Manfred — Act 1

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_.