Thou may'st retire.
Man. (alone.)

Inexplicable stillness! which till now
Did not belong to what I knew of life.
If that I did not know philosophy
To be of al our vanities the motliest,
The merest word that ever fool'd the ear

From out the schoolman's jargon, I should deem
The golden secret, the sought « Kalon,» found,
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 To greet your presence.

Abbot.

Enter the ABBOT OF ST MAUrice.

Peace be with Count Manfred!

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?
[Exit HERMAN.
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,
And busy with thy name—a noble name
For centuries; may he who bears it now
Transmit it unimpair'd!

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
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 scared 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

With the true church, and through the church to heaven.

I

Man. I hear thee. This is my reply; whate'er

may have been, or am, doth rest between

Heaven and myself.—I shall not chuse a mortal

To be my mediator. Have I sinn'd

Against your ordinances? prove and punish!1

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,

It will be perceived that, as far as this, the original matter of the

Third Act has been retained.

That I would call thee back to it; but say,

What wouldst 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.
Then if thou dost not all devote thyself
Το 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;

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:

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!

1

« Raven-stone (Rabenstein), a translation of the German word for the gibbet, which in Germany and Switzerland is permanent, and made

of stone »

Man. Convey this man to the Shreckhorn―to its peakTo 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!

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,

year;

And a widow re-wedded within the
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
My art to pranks fantastical?—no matter,
It was not of my seeking. My heart sickens
And weighs a fix'd 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 scarr'd
In the immortal part of me.-

-What now?

Re-enter HERMAN.

Her. My lord, you bade me wait on you at sunset: He sinks behind the mountain.

Man.

I will look on him.

Doth he so?

[MANFRED advances to the window of the hall. Glorious orb!' the idol

This fine soliloquy, and a great part of the subsequent scene, have,

Of early nature, and the vigorous race
Of undiseased mankind, the giant sons
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 reveal'd!
Thou earliest minister of the Almighty,

Which gladden'd, on their mountain tops, the hearts
Of the Chaldean shepherds, till they pour'd
Themselves in orisons! Thou material God!
And representative of the Unknown-
Who chose thee for his shadow!
Centre of many stars! which mak'st our earth
Endurable, and temperest the hues

Thou chief star!

And hearts of all who walk within thy rays!
Sire of the seasons! Monarch of the climes,
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.

I ne'er shall see thee more.

Of love and wonder was for

Fare thee well! As my first glance 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.

SCENE II.

[Exit MANFRED.

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,

it is hardly necessary to remark, been retained in the present form of the Drama.