MANFRED; A DRAMATIC POE M. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. DRAMATIS PERSON Æ. BRITISH MANFRED. CHAMOIS HUNTER. ABBOT OF ST. MAURICE MANUEL. HERMAN. WITCH OF THE ALPS. ARIMANES. NEMESIS. THE DESTINIES. SPIRITS, &c. The Scene of the Drama is amongst the Higher Alps-partly in the Castle of Manfred, and partly in the Mountains. MANFRED. ACT I. SCENE I.-A GOTHIC GALLERY.-TIME, MIDNIGHT. : MANFRED (alone). THE lamp must be replenish'd, but even then Since that all-nameless hour. I have no dread, And feel the curse to have no natural fear, Nor fluttering throb, that beats with hopes or wishes, Mysterious agency! Ye spirits of the unbounded universe! Whom I have sought in darkness and in light— Ye who do compass earth about, and dwell In subtler essence-ye, to whom the tops Of mountains inaccessible are haunts, And earth's and ocean's caves familiar things— I call upon ye by the written charm Which gives me power upon you-Rise! appear! [A pause. They come not yet.-Now by the voice of him Who is the first among you-by this sign, Which makes you tremble-by the claims of him Who is undying, rise! appear!-Appear! [A pause. If it be so.-Spirits of earth and air, Ye shall not thus elude me : by a power, A wandering hell in the eternal space; By the strong curse which is upon my soul, The thought which is within me and around me, I do compel ye to my will.-Appear! [A star is seen at the darker end of the gallery; it is stationary; and a voice is heard singing. 1st Spirit. Mortal! to thy bidding bow'd, From my mansion in the cloud, Which the breath of twilight builds, And the summer sun-set gilds With the azure and vermilion, Which is mix'd for my pavilion ; Though thy quest may be forbidden, 2d Spir. Mont-Blanc is the monarch of mountains, On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a diadem of snow. Around his waist are forests braced, The avalanche in his hand; Or with its ice delay. BRITISH 4th Spir. Where the slumbering earthquake Lies pillow'd on fire, And the lakes of bitumen Rise boilingly higher; Where the roots of the Andes Strike deep in the earth, As their summits to heaven 5th Spir. I am the rider of the wind, The hurricane I left behind The fleet I met sail'd well, and yet 'T will sink ere night be past. 6th Spir. My dwelling is the shadow of the night: Why does thy magic torture me with light? 7th Spir. The star which rules thy destiny |