The Works of Lord Byron Volume IV Part 22

_Abbot_. Upon myself I take The forfeit of my fault, if fault there be-- But I must see him.

_Her_. Thou hast seen him once his eve already.

_Abbot_. Herman! I command thee,[bf]

Knock, and apprize the Count of my approach.

_Her_. We dare not.

_Abbot_. Then it seems I must be herald Of my own purpose.

_Manuel_. Reverend father, stop-- I pray you pause.

_Abbot_. Why so?

_Manuel_. But step this way, And I will tell you further. [_Exeunt_.

SCENE IV.--_Interior of the Tower_.

MANFRED _alone_.

The stars are forth, the moon above the tops Of the snow-s.h.i.+ning mountains.--Beautiful!

I linger yet with Nature, for the Night[165]

Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man; and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness, I learned the language of another world.

I do remember me, that in my youth, When I was wandering,--upon such a night I stood within the Coliseum's wall,[166] 10 'Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome; The trees which grew along the broken arches Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars Shone through the rents of ruin; from afar The watch-dog bayed beyond the Tiber; and More near from out the Caesars' palace came The owl's long cry, and, interruptedly,[167]

Of distant sentinels the fitful song Begun and died upon the gentle wind.[168]

Some cypresses beyond the time-worn breach 20 Appeared to skirt the horizon, yet they stood Within a bowshot. Where the Caesars dwelt, And dwell the tuneless birds of night, amidst A grove which springs through levelled battlements, And twines its roots with the imperial hearths, Ivy usurps the laurel's place of growth; But the gladiators' b.l.o.o.d.y Circus stands, A n.o.ble wreck in ruinous perfection, While Caesar's chambers, and the Augustan halls, Grovel on earth in indistinct decay.-- 30 And thou didst s.h.i.+ne, thou rolling Moon, upon All this, and cast a wide and tender light, Which softened down the h.o.a.r austerity Of rugged desolation, and filled up, As 'twere anew, the gaps of centuries; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not--till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent wors.h.i.+p of the Great of old,-- The dead, but sceptred, Sovereigns, who still rule 40 Our spirits from their urns.

'Twas such a night!

'Tis strange that I recall it at this time; But I have found our thoughts take wildest flight Even at the moment when they should array Themselves in pensive order.

_Enter the_ ABBOT.

_Abbot_. My good Lord!

I crave a second grace for this approach; But yet let not my humble zeal offend By its abruptness--all it hath of ill Recoils on me; its good in the effect May light upon your head--could I say _heart_-- 50 Could I touch _that_, with words or prayers, I should Recall a n.o.ble spirit which hath wandered, But is not yet all lost.

_Man_. Thou know'st me not; My days are numbered, and my deeds recorded: Retire, or 'twill be dangerous--Away!

_Abbot_. Thou dost not mean to menace me?

_Man_. Not I!

I simply tell thee peril is at hand, And would preserve thee.

_Abbot_. What dost thou mean?

_Man_. Look there!

What dost thou see?

_Abbot_. Nothing.

_Man_. Look there, I say, And steadfastly;--now tell me what thou seest? 60

_Abbot_. That which should shake me,--but I fear it not: I see a dusk and awful figure rise, Like an infernal G.o.d, from out the earth; His face wrapt in a mantle, and his form Robed as with angry clouds: he stands between Thyself and me--but I do fear him not.

_Man_. Thou hast no cause--he shall not harm thee--but His sight may shock thine old limbs into palsy.

I say to thee--Retire!

_Abbot_. And I reply-- Never--till I have battled with this fiend:-- 70 What doth he here?

_Man_. Why--aye--what doth he here?

I did not send for him,--he is unbidden.

_Abbot_. Alas! lost Mortal! what with guests like these Hast thou to do? I tremble for thy sake: Why doth he gaze on thee, and thou on him?

Ah! he unveils his aspect: on his brow The thunder-scars are graven; from his eye[169]

Glares forth the immortality of h.e.l.l-- Avaunt!--

_Man_. p.r.o.nounce--what is thy mission?

_Spirit_. Come!

_Abbot_. What art thou, unknown being? answer!--speak! 80

_Spirit_. The genius of this mortal.--Come!'tis time.

_Man_. I am prepared for all things, but deny The Power which summons me. Who sent thee here?

_Spirit_. Thou'lt know anon--Come! come!

_Man_. I have commanded Things of an essence greater far than thine, And striven with thy masters. Get thee hence!

_Spirit_. Mortal! thine hour is come--Away! I say.

_Man_. I knew, and know my hour is come, but not To render up my soul to such as thee: Away! I'll die as I have lived--alone. 90

_Spirit_. Then I must summon up my brethren.--Rise![bg]

[_Other Spirits rise._

_Abbot_. Avaunt! ye evil ones!--Avaunt! I say,-- Ye have no power where Piety hath power, And I do charge ye in the name--

_Spirit_. Old man!

We know ourselves, our mission, and thine order; Waste not thy holy words on idle uses, It were in vain: this man is forfeited.

Once more--I summon him--Away! Away!

_Man_. I do defy ye,--though I feel my soul Is ebbing from me, yet I do defy ye; 100 Nor will I hence, while I have earthly breath To breathe my scorn upon ye--earthly strength To wrestle, though with spirits; what ye take Shall be ta'en limb by limb.

_Spirit_. Reluctant mortal!

Is this the Magian who would so pervade The world invisible, and make himself Almost our equal? Can it be that thou Art thus in love with life? the very life Which made thee wretched?

_Man_. Thou false fiend, thou liest!

My life is in its last hour,--_that_ I know, 110 Nor would redeem a moment of that hour; I do not combat against Death, but thee And thy surrounding angels; my past power Was purchased by no compact with thy crew, But by superior science--penance, daring, And length of watching, strength of mind, and skill In knowledge of our Fathers--when the earth Saw men and spirits walking side by side, And gave ye no supremacy: I stand Upon my strength--I do defy--deny-- 120 Spurn back, and scorn ye!--