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Begun and died upon the gentle wind.
Some cypresses beyond the time-worn breach
Appear’d to skirt the horizon, yet they stood
Within a bowshot—where the Cæsars dwelt,
And dwell the tuneless birds of night, amidst
A grove which springs through levell d battlements,
And twines its roots with the imperial hearths,
Ivy usurps the laurel's place of growth;-
But the gladiators' bloody Circus stands,
A noble wreck in ruinous perfection!
While Cæsar's chambers, and the Augustan halls,
Grovel on earth in indistinct decay.-
And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, upon
All this, and cast a wide and tender light,
Which soften'd down the hoar austerity
Of rugged desolation, and fill d up,
As '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
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.
Аввот.

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

heartCould I touch that, with words or prayers, I should Recall a noble spirit which hath wander'd; But is not yet all lost. Man.

Thou know'st me not;
My days are number'd, and my deeds recorded :
Retire, or '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.
Аввот. .

What dost mean?
Man.

Look there!
What dost thou see?
Аввот.

Nothing
Man.

Look there, I say, And steadfastly;—now tell me what thou seest ?

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 ! Аввот.

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

Why-ay-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
Glares forth the immortality of hell
Avaunt !

Man. Pronounce--what is thy mission?
SPIRIT.

Come !

VOL. v.

F

Abbot. What art thou, unknown'being ? answer !

speak! 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 1-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 comeAway! I

say. Man. I knew, and know my hour is come, but not To render up my soul to such as thee : Away! I'll die as I have lived-alone. SPIRIT. Then I must summon up my brethren.Rise!

[Other Spirits rise up.
ABBOT. Avaunt ! ye evil ones !~Avaunt! I say,
Ye have no power where piety hath power,
And I do charge ye in the name-
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 ;
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, 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-daringAnd 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-denySpurn back, and scorn ye! SPIRIT.

But thy many crimes Have made thee

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