Selected Poems (87 page)

These shall be thine.

MANFRED
:Oblivion, self-oblivion –

145

Can ye not wring from out the hidden realms

Ye offer so profusely what I ask?

SPIRIT
: It is not in our essence, in our skill;

But — thou mayst die.

MANFRED
:Will death bestow it on me?

SPIRIT
: We are immortal, and do not forget;

150

We are eternal; and to us the past

Is, as the future, present. Art thou answer’d?

MANFRED
: 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

155

The lightning of my being, is as bright,

Pervading, and far darting as your own,

And shall not yield to yours, though coop’d in clay!

Answer, or I will teach you what I am.

SPIRIT
: We answer as we answer’d; our reply

160

Is even in thine own words.

MANFRED
:Why say ye so?

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.

MANFRED
: I then have call’d ye from your realms in vain;

165

Ye cannot, or ye will not, aid me.

SPIRIT
: Say;

What we possess we offer; it is thine:

Bethink ere thou dismiss us, ask again —

Kingdom, and sway, and strength, and length of days—

MANFRED
: Accursed! what have I to do with days?

170

They are too long already. – Hence – begone!

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?

MANFRED
: No, none: yet stay — one moment, ere we part —

175

I would behold ye face to face. I hear

Your voices, sweet and melancholy sounds,

As music on the waters; and I see

The steady aspect of a clear large star;

But nothing more. Approach me as ye are,

180

Or one, or all, in your accustom’d forms.

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.

MANFRED
: I have no choice; there is no form on earth

185

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
]: Behold

MANFRED
:Oh God! if it be thus, and
thou

Art not a madness and a mockery,

190

I yet might be most happy. I will clasp thee,

And we again will be —

[The figure vanishes.]

My heart is crush’d!

[
MANFRED
falls senseless
.]

[
A Voice is heard in the Incantation which follows.
]

When the moon is on the wave,

And the glow-worm in the grass,

And the meteor on the grave,

195

And the wisp on the morass;

When the falling stars are shooting,

And the answer’d owls are hooting,

And the silent leaves are still

In the shadow of the hill,

200

Shall my soul be upon thine,

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,

205

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 gather’d in a cloud;

210

And for ever shalt thou dwell

In the spirit of this spell.

Though thou seest me not pass by,

Thou shalt feel me with thine eye

As a thing that, though unseen,

215

Must be near thee, and hath been;

And when in that secret dread

Thou hast turn’d around thy head,

Thou shalt marvel I am not

As thy shadow on the spot,

220

And the power which thou dost feel

Shall be what thou must conceal.

And a magic voice and verse

Hath baptized thee with a curse;

And a spirit of the air

225

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;

230

And the day shall have a sun,

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

235

The black blood in its blackest spring;

From thy own smile I snatch’d the snake,

For there it coil’d as in a brake;

From thy own lip I drew the charm

Which gave all these their chiefest harm;

240

In proving every poison known,

I found the strongest was thine own.

By thy cold breast and serpent smile,

By thy unfathom’d gulfs of guile,

By that most seeming virtuous eye,

245

By thy shut soul’s hypocrisy;

By the perfection of thine art

Which pass’d for human thine own heart;

By thy delight in others’ pain,

And by thy brotherhood of Cain,

250

I call upon thee! and compel

Thyself to be thy proper Hell!

And on th head I pour the vial

Which doth devote thee to this trial;

Nor to slumber, nor to die,

255

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;

260

O’er thy heart and brain together

Hath the word been pass’d – now wither!

SCENE II

The Mountain of the Jungfrau. — Time, Morning.
—
MANFRED
alone upon the Cliffs.

MANFRED
: The spirits I have raised abandon me –

The spells which I have studied baffle me —

The remedy I reck’d of tortured me;

I lean no more on super-human aid,

5

It hath no power upon the past, and for

The future, till the past be gulf’d in darkness,

It is not of my search. – My mother Earth!

And thou fresh breaking Day, and you, ye Mountains,

Why are ye beautiful? I cannot love ye.

10

And thou, the bright eye of the universe,

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

15

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?

20

I feel the impulse – yet I do not plunge;

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;

25

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. Ay,

30

Thou winged and cloud-cleaving minister,

[An eagle passes.)

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