Enter LADY BLUEBOTTLE, MISS LILAC, LADY BLUE- Sir Rich. (bows, and afterwards aside.) If friends, Lady Blueb. next me. Lady Bleum. Pray, sir! did you mean Never mind if he did; 't will be scen That whatever he means won't alloy what he says. But the luncheon attends. I pray ye be seated, sans ceremonie." Mr. Scamp, you're fatigued; take your chair there, [They all sit. Ink. Pray be content with your portion of praise: Sir Rich. (aside.) If he does, his fatigue is to come. 'T was in your defence. Lady Blueb. Mr. Tracy- Both. Lady Bluemount-Miss Lilac-be pleased, pray, to place ye; And you, Mr. Botherby Both. I obey. Oh, my dear Lady, As a footman? Lady Bluem. Lady Blueb. Never mind our friend Inkel; we all T is his way. Sir Rich. Ink. A lecturer's. But this place Is perhaps like friend Scamp's, If you please, with submission, I Both. At last? Ink. Why I thought-that 's to say-there had past A few green-room whispers, which hinted-you know That the taste of the actors at best is so so. Both. Sir, the green-room 's in rapture, and so 's the Ink. Ay-yours are the plays for exciting our "pity Both. I have written the prologue, and meant to have For a spice of your wit in an epilogue's aid. Both. The actors are fighting for parts, the first Tra. And you promised the epilogue, Inkel. Ink. To do justice to what goes before. Both. Sir, I'm happy to say, I've no fears on that score. Your parts, Mr. Inkel, are———— Ink. of rhymes? Ink. Yes, ma'am; and a fugitive reader sometimes Will right these great men, and this age's severity I've no sort of objection, will take? Ink. Not at all; on the contrary, those of the lake Lady Blueb. Come, a truce with all tartness :—the Is to see Nature's triumph o'er all that is art. Wild Nature!-Grand Shakspeare! Both And down Aristotle ! Lady Bluem. Sir George thinks exactly with Lady Bluebottle; And my Lord Seventy-four, who protects our dear Bard, Tra. Well, one thing is certain, that some must be fools. I should like to know who. And I should not be sorry To know who are not :-it would save us some worry. Lady Blueb. A truce with remark, and let nothing control This "feast of our reason, and flow of the soul." I wish her much joy on 't. "T is the source of al! sentiment-feeling's true fountain: "T is the Vision of Heaven upon Earth: 't is the gas Of the soul: 't is the seizing of shades as they pass, And making them substance: 't is something divine :Ink. Shall I help you, my friend, to a little more wine? Both. I thank you; not any more, sir, till I dine. Ink. Apropos-Do you dine with Sir Humphrey today? Tra. I should think with Duke Humphrey was more in your way. Out of "Elegant Extracts." Well, now we break up; For the sciences, sandwiches, hock, and champagne ! Is worth-God knows what. 'T is at least worth concealing For itself, or what follows-But here comes your carriage. Sir Rich. (aside.) I wish all these people were d-d with my marriage! •Fact from life, with the words. Thou mayst retire. Her. My lord, the Abbot of St. Maurice craves Enter the ABBOTT OF ST. MAURICE. Abbot. Peace be with Count Manfred! Man. Thanks, holy father! welcome to these walls: Thy presence honours 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: And busy with thy name-a noble name Man. And what are they who do avouch these tips? I I come to save, and not destroy would not pry into thy secret soul; But if these things be sooth, there still is time [Exeunt. With the true church, and through the church to heaven See Letter to Mr. Murray, April 14, 1817, page 113. Man. I hear thee. This is my reply ; whate’er Abbot. Then, hear and tremble! For the headstrong wretch Who in the mail of innate hardihood Would shield himself, and battle for his sins, There is the stake on earth, and beyond earth eternal- Becomes thy lips so much more than this menace, It may be there are Abbot. And give the till to-morow to repent. To penance, and with gift of all thy lands Man. I understand thee,-well. Abbot. Expect no mercy; I have warned thee. There is a gift for thee within this casket. [MANFRED advances to the window of the hall Of early nature, and the vigorous race Stop-Most glorious orb! that wert a worship, ere [MANFRED opens the casket, strikes a light, Thou earliest minister of the Almighty, and burns some incense. Ho! Ashtaroth! Which gladden'd, on their mountain tops, the hearts The DEMON ASHTAROTH appears, singing as follows: Themselves in orisons! thou material God! The raven sits On the raven stone, And his black wing flits O'er the milk white bone; To and fro, as the night winds blow, The raven flaps his dusky wings. Croaks to the close of the hollow sound; Merrily, merrily, cheerily, cheerily, And representative of the Unknown Who chose thee for his shadow! thou chief star! And hearts of all who walk within thy rays! Of love and wonder for thee, then take The dead in their shrouds, and the demons in clouds, I follow. Flock to the witches' carnival. Abbot. I fear thee not-hence-hence Avaunt thee, evil one!-help, ho! without there! [Exit MANFRED. SCENE II.-The Mountains-The Castle of Manfred at some distance-A Terrace before a Tower.-Time, Twilight. Man. Convey this man to the Shreckhorn-to its HERMAN, MANUEL, and other Dependants of MANFRED. peak To its extremest peak-watch with him there But harm him not; and when the morrow breaks, Ash. Had I not better bring his brethren too, Her. 'Tis strange enough; night after night, for He hath pursued long vigils in this tower, Man. No, this will serve for the present. Take him up. One chamber where none enter; I would give And we shall fly the lighter. ASHTAROTH disappears with the ABBOT, singing A prodigal son and a maid undone, Man. Why would this fool break in on me, and force • It will be perceived that, as far as this, the original matter of the Third Act has been retained. "Raven-stone, (Rabenstein,) a translation of the German word for the gibbet, which in Germany and Switzerland is permanent, and made f stone. The fee of what I have to come these three years, 'T were dangerous; Content thyself with what thou know'st already. Her. Ah! Manuel! thou art elderly and wise, Manuel. Ere Count Manfred's birth, I speak not • This soliloquy, and a great part of the subaquent scene, have brea retained in the present form of the drama. Must change their chieftain first. Oh! I have seen Her. [They sprinkle MANFRED with water; after a pause he gives some signs of life. Manuel. He seems to strive to speak-come, cheerly He moves his lips-canst hear him? I am old, [HERMAN inclining his head and listening. 'T will soon be over. Manuel. Oh! what a death is this! that I should live To shake my gray hairs over the last chief Of the house of Sigismund.-And such a death! Alone-we know not how-unshrived-untendedWith strange accompaniments and fearful signsI shudder at the sight-but must not leave him. Manfred. (speaking faintly and slowly.) Old man It is 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 de parts Whither? I dread to think-But he is gone! TO MY DEAR MARY ANNE. Look-look-the tower-[THE FOLLOWING LINES ARE THE EARLIEST WRITTEN BY The 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 approach, stupified with terror. If there be any of you who have heart And love of human kind, and will to aid Her. [MANUEL goes in. Come-who follows? The flame that within my heart burns I wish not your peace to disturb, Not ten thousand lovers could feel The friendship my bosom contains; It will ever within my heart dwell, While the warm blood flows through my veins. May the Ruler of Heaven look down, Once more, my sweet Mary, adieu! For ever I'll think upon you While this heart in my bosom shall beat. TO MISS CHAWORTH. Oh Memory, torture me no more, To Thee, my God, to Thee I call! With clay the grave's eternal bed, 29th Dec. 1806 Now no more my Mary smiling Makes ye seem a heaven to me. THE PRAYER OF NATURE. Thou see'st my soul is dark within; Spare, yet amend, the faults of youth. Let superstition hail the pile, To Gothic domes of mouldering stone? Thy temple is the face of day; 805. Earth, ocean, heaven thy boundless throne. Shall man condemn his race to hell Unless they bend in pompous form; Must perish in the mingling storm? Their great Creator's purpose know? And live beyond the bounds of Time? Father! no prophet's laws I seek,— Thy laws in Nature's works appear ;I own myself corrupt and weak, Yet will I pray, for thou wilt hear! Thou, who canst guide the wandering star Through trackless realms of ether's space; Who calm'st the elemental war, Whose hand from pole to pole I trace:Thou, who in wisdom placed me here, Who, when thou wilt, can take me hence, Ah! whilst I tread this earthly sphere, Extend to me thy wide defence. FRAGMENT. [When Lord Byron first went to Newstead on his arrival from Aberdeen, he planted a young oak in some part of the grounds, and bað an idea that as it flourished, so should he. Some six or seven years after, on revisiting the spot, he found his oak choked up by wer is, and airiost destroyed. The following opening lines are a specimen of the poem he wrote on the occasion.] YOUNG Oak, when I planted thee deep in the ground, I hoped that thy days would be longer than mine; That thy dark-waving branches would flourish around And ivy thy trunk with its mantle entwine. Such, such was my hope, when, in infancy's years, I left thee, my Oak, and, since that fatal hour, |