The Works of Lord Byron Volume IV Part 16

_Spirit_. It is not in our essence, in our skill; But--thou may'st die.

_Man_. Will Death bestow it on me?

_Spirit_. We are immortal, and do not forget; We are eternal; and to us the past 150 Is, as the future, present. Art thou answered?

_Man_. 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,[at]

The lightning of my being, is as bright, Pervading, and far darting as your own, And shall not yield to yours, though cooped in clay!

Answer, or I will teach you what I am.[au]

_Spirit_. We answer--as we answered; our reply Is even in thine own words.

_Man_. Why say ye so? 160

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

_Man_. I then have called ye from your realms in vain; Ye cannot, or ye will not, aid me.

_Spirit_. Say--[113]

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

_Man_. Accursed! what have I to do with days?

They are too long already.--Hence--begone! 170

_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?

_Man._ No, none: yet stay--one moment, ere we part, I would behold ye face to face. I hear Your voices, sweet and melancholy sounds, As Music on the waters;[114] 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 accustomed forms. 180

_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.

_Man_. 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)_.[115] Behold!

_Man_. Oh G.o.d! if it be thus, and _thou_[116]

Art not a madness and a mockery, I yet might be most happy. I will clasp thee, 190 And we again will be---- [_The figure vanishes._ My heart is crushed!

[MANFRED _falls senseless_.

(_A voice is heard in the Incantation which follows._)[117]

When the Moon is on the wave, And the glow-worm in the gra.s.s, And the meteor on the grave, And the wisp on the mora.s.s;[118]

When the falling stars are shooting, And the answered owls are hooting, And the silent leaves are still In the shadow of the hill, Shall my soul be upon thine, 200 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 gathered in a cloud; And for ever shalt thou dwell 210 In the spirit of this spell.

Though thou seest me not pa.s.s 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 turned around thy head, Thou shalt marvel I am not As thy shadow on the spot, And the power which thou dost feel 220 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, 230 Which shall make thee wish it done.

From thy false tears I did distil 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 s.n.a.t.c.hed the snake, For there it coiled as in a brake; From thy own lip I drew the charm Which gave all these their chiefest harm; In proving every poison known, 240 I found the strongest was thine own.

By the cold breast and serpent smile, By thy unfathomed gulfs of guile, By that most seeming virtuous eye, By thy shut soul's hypocrisy; By the perfection of thine art Which pa.s.sed for human thine own heart; By thy delight in others' pain, And by thy brotherhood of Cain, I call upon thee! and compel[av] 250 Thyself to be thy proper h.e.l.l!

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 260 Hath the word been pa.s.sed--now wither!

SCENE II.--_The Mountain of the Jungfrau_.-- _Time, Morning_.--MANFRED _alone upon the cliffs._

_Man_. The spirits I have raised abandon me, The spells which I have studied baffle me, The remedy I recked of tortured me I lean no more on superhuman aid; It hath no power upon the past, and for The future, till the past be gulfed in darkness, It is not of my search.--My Mother Earth![119]

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, 10 That openest over all, and unto all Art a delight--thou shin'st 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 stir, 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; 20 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 My own Soul's sepulchre, for I have ceased To justify my deeds unto myself-- The last infirmity of evil. Aye, Thou winged and cloud-cleaving minister, 30 [_An Eagle pa.s.ses._ Whose happy flight is highest into heaven, Well may'st thou swoop so near me--I should be 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![120]

How glorious in its action and itself!

But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we, Half dust, half deity, alike unfit 40 To sink or soar, with our mixed 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, 50 Mixed with the sweet bells of the sauntering herd;[121]

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[122]--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 reached 60 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.

_Man_. (_not perceiving the other_). To be thus-- Grey-haired with anguish, like these blasted pines, Wrecks of a single winter, barkless, branchless,[123]

A blighted trunk upon a cursed root, Which but supplies a feeling to Decay-- And to be thus, eternally but thus, 70 Having been otherwise! Now furrowed o'er With wrinkles, ploughed 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, beneath, Crash with a frequent conflict;[124] but ye pa.s.s, And only fall on things that still would live; On the young flourishing forest, or the hut 80 And hamlet of the harmless villager.

_C. Hun_. 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.

_Man_. The mists boil up around the glaciers; clouds Rise curling fast beneath me, white and sulphury, Like foam from the roused ocean of deep h.e.l.l,[aw]

Whose every wave breaks on a living sh.o.r.e, Heaped with the d.a.m.ned like pebbles.--I am giddy.[125]

_C. Hun_. I must approach him cautiously; if near, 90 A sudden step will startle him, and he Seems tottering already.

_Man_. 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; Damming the rivers with a sudden dash, Which crushed the waters into mist, and made Their fountains find another channel--thus, Thus, in its old age, did Mount Rosenberg--[126]

Why stood I not beneath it?

_C. Hun_. Friend! have a care, 100 Your next step may be fatal!--for the love Of Him who made you, stand not on that brink!

_Man_. (_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 be-- In this one plunge.--Farewell, ye opening Heavens!

Look not upon me thus reproachfully-- You were not meant for me--Earth! take these atoms!

[_As_ MANFRED _is in act to spring from the cliff, the_ CHAMOIS HUNTER _seizes and retains him with a sudden grasp._

_C. Hun_. Hold, madman!--though aweary of thy life, 110 Stain not our pure vales with thy guilty blood: Away with me----I will not quit my hold.

_Man_. 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?