Where the wind is a stranger,

And the sea-snake hath life, Where the mermaid is decking

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 roll’d—

To the Spirit of Ocean
Thy wishes unfold !

FOURTH SPIRIT.

Where the slumbering earthquake
Lies pillow'd on fire,
And the lakes of bitumen

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 birth-place,
Thy bidding to bide-
Thy spell hath subdued me,
Thy will be my guide!

FIFTH SPIRIT.

I'm the rider of the wind,
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 sail'd well, and yet

"T will 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,
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 bosom'd 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,
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 partly with a thing like thee-
What wouldst thou, child of clay, with me?

THE SEVEN SPIRITS.

FIRST SPIRIT.

Of what-of whom-and why?

MANFRED.

Of that which is within me; read it thereYe know it, and I cannot utter it.

SPIRIT.

We can but give thee that which we possess:
Ask of us subjects, sovereignty, the power
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.

MANFRED.

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.

MANFRED.

Will death bestow it on me?

SPIRIT.

We are immortal, and do not forget:
We are eternal; and to us the past
Is, as the future, present. Art thou answer'd?

MANFRED.

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,
The lightning of my being, is as bright,

Pervading, and far darting as your own,
And shall not yield to yours, though coop'd in clay!
Answer, or I will teach you
what I am.

SPIRIT.

We answer as we answer'd; our reply Is even in thine own words.

MANFRED.

Why say ye so ?

SPIRIT.

If, as thou say'at, thine essence be as ours, We have replied in telling thee, the thing Mortals call death hath nought to do with us.

MANFRED.

I then have call'd ye from your realms in vain, Ye cannot, or ye will not, aid me.

SPIRIT.

Say;

What we possess we offer; it is thiné:
Bethink ere thou dismiss us, ask again-
Kingdom, and sway, and strength, and length of days-

MANFRED.

Accursed! what have I to do with days?

They are too long already.-Hence-begone!

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 7

MANFRED.

No, none: yet stay-one moment, ere we part-
I would behold ye face to face. I hear
Your voices, sweet and melancholy sounas,
As music on the waters; 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 accustom❜d forms.

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.

MANFRED.

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). Behold!

MANFRED.

Oh God! if it be thus, and thou

Art not a madness and a mockery,

I yet might be most happy.-I will clasp thee, And we again will be

[The figure vanishes.

My heart is crush'd!
[MANFRED falls senseless.

(A voice is heard in the Incantation which follows). 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;
When the falling stars are shooting,
And the answer'd owls are hooting,
And the silent leaves are still
In the shadow of the hill,
Shall my soul be upon thine,

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 gather'd in a cloud;
And for ever shalt thou dwell
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 turn'd around thy head;
Thou shalt marvel I am not
As thy shadow on the spot,
And the power which thou dost feel
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,
Which shall make thee wish it done.
From thy false tears I did distâ
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 snatch'd the snake,
For there it coil'd as in a brake;
From thy own lip I drew the charm
Which gave all these their chiefest harm;
In proving every poison known,

I found the strongest was thine own.

By thy cold breast and serpent smile,
By thy unfathom'd gulfs of guile,
By that most seeming virtuous eye,—
By thy shut soul's hypocrisy ;

By the perfection of thine art,

Which pass'd for human thine own heart;
By thy delight in others' pain,
And by thy brotherhood of Cain,
I call upon thee! and compel
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

Hath the word been pass'd-now wither!

SCENE II.

The Mountain of the Jungfrau.-Time, Morning.MANFRED alone upon the Cliffs.

MANFRED.

The spirits I have raised abandon me

The spells which I have studied baffle me— The remedy I reck'd of tortured me;

I lean no more on super-human aid,

It hath no power upon the past, and for

The future, till the past be gulf'd in darkness, It is not of my search.-My mother earth!

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,
That openest over all, and unto all
Art a delight-thou shinest 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 știr, 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;

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
зове
My own soul's sepulchre, for I have ceased
To justify my deeds unto myself—
The last infirmity of evil. Ay,
Thou winged and cloud-cleaving minister,

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!
How glorious in its action and itself!

But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we,
Half dust, half deity, alike unfit

To sink or soar, with our mix'd 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,

Mix'd with the sweet bells of the sauntering herd;
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-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 reach'd
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.

MANFRED (not perceiving the other).
To be thus-

Gray-hair'd with anguish, like these blasted pines,
Wrecks of a single winter, barkless, branchless,
A blighted trunk upon a cursed root,
Which but supplies a feeling to decay-

And to be thus, eternally but thus,

Having been otherwise! Now furrow'd o'er

With wrinkles, plough'd 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, bencath,
Crash with a frequent conflict; but ye pass,
And only fall on things that still would live;
On the young flourishing forest, or the hut
And hamlet of the harmless villager.

CHAMOIS HUNTER.

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.

MANFRED.

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.

CHAMOIS HUNTER.

I must approach him cautiously; if near, A sudden step will startle him, and he, Seems tottering already.

MANFRED.

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,
Dan.ming the rivers with a sudden dash,
Which crusli'd the waters into mist, and made
Their fountains find another channel-thus,
Thus, in its old age, did Mount Rosenburg-
Why stood I not beneath it?

CHAMOIS HUNTER.

Friend! have a care, Your next step may be fatal!—for the love Of him who made you, stand not on that brink! MANFRED (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 beIn this one plunge.-Farewell, ye opening heavens! Look not upon me thus reproachfully—

Ye were not meant for me-Earth! take these atoms [AS MANFRED is in act to spring from the clip, the CHAMOIS HUNTER seizes and retains him with a sudden grasp.]

CHAMOIS HUNTER.

Hold, madman!—though aweary of thy life, Stain not our pure vales with thy guilty blood.Away with me--I will not quit my hold.

MANFRED

I am most sick at heart-nay, grasp me not

I am all feebleness-the mountains whirl
Spinning around me-I grow blind. What art thou?

CHAMOIS HUNTER.

I'll answer that anon.-Away with me-
The clouds grow thicker-there-now lean on me—
Place 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-well-
The 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, 't is bravely donu-
You 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. CHAMOIS HUNTER.

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 guideBut whither?

MANFRED.

It imports not: I do know My route full well, and need no further guidance.

But nothing rests, save carcasses and wrecks, Rocks, and the salt-surf weeds of bitterness.

CHAMOIS HUNTER.

Alas! he's mad-but yet I must not leave him.

MANFRED.

I would I were-for then the things I see Would be but a distemper'd dream.

CHAMOIS HUNTER.

What is it That thou dost see, or think thou look'st upon?

MANFRED.

Myself and thee—a peasant of the Alps-
Thy humble virtues, hospitable home,
And spirit patient, pious, proud and free;
Thy self-respect, grafted on innocent thoughts;
Thy days of health, and nights of sleep; thy toils,
By danger dignified, yet guiltless; hopes
Of cheerful old age and a quiet grave,
With cross and garland over its green turf,
And thy grandchildren's love for epitaph:
This do I see-and then I look within--
It matters not--my soul was scorch'd already!

CHAMOIS HUNTER.

And wouldst thou then exchange thy lot for mine?

MANFRED.

No, friend! I would not wrong thee, nor exchange
My lot with living being: I can bear--
However wretchedly, 't is still to bear--
In life what others could not brook to dream,
But perish in their slumber.

CHAMOIS HUNTER.

Man of strange words, and some half-maddening
Which makes thee people vacancy, whate'er
Thy dread and sufferance be, there's comfort yet-
The aid of holy men, and heavenly patience