Count Manfred was, as now, within his tower,
How occupied, we knew not, but with him
The sole companion of his wanderings

And watchings her, whom of all earthly things
That lived, the only thing he seem'd to love,
As he, indeed, by blood was bound to do,

The forfeit of my fault, if fault there be

But I must see him.

Her.

Thou hast seen him once

This eve already.

Abbot.

Herman! I command thee,

Knock, and apprise the Count of my approach.

We dare not.

Her.

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-shining mountains. - Beautiful!
I linger yet with Nature, for the night
Hath been to me a more familiar face

Than that of man; and in her starry shade

Of dim and solitary loveliness,

I learn'd 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,

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 bay'd beyond the Tiber; and
More near from out the Cæsars' palace came
The owl's long cry, and, interruptedly,
Of distant sentinels the fitful song
Begun and died upon the gentle wind.
Some cypresses beyond the time-worn breach
Appear'd to skirt the horizon, yet they stood
Within a bowshot. Where the Cæsars dwelt,
And dwell the tuneless birds of night, amidst
A grove which springs through levell'd battlements
And twines its roots with the imperial hearths,
Ivy usurps the laurel's place of growth ; -
But the gladiators' bloody Circus stands,
A noble wreck in ruinous perfection!

While Caesar's chambers and the Augustan halls
Grovel on earth in indistinct decay.

And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, upon
All this, and cast a wide and tender light,
Which soften'd down the hoar austerity
Of rugged desolation, and fill'd up,
As 't were 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

"The gladiators' bloody circus stands, A noble wreck in ruinous perfection!"

- Manfred, Act III, Scene IV, p 40.