Life of Lord Byron, Vol. IV | Page 7

witches dance their round-- Merrily, merrily, cheerily, cheerily, 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!
_Man._ Convey this man to the Shreckhorn--to its peak-- To 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, And a widow re-wedded within the
year; 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._ Doth he so? I will look on him.
[MANFRED _advances to the window of the hall._
Glorious orb![3] 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 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! 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 was 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. [Exit MANFRED.
SCENE II.
_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, Without a witness. I have been within
it,-- So have we all been oft-times; but from it, Or its contents, it were
impossible To draw conclusions absolute of aught His studies tend to.
To be sure, there is One chamber where none enter; I would give The
fee of what I have to come these three years, To pore upon its
mysteries.
_Manuel._ 'Twere dangerous; Content thyself with what thou know'st
already.
_Her._ Ah! Manuel! thou art elderly and wise, And couldst say much;
thou hast dwelt within the castle-- How many years is't?
_Manuel._ Ere Count Manfred's birth, I served his father, whom he
nought resembles.
_Her._ There be more sons in like predicament. But wherein do they
differ?
_Manuel._ I speak not Of features or of form, but mind and habits:
Count Sigismund was proud,--but gay and free,-- A warrior and a
reveller; he dwelt not With books and solitude, nor made the night A
gloomy vigil, but a festal time, Merrier than day; he did not walk the
rocks And forests like a wolf, nor turn aside 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.[4]
_Her._ Come, be friendly; Relate me some, to while away our watch:
I've heard thee darkly speak of an event Which happened hereabouts,
by this same