Abbot_. Thus, without prelude:--Age and zeal--my office-- And good intent must plead my privilege; Our near, though not acquainted neighbourhood, May also be my herald. Rumours strange, And of unholy nature, are abroad, 30 And busy with thy name--a noble name For centuries: may he who bears it now Transmit it unimpaired!

_Man_. Proceed,--I listen.

_Abbot_. 'Tis said thou holdest converse with the things Which are forbidden to the search of man; That with the dwellers of the dark abodes, The many evil and unheavenly spirits Which walk the valley of the Shade of Death, Thou communest. I know that with mankind, Thy fellows in creation, thou dost rarely 40 Exchange thy thoughts, and that thy solitude Is as an Anchorite's--were it but holy.

_Man_. And what are they who do avouch these things?

_Abbot_. My pious brethren--the scaréd peasantry-- Even thy own vassals--who do look on thee With most unquiet eyes. Thy life's in peril!

_Man_. Take it.

_Abbot_. I come to save, and not destroy: I would not pry into thy secret soul; But if these things be sooth, there still is time For penitence and pity: reconcile thee 50 With the true church, and through the church to Heaven.

_Man_. I hear thee. This is my reply--whate'er I may have been, or am, doth rest between Heaven and myself--I shall not choose a mortal To be my mediator--Have I sinned Against your ordinances? prove and punish![154]

_Abbot_. My son! I did not speak of punishment,[155] But penitence and pardon;--with thyself The choice of such remains--and for the last, Our institutions and our strong belief 60 Have given me power to smooth the path from sin To higher hope and better thoughts; the first I leave to Heaven,--"Vengeance is mine alone!" So saith the Lord, and with all humbleness His servant echoes back the awful word.

_Man_. Old man! there is no power in holy men, Nor charm in prayer, nor purifying form Of penitence, nor outward look, nor fast, Nor agony--nor, greater than all these, The innate tortures of that deep Despair, 70 Which is Remorse without the fear of Hell, But all in all sufficient to itself Would make a hell of Heaven--can exorcise From out the unbounded spirit the quick sense Of its own sins--wrongs--sufferance--and revenge Upon itself; there is no future pang Can deal that justice on the self--condemned He deals on his own soul.

_Abbot_. All this is well; For this will pass away, and be succeeded By an auspicious hope, which shall look up 80 With calm assurafice to that blessed place, Which all who seek may win, whatever be Their earthly errors, so they be atoned: And the commencement of atonement is The sense of its necessity. Say on-- And all our church can teach thee shall be taught; And all we can absolve thee shall be pardoned.

_Man_. When Rome's sixth Emperor[156] was near his last, The victim of a self-inflicted wound, To shun the torments of a public death[bd] 90 From senates once his slaves, a certain soldier, With show of loyal pity, would have stanched The gushing throat with his officious robe; The dying Roman thrust him back, and said-- Some empire still in his expiring glance-- "It is too late--is this fidelity?"

_Abbot_. And what of this?

_Man_. I answer with the Roman-- "It is too late!"

_Abbot_. It never can be so, To reconcile thyself with thy own soul, And thy own soul with Heaven. Hast thou no hope? 100 'Tis strange--even those who do despair above, Yet shape themselves some fantasy on earth, To which frail twig they cling, like drowning men.

_Man_. Aye--father! I have had those early visions, And noble aspirations in my youth, To make my own the mind of other men, The enlightener of nations; and to rise I knew not whither--it might be to fall; But fall, even as the mountain-cataract, Which having leapt from its more dazzling height, 110 Even in the foaming strength of its abyss, (Which casts up misty columns that become Clouds raining from the re-ascended skies,)[157] Lies low but mighty still.--But this is past, My thoughts mistook themselves.

_Abbot_. And wherefore so?

_Man_.I could not tame my nature down; for he Must serve who fain would sway; and soothe, and sue, And watch all time, and pry into all place, And be a living Lie, who would become A mighty thing amongst the mean--and such 120 The mass are; I disdained 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?

_Man_. 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,[158] Which dwells but in the desert, and sweeps o'er The barren sands which bear no shrubs to blast, 130 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.

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

_Man_. Look on me! there is an order Of mortals on the earth, who do become Old in their youth, and die ere middle age,[159] 140 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 withered, or of broken hearts; For this last is a malady which slays More than are numbered 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, 150 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--

_Man_. Old man! I do respect Thine order, and revere thine years; I deem Thy purpose pious, but it is in vain: Think me not churlish; I would spare thyself, Far more than me, in shunning at this time All further colloquy--and so--farewell. [Exit MANFRED.

_Abbot_. This should have been a noble creature: he 160 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 Mixed, 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 my duty Is to dare all things for a righteous end. 170 I'll follow him--but cautiously, though surely. [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.

_Man_. Doth he so? I will look on him. [MANFRED _advances to the Window of the Hall_. Glorious Orb! the idol[160] Of early nature, and the vigorous race Of undiseased mankind, the giant sons[161] 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 revealed! 10 Thou earliest minister of the Almighty, Which gladdened, on their mountain tops, the hearts Of the Chaldean shepherds, till they poured[162] 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 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, 20 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_. 'Tis 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.

_Manuel_. 'Twere dangerous; 10 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?

_Manuel_. 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?

_Manuel_. I speak not 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 20 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.

_Manuel_. These walls Must change their chieftain first. Oh! I have seen Some strange things in them, Herman.[be]

_Her_. Come, be friendly; 30 Relate me some to while away our watch: I've heard thee darkly speak of an event Which happened hereabouts, by this same tower.

_Manuel_. That was a night indeed! I do remember 'Twas twilight, as it may be now, and such Another evening:--yon red cloud, which rests On Eigher's pinnacle,[163] 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; 40 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 seemed to love,-- As he, indeed, by blood was bound to do, The Lady Astarte, his----[164] Hush! who comes here?

_Enter the_ ABBOT.

_Abbot_. Where is your master?

_Her_. Yonder in the tower.

_Abbot_. I must speak with him.

_Manuel_. 'Tis impossible; He is most private, and must not be thus 50 Intruded on.

_Abbot_. Upon myself I take The forfeit of my fault, if fault there be-- But I must see him.

_Her_. Thou hast seen him once his eve already.

_Abbot_. Herman! I command thee,[bf] Knock, and apprize the Count of my approach.

_Her_. We dare not.

_Abbot_. Then it seems I must be herald Of my own purpose.

_Manuel_. Reverend father, stop-- I pray you pause.

_Abbot_. Why so?

_Manuel_. But step this way, And I will tell you further. [_Exeunt_.

## SCENE IV.--_Interior of the 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[165] Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man; and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness, I learned 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,[166] 10 '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 bayed beyond the Tiber; and More near from out the Cæsars' palace came The owl's long cry, and, interruptedly,[167] Of distant sentinels the fitful song Begun and died upon the gentle wind.[168] Some cypresses beyond the time-worn breach 20 Appeared 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 levelled battlements, And twines its roots with the imperial hearths, Ivy usurps the laurel's place of growth; But the gladiators' bloody Circus stands, A noble wreck in ruinous perfection, While Cæsar's chambers, and the Augustan halls, Grovel on earth in indistinct decay.-- 30 And thou didst shine, thou rolling Moon, upon All this, and cast a wide and tender light, Which softened down the hoar austerity Of rugged desolation, and filled up, As 'twere 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 40 Our spirits from their urns. 'Twas such a night! 'Tis 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.

_Enter the_ ABBOT.

_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_-- 50 Could I touch _that_, with words or prayers, I should Recall a noble spirit which hath wandered, But is not yet all lost.

_Man_. Thou know'st me not; My days are numbered, and my deeds recorded: Retire, or 'twill be dangerous--Away!

_Abbot_. Thou dost not mean to menace me?

_Man_. Not I! I simply tell thee peril is at hand, And would preserve thee.

_Abbot_. What dost thou mean?

_Man_. Look there! What dost thou see?

_Abbot_. Nothing.

_Man_. Look there, I say, And steadfastly;--now tell me what thou seest? 60

_Abbot_. That which should shake me,--but I fear it not: 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--but His sight may shock thine old limbs into palsy. I say to thee--Retire!

_Abbot_. And I reply-- Never--till I have battled with this fiend:-- 70 What doth he here?

_Man_. Why--aye--what doth he here? 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[169] Glares forth the immortality of Hell-- Avaunt!--

_Man_. Pronounce--what is thy mission?

_Spirit_. Come!

_Abbot_. What art thou, unknown being? answer!--speak! 80

_Spirit_. The genius of this mortal.--Come!'tis time.

_Man_. I am prepared for all things, but deny The Power which summons me. Who sent thee here?

_Spirit_. Thou'lt know anon--Come! come!

_Man_. 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. 90

_Spirit_. Then I must summon up my brethren.--Rise![bg] [_Other Spirits rise._

_Abbot_. Avaunt! ye evil ones!--Avaunt! I say,-- Ye have no power where Piety hath power, And I do charge ye in the name--

_Spirit_. Old man! 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; 100 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.

_Spirit_. Reluctant mortal! 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_. Thou false fiend, thou liest! My life is in its last hour,--_that_ I know, 110 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--penance, daring, 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-- 120 Spurn back, and scorn ye!--

_Spirit_. But thy many crimes Have made thee--

_Man_. What are they to such as thee? Must crimes be punished 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,-- 130 Is its own origin of ill and end-- And its own place and time:[170] its innate sense, When stripped of this mortality, derives No colour from the fleeting things without, But is absorbed 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! 140 The hand of Death is on me--but not yours! [_The Demons disappear._

_Abbot_. Alas! how pale thou art--thy lips are white-- And thy breast heaves--and in thy gasping throat The accents rattle: Give thy prayers to Heaven-- Pray--albeit but in thought,--but die not thus.

_Man_. 'Tis 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-- Give me thy hand.

_Abbot_. Cold--cold--even to the heart-- But yet one prayer--Alas! how fares it with thee? 150

_Man_. Old man! 'tis not so difficult to die.[171] [MANFRED _expires._

_Abbot_. He's gone--his soul hath ta'en its earthless flight; Whither? I dread to think--but he is gone.[172]

FOOTNOTES:

[106] {86}[The MS. of _Manfred_, now in Mr. Murray's possession, is in Lord Byron's handwriting. A note is prefixed: "The scene of the drama is amongst the higher Alps, partly in the Castle of Manfred, and partly in the mountains." The date, March 18, 1817, is in John Murray's handwriting.]

[107] [So, too, Faust is discovered "in a high--vaulted narrow Gothic chamber."]

[108] [Compare _Faust,_ act i. sc. 1--

"Alas! I have explored Philosophy, and Law, and Medicine, And over deep Divinity have pored, Studying with ardent and laborious zeal."

Anster's Faust, 1883, p. 88.]

[ap] {86}

_Eternal Agency!_ _Ye spirits of the immortal Universe!_--[MS. M.]

[aq] _Of inaccessible mountains are the haunts_.--[MS. M.]

[109] [_Faust_ contemplates the sign of the macrocosm, and makes use of the sign of the Spirit of the Earth. _Manfred's_ written charm may have been "Abraxas," which comprehended the Greek numerals 365, and expressed the all-pervading spirits of the Universe.]

[110] [The Prince of the Spirits is Arimanes, _vide post,_ act ii. sc. 4, line 1, _seq._]

[111] {87}[Compare _Childe Harold,_ Canto I. stanza lxxxiii. lines 8, 9.]

[ar] _Which is fit for my pavilion_.--[MS. M.]

[as] _Or makes its ice delay_.--[MS. M.]

[112] {89}[Compare "Creatures of clay, I receive you into mine empire."--_Vathek,_ 1887, p. 179.]

[at] {90}_The Mind which is my Spirit--the high Soul._--[MS. erased.]

[au] _Answer--or I will teach ye._--[MS. M.]

[113] [So the MS., in which the word "say" clearly forms part of the _Spirit's_ speech.]

[114] {91}[Compare "Stanzas for Music," i. 3, _Poetical Works,_ 1900, iii 435.]

[115] [It is evident that the female figure is not that of Astarte, but of the subject of the "Incantation."]

[116] [The italics are not indicated in the MS.]

[117] N.B.--Here follows the "Incantation," which being already transcribed and (I suppose) published I do not transcribe again at present, because you can insert it in MS. here--as it belongs to this place: with its conclusion the 1st Scene closes.

[The "Incantation" was first published in "_The Prisoner of Chillon and Other Poems_. London: Printed for John Murray, Albemarle Street, 1816." Immediately below the title is a note: "The following Poem was a Chorus in an unpublished Witch Drama, which was begun some years ago."]

[118] {92}[Manfred was done into Italian by a translator "who was unable to find in the dictionaries ... any other signification of the 'wisp' of this line than 'a bundle of straw.'" Byron offered him two hundred francs if he would destroy the MS., and engage to withhold his hand from all past or future poems. He at first refused; but, finding that the alternative was to be a horsewhipping, accepted the money, and signed the agreement.--_Life_, p. 375, note.]

[av] {93}_I do adjure thee to this spell._--[MS. M.]

[119] {94}[Compare--

ὦ δῖος αἰθὴρ, κ.τ.λ. [Greek: ô~) di~os ai)thê\r, k.t.l.]

Æschylus, _Prometheus Vinctus,_ lines 88-91.]

[120] {95}[Compare Hamlet's speech to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (_Hamlet,_ act ii. sc. 2, lines 286, _sq._).]

[121] [The germs of this and of several other passages in _Manfred_ may be found, as Lord Byron stated, in the Journal of his Swiss tour, which he transmitted to his sister. "Sept. 19, 1816.--Arrived at a lake in the very nipple of the bosom of the Mountain; left our quadrupeds with a Shepherd, and ascended further; came to some snow in patches, upon which my forehead's perspiration fell like rain, making the same dints as in a sieve; the chill of the wind and the snow turned me giddy, but I scrambled on and upwards. Hobhouse went to the highest _pinnacle._ ... The whole of the Mountain superb. A Shepherd on a very steep and high cliff playing upon his _pipe_; very different from _Arcadia,_ (where I saw the pastors with a long Musquet instead of a Crook, and pistols in their Girdles).... The music of the Cows' bells (for their wealth, like the Patriarchs', is cattle) in the pastures, (which reach to a height far above any mountains in Britain), and the Shepherds' shouting to us from crag to crag, and playing on their reeds where the steeps appeared almost inaccessible, with the surrounding scenery, realized all that I have ever heard or imagined of a pastoral existence:--much more so than Greece or Asia Minor, for there we are a little too much of the sabre and musquet order; and if there is a Crook in one hand, you are sure to see a gun in the other:--but this was pure and unmixed--solitary, savage, and patriarchal.... As we went, they played the 'Ranz des Vaches' and other airs, by way of farewell. I have lately repeopled my mind with Nature" (_Letters_, 1899, in. 354, 355).]

[122] {96}[Compare--

"Like an unbodied joy, whose race is just begun."

_To a Skylark_, by P. B. Shelley, stanza iii. line 5.]

[123] ["Passed _whole woods of withered pines, all withered_; trunks stripped and barkless, branches lifeless; done by a _single winter_,--their appearance reminded me of me and my family" (_Letters_, 1899, iii. 360).]

[124] {97}["Ascended the Wengen mountain.... Heard the Avalanches falling every five minutes nearly--as if God was pelting the Devil down from Heaven with snow balls" (_Letters_, 1899, in. 359).]

[aw] _Like foam from the round ocean of old Hell_.--[MS. M.]

[125] ["The clouds rose from the opposite valley, curling up perpendicular precipices like the foam of the Ocean of Hell, during a Spring-tide--it was white, and sulphury, and immeasurably deep in appearance. The side we ascended was (of course) not of so precipitous a nature; but on arriving at the summit, we looked down the other side upon a boiling sea of cloud, dashing against the crags on which we stood (these crags on one side quite perpendicular) ... In passing the masses of snow, I made a snowball and pelted Hobhouse with it" (_ibid_, pp. 359. 360).]

[126] [The fall of the Rossberg took place September 2, 1806. "A huge mass of conglomerate rock, 1000 feet broad and 100 feet thick, detached itself from the face of the mountain (Rossberg or Rufiberg, near Goldau, south of Lake Zug), and slipped down into the valley below, overwhelming the villages of Goldau, Busingen, and Rothen, and part of Lowertz. More than four hundred and fifty human beings perished, and whole herds of cattle were swept away. Five minutes sufficed to complete the work of destruction. The inhabitants were first roused by a loud and grating sound like thunder ... and beheld the valleys shrouded in a cloud of dust; when it had cleared away they found the face of nature changed."--_Handbook of Switzerland,_ Part 1. pp 58, 59.]

[127] {99}[The critics of the day either affected to ignore or severely censured (e.g. writers in the _Critical_, _European_, and _Gentleman's_ Magazines) the allusions to an incestuous passion between Manfred and Astarte. Shelley, in a letter to Mrs. Gisborne, November 16, 1819, commenting on Calderon's _Los Cabellos de Absalon,_ discusses the question from an ethical as well as critical point of view: "The incest scene between Amon and Tamar is perfectly tremendous. Well may Calderon say, in the person of the former--

Si sangre sin fuego hiere Qua fara sangre con fuego.'

Incest is, like many other incorrect things, a very poetical circumstance. It may be the defiance of everything for the sake of another which clothes itself in the glory of the highest heroism, or it may be that cynical rage which, confounding the good and the bad in existing opinions, breaks through them for the purpose of rioting in selfishness and antipathy."--_Works of P. B. Shelley,_ 1880, iv. 142.]

[ax] {100} ----_and some insaner sin_.--[MS. erased.]

[128] [Compare _Childe Harold,_ Canto III. stanza v. lines 1, 2.]

[129] {102}This iris is formed by the rays of the sun over the lower part of the Alpine torrents; it is exactly like a rainbow come down to pay a visit, and so close that you may walk into it: this effect lasts till noon. ["Before ascending the mountain, went to the torrent (7 in the morning) again; the Sun upon it forming a _rainbow_ of the lower part of all colours, but principally purple and gold; the bow moving as you move; I never saw anything like this; it is only in the Sunshine" (_Letters_, 1899, iii, 359).]

[130] ["Arrived at the foot of the Mountain (the Yung frau, i.e. the Maiden); Glaciers; torrents; one of these torrents _nine hundred feet_ in height of visible descent ... heard an Avalanche fall, like thunder; saw Glacier--enormous. Storm came on, thunder, lightning, hail; all in perfection, and beautiful.... The torrent is in shape curving over the rock, like the _tail_ of a white horse streaming in the wind, such as it might be conceived would be that of the '_pale_ horse' on which _Death_ is mounted in the Apocalypse. It is neither mist nor water, but a something between both; it's immense height ... gives it a wave, a curve, a spreading here, a condensation there, wonderful and indescribable" (ibid., pp. 357, 358).]

[ay] {103}_Wherein seems glassed_----.--[MS. of extract, February 15, 1817.]

[131] {104}[Compare _Childe Harold_, Canto III. stanza lxxii. lines 2, 3, note 2.]

[132] [Compare _Childe Harold_, Canto IV. stanza clxxxiv. line 3, note 2.]

[133] [Compare--

"The moving moon went up the sky."

_The Ancient Mariner_, Part IV. line 263.

Compare, too--

"The climbing moon."

## Act iii. sc. 3, line 40.]

[134] {105}[Compare _Childe Harold_, Canto II. stanzas v.-xi.]

[135] The philosopher Jamblicus. The story of the raising of Eros and Anteros may be found in his life by Eunapius. It is well told. ["It is reported of him," says Eunapius, "that while he and his scholars were bathing in the hot baths of Gadara, in Syria, a dispute arising concerning the baths, he, smiling, ordered his disciples to ask the inhabitants by what names the two lesser springs, that were fairer than the rest, were called. To which the inhabitants replied, that 'the one was called Love, and the other Love's Contrary, but for what reason they knew not.' Upon which Iamblichus, who chanced to be sitting on the fountain's edge where the stream flowed out, put his hand on the water, and, having uttered a few words, called up from the depths of the fountain a fair-skinned lad, not over-tall, whose golden locks fell in sunny curls over his breast and back, so that he looked like one fresh from the bath; and then, going to the other spring, and doing as he had done before, called up another Amoretto like the first, save that his long-flowing locks now seemed black, now shot with sunny gleams. Whereupon both the Amoretti nestled and clung round Iamblichus as if they had been his own children ... after this his disciples asked him no more questions."--Eunapii Sardiani _Vitæ Philosophorum et Sophistarum_ (28, 29), _Philostratorum_, etc., _Opera_, Paris, 1829, p. 459, lines 20-50.]

[136] {107}[There may be some allusion here to "the squall off Meillerie" on the Lake of Geneva (see Letter to Murray, June 27, 1816, _Letters,_ 1899, iii. 333).]

[137] [Compare the concluding sentence of the Journal in Switzerland (_ibid.,_ p. 364).]

[az] _And live--and live for ever_.--[Specimen sheet.]

[ba] {108}_As from a bath_--.--[MS, erased.]

[138] The story of Pausanias, king of Sparta, (who commanded the Greeks at the battle of Platea, and afterwards perished for an attempt to betray the Lacedæmonians), and Cleonice, is told in Plutarch's life of Cimon; and in the Laconics of Pausanias the sophist in his description of Greece.

[The following is the passage from Plutarch: "It is related that when Pausanias was at Byzantium, he cast his eyes upon a young virgin named Cleonice, of a noble family there, and insisted on having her for a mistress. The parents, intimidated by his power, were under the hard necessity of giving up their daughter. The young woman begged that the light might be taken out of his apartment, that she might go to his bed in secresy and silence. When she entered he was asleep, and she unfortunately stumbled upon the candlestick, and threw it down. The noise waked him suddenly, and he, in his confusion, thinking it was an enemy coming to assassinate him, unsheathed a dagger that lay by him, and plunged it into the virgin's heart. After this he could never rest. Her image appeared to him every night, and with a menacing tone repeated this heroic verse--

'Go to the fate which pride and lust prepare!'

The allies, highly incensed at this infamous action, joined Cimon to besiege him in Byzantium. But he found means to escape thence; and, as he was still haunted by the spectre, he is said to have applied to a temple at Heraclea, where the _manes_ of the dead were consulted. There he invoked the spirit of Cleonice, and entreated her pardon. She appeared, and told him 'he would soon be delivered from all his troubles, after his return to Sparta:' in which, it seems, his death was enigmatically foretold." "Thus," adds the translator in a note, "we find that it was a custom in the pagan as well as in the Hebrew theology to conjure up the spirits of the dead, and that the witch of Endor was not the only witch in the world."--Langhorne's _Plutarch_, 1838, p. 339.

The same story is told in the _Periegesis Græcæ_, lib. iii. cap. xvii., but Pausanias adds, "This was the deed from the guilt of which Pausanias could never fly, though he employed all-various purifications, received the deprecations of Jupiter Phyxius, and went to Phigalea to the Arcadian evocators of souls."--_Descr. of Greece_ (translated by T. Taylor), 1794, i. 304, 305.]

[139] {109}[Compare--

"But I have seen the soaring Jungfrau rear Her never-trodden snow."

_Childe Harold_, Canto IV. stanza lxxiii. lines 6, 7.

Byron did not know, or ignored, the fact that the Jungfrau was first ascended in 1811, by the brothers Meyer, of Aarau.]

[140] {110}[Compare--

"And who commanded (and the silence came) Here let the billows stiffen and have rest? * * * * * Motionless torrents! silent cataracts."

_Hymn before Sunrise, etc.,_ by S.T. Coleridge, lines 47, 48, 53.

"Arrived at the Grindenwald; dined, mounted again, and rode to the higher Glacier--twilight, but distinct--very fine Glacier, like _a frozen hurricane_" (Letters, 1899, iii. 360).]

[141] [The idea of the Witches' Festival may have been derived from the Walpurgisnacht on the Brocken.]

[142] [Compare--

"Freedom ne'er shall want an heir; * * * * * When once more her hosts assemble, Tyrants shall believe and tremble-- Smile they at this idle threat? Crimson tears will follow yet."

_Ode from the French,_ v. 8, 11-14. _Poetical Works,_ 1900, iii. 435.

Compare, too, _Napoleon's Farewell_, stanza 3, ibid., p. 428. The "Voice" prophesies that St. Helena will prove a second Elba, and that Napoleon will "live to fight another day."]

[143] {111}[Byron may have had in his mind Thomas Lord Cochrane (1775-1860), "who had done brilliant service in his successive commands--the _Speedy_, _Pallas_, _Impérieuse_, and the flotilla of fire-ships at Basque Roads in 1809." In his Diary, March 10, 1814, he speaks of him as "the stock-jobbing hoaxer" (_Letters_, 1898, ii. 396, note 1).]

[144] {112}[Arimanes, the Aherman of _Vathek_, the Arimanius of Greek and Latin writers, is the Ahriman (or Angra Mainyu, "who is all death," the spirit of evil, the counter-creator) of the _Zend-Avesta_, "Fargard," i. 5 (translated by James Darmesteter, 1895, p. 4). Byron may have got the form Arimanius (_vide_ Steph., _Thesaurus_) from D'Herbelot, and changed it to Arimanes.]

[145] [The "formidable Eblis" sat on a globe of fire--"in his hand ... he swayed the iron sceptre that causes ... all the powers of the abyss to tremble."--_Vathek_, by William Beckford, 1887, p. 178.]

[bb] {112}_The comets herald through the burning skies_.--[Alternative reading in MS.]

[146] {114}[Compare--

"Sorrow is Knowledge."

## Act I. sc. 1, line 10, _vide ante_, p. 85.

Compare, too--

"Well didst thou speak, Athena's wisest son! 'All that we know is, nothing can be known.'"

_Childe Harold_, Canto II. stanza vii. lines 1, 2, _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 103.]

[147] {115}[Astarte is the classical form (_vide_ Cicero, _De Naturâ Deorum_, iii. 23, and Lucian, _De Syriâ Deâ_, iv.) of Milton's

"Moonéd Ashtaroth, Heaven's queen and mother both."

Cicero says that she was married to Adonis, alluding, no doubt, to the myth of the Phoenician Astoreth, who was at once the bride and mother of Tammuz or Adonis.]

[bc] {116}_Or dost Qy?_--[Marginal reading in MS.]

[148] [Compare--

" ... illume With hectic light, the Hesperus of the dead, Of her consuming cheek the autumnal leaf-like red."

_Childe Harold_, Canto IV. stanza cii. lines 7-9.]

[149] {118}[Compare--

" ... a firm will, and a deep sense, Which even in torture can descry Its own concentered recompense."

_Prometheus_, iii. 55-57, _vide ante_, p. 51.]

[150] {119}[On September 22, 1816 (_Letters_, 1899, iii. 357, note 2), Byron rode from Neuhaus, at the Interlaken end of Lake Thun, to the Staubbach. On the way between Matten and Müllinen, not far from the village of Wilderswyl, he passed the baronial Castle of Unspunnen, the traditional castle of Manfred. It is "but a square tower, with flanking round turrets, rising picturesquely above the surrounding brushwood." On the same day and near the same spot he "passed a rock; inscription--two brothers--one murdered the other; just the place for it." Here, according to the Countess Guiccioli, was "the origin of _Manfred_." It is somewhat singular that, on the appearance of _Manfred_, a paper was published in the June number of the _Edinburgh Monthly Magazine_, 1817, vol. i. pp. 270-273, entitled, "Sketch of a Tradition related by a Monk in Switzerland." The narrator, who signs himself P. F., professes to have heard the story in the autumn of 1816 from one of the fathers "of Capuchin Friars, not far from Altorf." It is the story of the love of two brothers for a lady with whom they had "passed their infancy." She becomes the wife of the elder brother, and, later, inspires the younger brother with a passion against which he struggles in vain. The fate of the elder brother is shrouded in mystery. The lady wastes away, and her paramour is found dead "in the same pass in which he had met his sister among the mountains." The excuse for retelling the story is that there appeared to be "a striking coincidence in some characteristic features between Lord Byron's drama and the Swiss tradition."]

[151] [The "revised version" makes no further mention of the "key and casket;" but in the first draft (_vide infra_, p. 122) they were used by Manfred in calling up Astaroth (_Selections from Byron_, New York, 1900, p. 370).]

[152] {120}[Byron may have had in his mind a sentence in a letter of C. Cassius to Cicero (_Epist.,_ xv. 19), in which he says, "It is difficult to persuade men that goodness is desirable for its own sake (τὸ καλὸν δἰ αὐτὸ αἱρετὸν [Greek: to\ kalo\n di) au)to\ ai(reto\n]); and yet it is true, and may be proved, that pleasure and calm are won by virtue, justice, in a word by goodness (τῷ καλῷ [Greek: tô~| kalô~|])."]

[153] St. Maurice is in the Rhone valley, some sixteen miles from Villeneuve. The abbey (now occupied by Augustinian monks) was founded in the fourth century, and endowed by Sigismund, King of Burgundy.

[154] {121}[Thus far the text stands as originally written. The rest of the scene as given in the first MS. is as follows:--

_Abbot_. Then, hear and tremble! For the headstrong wretch Who in the mail of innate hardihood Would shield himself, and battle for his sins, There is the stake on earth--and beyond earth Eternal--

_Man_. Charity, most reverend father, Becomes thy lips so much more than this menace, That I would call thee back to it: but say, What would'st thou with me?

_Abbot_. It may be there are Things that would shake thee--but I keep them back, And give thee till to-morrow to repent. 10 Then if thou dost not all devote thyself To penance, and with gift of all thy lands To the Monastery----

_Man_. I understand thee,--well!

_Abbot_. Expect no mercy; I have warned thee.

_Man_. (_opening the casket_). Stop-- There is a gift for thee within this casket. [MANFRED _opens the casket, strikes a light, and burns some incense._ Ho! Ashtaroth!

_The_ DEMON ASHTAROTH _appears, singing as follows:--_

The raven sits On the Raven-stone,[*] And his black wing flits O'er the milk--white bone; 20 To and fro, as the night--winds blow, The carcass of the assassin swings; And there alone, on the Raven-stone, The raven flaps his dusky wings.

The fetters creak--and his ebon beak Croaks to the close of the hollow sound; And this is the tune, by the light of the Moon, To which the Witches dance their round-- Merrily--merrily--cheerily--cheerily-- Merrily--merrily--speeds the ball: 30 The dead in their shrouds, and the Demons in clouds, Flock to the Witches' Carnival.

_Abbot_. I fear thee not--hence--hence-- Avaunt thee, evil One!--help, ho! without there!

_Man_. Convey this man to the Shreckhorn--to its peak-- To its extremest peak--watch with him there From now till sunrise; let him gaze, and know He ne'er again will be so near to Heaven. But harm him not; and, when the morrow breaks, Set him down safe in his cell--away with him! 40

_Ash_. Had I not better bring his brethren too, Convent and all, to bear him company?

_Man_. No, this will serve for the present. Take him up.

_Ash_. Come, Friar! now an exorcism or two, And we shall fly the lighter.

ASHTAROTH _disappears with the_ ABBOT, _singing as follows:_--

A prodigal son, and a maid undone,[§] And a widow re-wedded within the year; And a worldly monk, and a pregnant nun, Are things which every day appear.

MANFRED _alone._

_Man_. Why would this fool break in on me, and force 50 My art to pranks fantastical?--no matter, It was not of my seeking. My heart sickens, And weighs a fixed foreboding on my soul. But it is calm--calm as a sullen sea After the hurricane; the winds are still, But the cold waves swell high and heavily, And there is danger in them. Such a rest Is no repose. My life hath been a combat, And every thought a wound, till I am scarred In the immortal part of me.--What now?] 60

[*] "Raven-stone (Rabenstein), a translation of the German word for the gibbet, which in Germany and Switzerland is permanent, and made of stone." [Compare _Werner,_ act ii. sc. 2. Compare, too, Anster's _Faust,_ 1883, p. 306.]

[§] _A prodigal son--and a pregnant nun, nun,_ _And a widow re-wedded within the year--_ _And a calf at grass--and a priest at mass._ _Are things which every day appear_.--[MS. erased.]

[155] {122}[A supplementary MS. supplies the text for the remainder of the scene.]

[156] {124}[For the death of Nero, "Rome's sixth Emperor," _vide_ _C. Suet. Tranq_., lib. vi. cap. xlix.]

[bd]

/ _not loss of life, but_ \ _To shun_ < > _public death_--[MS. M.] \ _the torments of a_ /

[157] [A reminiscence of the clouds of spray from the Fall of the Staubbach, which, in certain aspects, appear to be springing upwards from the bed of the waterfall.]

[158] {125}[Compare _The Giaour,_ lines 282-284. Compare, too, _Don Juan,_ Canto IV. stanza lvii. line 8.]

[159] [Here, as in so many other passages of _Manfred,_ Byron is recording his own feelings and forebodings. The same note is struck in the melancholy letters of the autumn of 1811. See, for example, the letter to Dallas, October 11, "It seems as though I were to experience in my youth the greatest misery of age," etc. (_Letters,_ 1898, ii. 52).]

[160] {126}["Pray, was Manfred's speech to _the Sun_ still retained in Act third? I hope so: it was one of the best in the thing, and better than the Colosseum."--Letter to Murray, July 9, 1817, _Letters_, 1900, iv. 147. Compare Byron's early rendering of "Ossian's Address to the Sun 'in Carthon.'"--_Poetical Works_, 1898, i. 229.]

[161] {127} "And it came to pass, that the _Sons of God_ saw the daughters of men, that they were fair," etc.--"There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the _Sons of God_ came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown."--_Genesis_, ch. vi. verses 2 and 4.

[162] [For the "Chaldeans" and "mountain-tops," see _Childe Harold_,

## Canto III, stanza xiv. line i, and stanza xci. lines 1-3.]

[be] {129}_Some strange things in these far years_.--[MS. M.]

[163] [The Grosse Eiger is a few miles to the south of the Castle of Unspunnen.]

[164] The remainder of the act in its original shape, ran thus--

_Her_. Look--look--the tower-- The tower's on fire. Oh, heavens and earth! what sound, What dreadful sound is that? [_A crash like thunder_.

_Manuel_. Help, help, there!--to the rescue of the Count,-- The Count's in danger,--what ho! there! approach! [_The Servants, Vassals, and Peasantry approach stupifed with terror_. If there be any of you who have heart And love of human kind, and will to aid Those in distress--pause not--but follow me-- The portal's open, follow. [MANUEL _goes in_.

_Her_. Come--who follows? What, none of ye?--ye recreants! shiver then 10 Without. I will not see old Manuel risk His few remaining years unaided. [HERMAN _goes in_.

_Vassal_. Hark!-- No--all is silent--not a breath--the flame Which shot forth such a blaze is also gone: What may this mean? Let's enter!

_Peasant_. Faith, not I,-- Not but, if one, or two, or more, will join, I then will stay behind; but, for my part, I do not see precisely to what end. _Vassal_. Cease your vain prating--come.

_Manuel_ (_speaking within_). 'Tis all in vain-- He's dead.

_Her_. (_within_). Not so--even now methought he moved; 20 But it is dark--so bear him gently out-- Softly--how cold he is! take care of his temples In winding down the staircase.

_Re-enter_ MANUEL _and_ HERMAN, _bearing_ MANFRED _in their arms_.

_Manuel_. Hie to the castle, some of ye, and bring What aid you can. Saddle the barb, and speed For the leech to the city--quick! some water there!

_Her_. His cheek is black--but there is a faint beat Still lingering about the heart. Some water. [_They sprinkle_ MANFRED _with water: after a pause, he gives some signs of life_.

_Manuel_. He seems to strive to speak--come--cheerly, Count! He moves his lips--canst hear him! I am old, 30 And cannot catch faint sounds. [HERMAN _inclining his head and listening_.

_Her_. I hear a word Or two--but indistinctly--what is next? What's to be done? let's bear him to the castle. [MANFRED _motions with his hand not to remove him_.

_Manuel_. He disapproves--and 'twere of no avail-- He changes rapidly.

_Her_. 'Twill soon be over.

_Manuel_. Oh! what a death is this! that I should live To shake my gray hairs over the last chief Of the house of Sigismund.--And such a death! Alone--we know not how--unshrived--untended-- With strange accompaniments and fearful signs-- 40 I shudder at the sight--but must not leave him.

_Manfred_ (_speaking faintly and slowly_). Old man! 'tis not so difficult to die. [MANFRED, _having said this, expires_.

_Her_. His eyes are fixed and lifeless.--He is gone.--

_Manuel_. Close them.--My old hand quivers.--He departs-- Whither? I dread to think--but he is gone!

End of Act Third, and of the poem."]

[bf] {131}_Sirrah! I command thee_.--[MS.]

[165] [Compare _Childe Harold_, Canto III. stanza lxxxvi. line 1; stanza lxxxix. lines 1, 2; and stanza xc. lines 1, 2.]

[166] ["Drove at midnight to see the Coliseum by moonlight: but what can I say of the Coliseum? It must be _seen_; to describe it I should have thought impossible, if I had not read _Manfred_.... His [Byron's] description is the very thing itself; but what cannot he do on such a subject, when his pen is like the wand of Moses, whose touch can produce waters even from the barren rock?"--Matthews's _Diary of an Invalid_, 1820, pp. 158, 159. (Compare _Childe Harold_, Canto IV. stanzas cxxviii.-cxxxi.)]

[167] {132}[Compare _Childe Harold_, Canto IV. stanzas cvi.-cix.]

[168] [For "begun," compare _Don Juan_, Canto II. stanza clxvii. line 1.]

[169] {133}[Compare--

" ... but his face Deep scars of thunder had intrenched."

_Paradise Lost_, i. 600.]

[bg] _Summons_----.-[MS. M.]

[170] {135}

["The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven."

_Paradise Lost_, i. 254, 255.]

[171] {136}[In the first edition (p. 75), this line was left out at Gifford's suggestion (_Memoirs, etc.,_ 1891, i. 387). Byron was indignant, and wrote to Murray, August 12, 1817 (_Letters,_ 1900, iv. 157), "You have destroyed the whole effect and moral of the poem, by omitting the last line of Manfred's speaking."]

[172] [For Goethes translation of the following passages in _Manfred_, viz (i) Manfred's soliloquy, act 1. sc. 1, line 1 _seq._; (ii) "The Incantation." act i. sc. 1, lines 192-261; (iii)Manfred's soliloquy, act ii, sc. 2 lines 164-204; (iv.) the duologue between Manfred and Astarte, act ii. sc. 4, lines 116-155; (v) a couplet, "For the night hath been to me," etc., act iii. sc. 4, lines 3, 4;--see Professor A. Brandl's _Goethe-Jahrbuch._ 1899, and Goethe's _Werke,_ 1874, iii. 201, as quoted in Appendix II., _Letters,_ 1901. v. 503-514.]

THE LAMENT OF TASSO.

INTRODUCTION TO _THE LAMENT OF TASSO_.

The MS. of the _Lament of Tasso_ is dated April 20, 1817. It was despatched from Florence April 23, and reached England May 12 (see _Memoir of John Murray_, 1891, i. 384). Proofs reached Byron June 7, and the poem was published July 17, 1817.

"It was," he writes (April 26), "written in consequence of my having been lately in Ferrara." Again, writing from Rome (May 5, 1817), he asks if the MS. has arrived, and adds, "I look upon it as a 'These be good rhymes,' as Pope's papa said to him when he was a boy" (_Letters_, 1900, iv. 112-115). Two months later he reverted to the theme of Tasso's ill-treatment at the hands of Duke Alphonso, in the memorable stanzas xxxv.-xxxix. of the Fourth Canto of _Childe Harold_ (_Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 354-359; and for examination of the circumstances of Tasso's imprisonment in the Hospital of Sant' Anna, _vide ibid._, pp. 355, 356, note 1).

Notices of the _Lament of Tasso_ appeared in the _Gentleman's Magazine_, August, 1817, vol. 87, pp. 150, 151; in _The Scot's Magazine_, August, 1817, N.S., vol. i. pp. 48, 49; and a eulogistic but uncritical review in _Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine_, November, 1817, vol. ii. pp. 142-144.

ADVERTISEMENT

At Ferrara, in the Library, are preserved the original MSS. of Tasso's Gierusalemme[173] and of Guarini's Pastor Fido, with letters of Tasso, one from Titian to Ariosto, and the inkstand and chair, the tomb and the house, of the latter. But, as misfortune has a greater interest for posterity, and little or none for the cotemporary, the cell where Tasso was confined in the hospital of St. Anna attracts a more fixed attention than the residence or the monument of Ariosto--at least it had this effect on me. There are two inscriptions, one on the outer gate, the second over the cell itself, inviting, unnecessarily, the wonder and the indignation of the spectator. Ferrara is much decayed and depopulated: the castle still exists entire; and I saw the court where Parisina and Hugo were beheaded, according to the annal of Gibbon.[174]

THE LAMENT OF TASSO.[175]