To justify my deeds unto myself— [An eagle passes. Whose happy flight is highest into heaven, How glorious in its action and itself! But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we, To sink or soar, with our mix'd essence make And men are what they name not to themselves, [The Shepherd's pipe in the distance is heard. The natural music of the mountain reed- A pastoral fable-pipes in the liberal air, Mix'd with the sweet bells of the sauntering herd; A living voice, a breathing harmony, Enter from below a CHAMOIS HUNTER. Chamois Hunter. Even so This way the chamois leapt: her nimble feet Proud as a free-born peasant's, at this distance— Man. (not perceiving the other.) To be thus- Having been otherwise! Now furrow'd o'er Crash with a frequent conflict; but ye pass, 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. VOL. III. C Man. The mists boil up around the glaciers; clouds Rise curling fast beneath me, white and sulphury, Like foam from the roused ocean of deep Hell, Whose every wave breaks on a living shore, Heap'd with the damn'd like pebbles.—I am giddy. C. Hun. I must approach him cautiously; if near, A sudden step will startle him, and he Seems tottering already. Man. Mountains have fallen, The ripe green valleys with destruction's splinters; C. Hun. Friend! have a care, Your next step may be fatal!-for the love Of him who made you, stand not on that brink! My bones had then been quiet in their depth; Ye were not meant for me-Earth! take these atoms! the CHAMOIS HUNTER seizes and retains him with a sudden grasp. C. Hun. Hold, madman!-though aweary of thy life, Stain not our pure vales with thy guilty blood- Man. I am most sick at heart-nay, grasp me notI am all feebleness-the mountains whirl Spinning around me— -I grow blind thou? -What art C. Hun. I'll answer that anon.-Away with meThe clouds grow thicker- there-now lean on mePlace your foot here-here, take this staff, and cling A moment to that shrub-now give me your hand, And hold fast by my girdle-softly-wellThe Chalet will be gain'd within an hour— Come on, we'll quickly find a surer footing, And something like a pathway, which the torrent Hath wash'd since winter.-Come, 'tis bravely doneYou should have been a hunter.-Follow me. [As they descend the rocks with difficulty, the scene closes. ACT II. SCENE I. A Cottage amongst 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- 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 To bask by the huge hearths of those old halls, C. Hun. 'T has thawed my veins among our glaciers, now Let it do thus for thine-Come, pledge me fairly. 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 Colouring the clouds, that shut me out from heaven, |