Earth, ocean, air, night, mountains, winds, thy star, What wouldst thou with us, son of mortals say?' The songs of six of these Spirits have not much spirit in them but the Mountain-Spirit sings with better effect: • Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains, They crowned him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, Around his waist are forests braced, But I am he who bids it Or with its ice delay. pass, I am the spirit of the place, Could make the mountain bow And what with me wouldst Thou?' Manfred demands of them oblivion, self-oblivion:' but this, unfortunately, is the only boon which they cannot confer. He then desires to see them face to face, and the Spirit of his star appears in the shape of a beautiful female, which, on his attempting to clasp it, vanishes, and he falls senseless. A voice is next heard in a long and fearful incantation, in the style of the famed curse of Kehama, of which we shall quote only the concluding lines: By thy cold breast and serpent smile, By thy unfathom'd gulfs of guile, By that most seeming virtuous eye, Which pass'd for human thine own heart; And on thy head I pour the vial 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 This incantation was included in Lord Byron's last publication, "The Prisoner of Chillon and other Poems ;" and, by the intimation prefixed, it appears that this "Witch Drama," as it is there designated, was begun some years ago. The opening of the second scene is in better taste. A pleasing and pathetic melancholy pervades the sentiments uttered by Manfred as he wanders alone on the Alps, which makes us doubtful whether most to pity the mind that is a prey to them or to admire the power of expressing them so well; and they shew a capacity in the poet (for it is ever impossible wholly to disunite Lord Byron and his hero) not only for the most refined enjoyment but for superior virtue. We have not room for the whole, but we must not omit the following lines: How beautiful is all this visible world! How glorious in its action and itself; But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we, To sink or soar, with our mix'd essence make And men are what they name not to themselves, And trust not to each other. [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; Oh, that I were My soul would drink those echoes. This soliloquy is closed with Manfred's determination to rid himself of life: but, when in the aet of springing from the cliff, he is seized and retained by a Chamois hunter, who conducts him in safety to his cottage. There the Second Act opens with a scene of much force, in which Manfred alludes to some half-maddening sin;' and, in answer to a natural exclamation of his host, Alas, he's mad!' he says, I would I were C. Hun. What is it • Man. That thou dost see, or think thou look'st upon? Man. Myself, and thee a peasant of the Alps- And spirit patient, pious, proud and free; It matters not my soul was scorch'd already!' He leaves the hunter; and in the next scene, where a description is given of an Alpine sun-bow, he calls up the Witch of the Alps, from his conversation with whom we are made acquainted with a little more of his history: From my youth upwards My spirit walk'd not with the souls of men, Nor midst the creatures of clay that girded me - Manfred then describes his daily pastimes,' viz. to breathe the difficult air of the iced mountain's top,'-to roll along the torrent, to observe the stars, to catch the lightnings till his eyes grew dim,'-and to pass the nights of years in sciences untaught.' Having enlarged on these ideas, he thus proceeds: Oh! I but thus prolonged my words, As I approach the core of my heart's grief- *How different is the youthful picture of himself which Milton has supposed our Saviour to draw! "When I was yet a child, no childish play t Paradise Regained, i. 201. • Witch. - her eyes, Witch. Spare not thyself-proceed. Alone, but with them gentler powers than mine, Humility and that I never had. Her faults were mine- her virtues were her own • Witch. With thy hand? 'Man. Not with my hand, but heart heart which broke her It gazed on mine, and withered. I have shed and yet her blood was shedI saw - and could not staunch it.' This passage, obscure as it is, affords the most guidance to the conjecture to which we are finally left respecting the crime of Manfred. After a grand picture of his despair, he refuses the offer of the witch to aid him if he will " do her bidding:" 'I will not swear- obey! and whom? the spirits Whose presence I command, and be the slave Of those who served me. - never!'. He then resolves to use his only remaining resource, to call the dead,' and thus forcibly concludes the scene: Within few hours I shall not call in vainYet in this hour I dread the thing I dare: Until this hour I never shrunk to gaze On spirit, good or evil-now I tremble, And feel a strange cold thaw upon my heart, But I can act even what I most abhor, And champion human fears. The night approaches.' The succeeding scene is the meeting of Nemesis and the three Destinies, in their way to the hall of Arimanes;' where we are next introduced to that dread power, seated on a globe of fire, and surrounded by the spirits; whose hymn, 'He breatheth; and a tempest shakes the sea He speaketh,' &c. rather too closely reminds us of the chorus of " Great Jove in his chair," in the opening of Midas: "When he winks, Heaven shrinks, When he speaks," &c. Manfred enters, and, being a magian of great power, and fearful skill,' he is as disobedient to the tremendous personage REV. JULY, 1817. X or on the throne of fire as Lord Amherst is reported to have been to his Imperial Majesty of China. He demands that they should call up the dead;' She appears; and, after an address from him, of much beauty and pathos, she is induced to speak, but merely tells him that to-morrow ends his earthly ills.' The third act is chiefly occupied by the attempts of the Abbot of St. Maurice to convert Manfred. Of course, they are unavailing. In the Abbot's second interview, - the evening of the day of Manfred's pre-disclosed death being at hand, -the spirits rise to claim their victim: but he, though he feels his soul is ebbing from him,' defies their power: they disappear; and he expires, uttering these words: 'Tis over my dull eyes can fix thee not; But all things swim around me, and the earth In this act is a very beautiful address to the setting sun; 'which, however, we must exclude, in order to close our extracts with the following reflections on night, the softened beauty of which almost redeems the unpleasing wildness that precedes them: The stars are forth, the moon above the tops I learn'd the language of another world. A grove |