As I approach the core of my heart's grief-
But to my task. I have not named to thee
Father or mother, mistress, friend, or being,
With whom I wore the chain of human ties;
If I had such, they seem'd not such to me
Yet there was one-

Witch. Spare not thyself-proceed.

Man. She was like me in lineaments-her eyes,
Her hair, her features, all, to the very tone
Even of her voice, they said were like to mine;
But soften'd all, and temper'd into beauty:
She had the same lone thoughts and wanderings,
The quest of hidden knowledge, and a mind
To comprehend the universe: nor these
Alone, but with them gentler powers than mine,
Pity, and smiles, and tears-which I had not;
And tenderness-but that I had for her;
Humility-and that I never had.

Her faults were mine-her virtues were her own-
I loved her, and destroy'd her!

With thy hand?

Witch. Man. Not with my hand, but heart-which broke her heart ;It gazed on mine, and wither'd.

I have shed

Blood, but not hers-and yet her blood was shed ;

I saw-and could not stanch it.

Witch.

And for this

A being of the race thou dost despise,

The order which thine own would rise above,
Mingling with us and ours, thou dost forego

The gifts of our great knowledge, and shrink'st back
To recreant mortality-Away!

Man. Daughter of Air! I tell thee, since that hour-
But words are breath-look on me in my sleep.

Or watch my watchings-Come and sit by me

My solitude is solitude no more,

But peopled with the Furies;-I have gnash'd
My teeth in darkness till returning morn,
Then cursed myself till sunset; I have pray'd
For madness as a blessing-'tis denied me;
I have affronted death-but in the war
Of elements the waters shrunk from me,

And fatal things pass'd harmless-the cold hand
Of an all-pitiless demon held me back,

Back by a single hair, which would not break.
In fantasy, imagination, all

The affluence of my soul-which one day was
A Croesus in creation-I plunged deep,
But, like an ebbing wave, it dash'd me back
Into the gulf of my unfathom'd thought.
I plunged amidst mankind-Forgetfulness
I sought in all, save where 'tis to be found,
And that I have to learn-my sciences.
My long-pursued and superhuman art

Is mortal here-I dwell in my despair-
And live-and live for ever.

Witch.

That I can aid thee.

Man.

It may be

To do this thy power

Must wake the dead, or lay me low with them.

Do so-in any shape-in any hour

With any torture so it be the last.

Witch. That is not in my province; but if thou

Wilt swear obedience to my will, and do

My bidding, it may help thee to thy wishes.

Man. I will not swear-Obey! and whom? the spirits Whose presence I command, and be the slave

Of those who served me-Never!

Witch.

Is this all?

Hast thou no gentler answer?-Yet bethink thee,
And pause ere thou rejectest.

Man.

I have said it

Witch. Enough !-I may retire then-say!

Man.

Retire! [The WITCH disappears.

Man. (alone). We are the fools of time and terror: days Steal on us and steal from us; yet we live,

Loathing our life, and dreading still to die.

In all the days of this detested yoke

This vital weight upon the struggling heart,

Which sinks with sorrow, or beats quick with pain,
Or joy that ends in agony or faintness-

In all the days of past and future, for

In life there is no present, we can number
How few-how less thån few-wherein the soul
Forbears to pant for death, and yet draws back
As from a stream in winter, though the chill
Be but a moment's. I have one resource
Still in my science-I can call the dead,
And ask them what it is we dread to be:
The sternest answer can but be the Grave,
And that is nothing. If they answer not-
The buried Prophet answer'd to the Hag
Of Endor; and the Spartan Monarch drew
From the Byzantine maid's unsleeping spirit
An answer and his destiny-he slew
That which he loved, unknowing what he slew,
And died unpardon'd-though he call'd in aid
The Phyxian Jove, and in Phigalia roused
The Arcadian Evocators to compel
The indignant shadow to depose her wrath,
Or fixed her term of vengeance-she replied
In words of dubious import, but fulfill'd.*
If I had never lived, that which I love

The story of Pausanias, king of Sparta (who commanded the Greeks at the battle f Platea, and afterwards perished for an attempt to betray the Lacedæmonians), and Cleonice, is told in Plutarch's Life of Cimon; and in the Laconics of Pausanias the sophist, in his description of Greece.

Had still been living: bad I never love 1
That which I love would still be beautiful-
Happy and giving happiness. What is she?
What is she now-a sufferer for my sins-
A thing I dare not think upon-or nothing.
Within few hours I shall not call in vain-
Yet 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.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

The summit of the Jungfrau Mountain.

Enter FIRST DESTINY.

The moon is rising broad, and round, and bright;

And here on snows, where never human foot
Of common mortal trod, we nightly tread,
And leave no traces; o'er the savage sea,
The glassy ocean.of the mountain ice,
We skim its rugged breakers, which put on
The aspect of a tumbling tempest's foam,
Frozen in a moment-a dead whirlpool's image:
And this most steep fantastic pinnacle,

The fretwork of some earthquake-where the clouds
Pause to repose themselves in passing by-
Is sacred to our revels, or our vigils;
Here do I wait my sisters, on our way
To the Hall of Arimanes, for to-night

Is our great festival-'tis strange they come not.

A Voice without, singing.

The Captive Usurper,

Hurl'd down from the throne,
Lay buried in torpor,
Forgotten and lone;

I broke through his slumbers,
I shiver'd his chain,

I leagued him with numbers

He's Tyrant again!

With the blood of a million he'll answer my care,
With a nation's destruction-his flight and despair.

Second Voice, without.

The ship sail'd on, the ship sail'd fast,

But I left not a sail, and I left not a mast;

There is not a plank of the hull or the deck,

And there is not a wretch to lament o'er his wreck;
Save one, whom I held, as he swam, by the hair,
And he was a subject well worthy my care,

A traitor on land, and a pirate at sea

But I saved him to wreak further havoc for me!

FIRST DESTINY, answering.

The city lies sleeping;

The morn, to deplore it,
May dawn on it weeping:
Sullenly, slowly,

The black plague flew o'er it-
Thousands lie lowly;

Tens of thousands shall perish-
The living shail fly from
The sick they shall cherish;
But nothing can vanquish
The touch that they die from.
Sorrow and anguish,
And evil and dread,
Envelope a nation-
The blest are the dead,
Who see not the sight

Of their own desolation-
This work of a night-

This wreck of a realm-this deed of my doing-
For ages I've done, and shall still be renewing!

Enter the SECOND and THIRD DESTINIES.

The Three.

Our hands contain the hearts of men,

Our footsteps are their graves;

We only give to take again
The spirits of our slaves !

First Des. Welcome !-Where's Nemesis?

Second Des.

At some great work;

But what I know not, for my hands were full.
Third Des. Behold she cometh.

First Des.

Enter NEMESIS.

Say where hast thou been?

My sisters and thyself are slow to-night.

Nem. I was detain'd repairing shatter'd thrones,

Marrying fools, restoring dynasties,

Avenging men upon their enemies,

And making them repent their own revenge;
Goading the wise to madness; from the dull
Shaping out oracles to rule the world
Afresh, for they were waxing out of date,
And mortals dared to ponder for themselves,
To weigh kings in the balance, and to speak
Of freedom, the forbidden fruit.-Away!

We have outstay'd the hour-mcunt we our clouds!

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

The Hall of Arimanes-Arimanes on his Throne, a Globe
of Fire, surrounded by the Spirits.
Hymn of the SPIRITS.

Hail to our Master!-Prince of Earth and Air!
Who walks the clouds and waters-in his hand
The sceptre of the elements, which tear

Themselves to chaos at his high command!
He breatheth-and a tempest shakes the sea;
He speaketh-and the clouds reply in thunder;
He gazeth-from his glance the sunbeams flee;
He moveth-earthquakes rend the world asunder.
Beneath his footsteps the volcanoes rise;

His shadow is the Pestilence; his path
The comets herald through the crackling skies;
And planets turn to ashes at his wrath.
To him War offers daily sacrifice ;

To him Death pays his tribute; Life is his
With all its infinite of agonies-

And his the spirit of whatever is !

Enter the DESTINIES and NEMESIS.

First Des. Glory to Arimanes! on the earth
His power increaseth-both my sisters did
His bidding, nor did I neglect my duty!

Second Des. Glory to Arimanes! we who bow
The necks of men, bow down before his throne!
Third Des. Glory to Arimanes! we wait
His nod!

Nem.

Sovereign of sovereigns! we are thine,

And all that liveth, more or less, is ours,
And most things wholly so; still to increase
Our power, increasing thine, demands our care,
And we are vigilant-Thy late commands
Have been fulfill'd to the utmost.

A Spirit.

Enter MANFred.

What is here?

I do know the man

A mortal!-Thou most rash and fatal wretch,

Bow down and worship!

Second Spirit.

A Magian of great power, and fearful skill!

Third Spirit. Bow down, and worship, slave !—

What, know'st thou not

Thine and our Sovereign ?-Tremble and obey!

All the Spirits. Prostrate thyself, and thy condemned clav

Child of the Earth! or dread the worst.

Man.

And yet ye see I kneel not.
Fourth Spirit.

I know it;

"Twill be taught thee.

Man. "Tis taught already;-many a night on the carth,

On the hare ground, have I bow'd down my face.