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1 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-
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 banish'd from the realms of sleep!-
Yes! they may flatter thee, but thou must feel
A hollow agony which will not heal,
For thou art pillow'd on a curse too deep;
Thou hast sown in my sorrow, and must reap
The bitter harvest in a wo 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 thine 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 ungovern'd 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,
And hew'd 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 other's grief at any price.
And thus once enter'd into crooked ways,
The early truth, which was thy proper praise,
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
Of Prudence, with advantages annex'd-
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.

STANZAS.

"COULD LOVE FOR EVER."

COULD Love for ever

Run like a river,

And Time's endeavor

Be tried in vain

No other pleasure

With this could measure;

And like a treasure

We'd hug the chain. But since our sighing Ends not in dying,

And, form'd for flying,

Love plumes his wing;
Then for this reason

Let's love a season,

But let that season be only Spring.

When lovers parted
Feel broken-hearted
And all hopes are thwarted,
Expect to die

A few years older,
Ah! how much colder
They might behold her
For whom they sigh!
When link'd together,
In every weather,
They pluck Love's feather
From out his wing-
He'll stay for ever,

But sadly shiver

Without his plumage, waen past the Spring

Like Chiefs of Faction
His life is action-

A formal paction

That curbs his reign,
Obscures his glory,
Despot no more, he
Such territory

Quits with disdain.
Still, still advancing
With banners glancing,
His power enhancing,

He must move on-
Repose but cloys him,
Retreat destroys him,

Love brooks not a degraded throne

Wait not, fond lover:
Till years are over,
And then recover,

As from a dream.
While each bewailing
The other's failing,
With wrath and railing

All hideous seem-
While first decreasing,
Yet not quite ceasing,
Wait not till teasing

All passion blight:

If once diminish'd
Love's reign is finish'd-

Then part in friendship,—and bid good-night.

So shall Affection,

To recollection

The dear connection

Bring back with joy; You had not waited Till, tired or hated, Your passions sated Began to cloy. Your last embraces Leave no cold tracesThe same fond faces

As through the past: And eyes, the mirrors

Of your sweet errors

Reflect but rapture-not least though last.

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Thou may'st 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 now know philosophy
To be of all 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 tables 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.

Enter the ABBOT OF ST. MAURICE.

Abbot.
Peace be with Count Manfred!
Man. Thanks, holy father! welcome to these
walls:

Thy presence honors them, and bless 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, neighborhood
May also be my herald. Rumors 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 unimpaired!

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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.

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'Abbot. I fear thee not-hence-henceAvaunt thee, evil one!-help, ho! without there! Man. Convey this man to the Shreckhorn-to its peak

Man. And what are they who do avouch these To its extremest peak-watch with him there things?

From now till sunrise; let him gaze, and know

Abbot. My pious brethren-the scared peasantry-He ne'er again will be so near to heaven, Even thy own vassals-who do look on thee

With most unquiet eyes. Thy life's in peril.
Man. Take it.

Abbot.

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,

I come to save, and not destroy-Convent and all to bear him company?

I would not pry into thy secret soul;

But if these things be sooth, there still is time
For penitence and pity: reconcile thee

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

Ash. Come, friar! now an exorcism or two,

With the true church, and through the church to And we shall fly the lighter.

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 sinn'd

Against your ordinances? prove and punish! *

• It will be perceived that, as far as this, the original matter of the Third Act has been retained.

[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 wordly monk and a pregnant nun, Are things which every day appear.

• "Raven-stone, (Rabenstein,) a translation of the German word for the gibbet, which in Germany and Switzerland is permanent, and made at stores.❤

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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.

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Of features or of form, but mind and habits:
Count Sigismund was proud,-but gay and free,-

Her. My lord, you bade me wait on you at sunset: A warrior and a reveller; he dwelt not
He sinks behind the mountain.

Man.

I will look on him.

Doth he so?

With books and solitude, nor made the night
A gloomy vigil, but a festal time,
Merrier than day, he did not walk the rocks

[MANFRED advances to the window of the hall. And forests like a wolf, nor turn aside

Glorious orb!* the idol

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 were 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! 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,
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 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.

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.

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 these few years.*

Her.
Come, be friendly;
Relate me some, to while away our watch:
I've heard thee darkly speak of an event
Which happen'd 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, so rested then,-

So like it that it might be the same; the wind
Was faint and gusty, and the mountain snows
Began to glitter with the climbing moon;
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 seem'd to love,
As he, indeed, by blood was bound to do,
The lady Astarte, his―――

Her.

Look-look-the towerThe 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 ap
proach, stupified with terror.

If there be any of you who have heart
Her. 'Tis strange enough; night after night, for And love of human kind, and will to aid

years,

He hath pursed long vigils in this tower,
Without a witness. I have been within it,-
Bo have we all been ofttimes; but from it,

Or its contents, it were impossible
To draw conclusions absolute of aught

His studies tend to. To be sure, there is

• This soliloquy, and a great part of the subsequent scene, have been ened in the present form of the drama.

Those in distress-pause not-but follow meThe portal's open, follow.

Her.

[MANUEL goes in Come-Who follows?

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moved;

'Tis all in vain—

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"Twill soon be over.

Her. (within.) Not so-even now methought he He changes rapidly.
Her.
Manuel. Oh! what a death is this! that I should
live

But it is dark-so bear him gently out-
Softly-how cold he is! take care of his temples

In winding down the staircase.

To shake my gray hairs over the last chief
Of the house of Sigismund.—And such a death!

Re-enter MANUEL and HERMAN, bearing MANFRED Alone-we know not how-unshrived-untended

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.

With strange accompaniments and fearful signs-
I shudder at the sight-but must not leave him.
Man. (speaking faintly and slowly.) Old man!
'tis not so difficult to die.

[MANFRED having said this expires.
Her. His eyes are fix'd and lifeless.-He is gone.
Manuel. Close them.-My old hand quivers.-
He departs-

Whither? I dread to think-but he is gone!

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