She is silent, And in that silence I am more than answered.110
Nem. My power extends no further. Prince of Air! It rests with thee alone—command her voice.
Ari. Spirit—obey this sceptre!
Nem. Silent still! She is not of our order, but belongs To the other powers. Mortal! thy quest is vain, And we are baffled also.
Man. Hear me, hear me— Astarte! my belovéd! speak to me: I have so much endured—so much endure— Look on me! the grave hath not changed thee more Than I am changed for thee. Thou lovedst me120 Too much, as I loved thee: we were not made To torture thus each other—though it were The deadliest sin to love as we have loved. Say that thou loath'st me not—that I do bear This punishment for both—that thou wilt be One of the blesséd—and that I shall die; For hitherto all hateful things conspire To bind me in existence—in a life Which makes me shrink from Immortality— A future like the past. I cannot rest.130 I know not what I ask, nor what I seek: I feel but what thou art, and what I am; And I would hear yet once before I perish The voice which was my music—Speak to me! For I have called on thee in the still night, Startled the slumbering birds from the hushed boughs, And woke the mountain wolves, and made the caves Acquainted with thy vainly echoed name, Which answered me—many things answered me— Spirits and men—but thou wert silent all.140 Yet speak to me! I have outwatched the stars, And gazed o'er heaven in vain in search of thee. Speak to me! I have wandered o'er the earth, And never found thy likeness—Speak to me! Look on the fiends around—they feel for me: I fear them not, and feel for thee alone. Speak to me! though it be in wrath;—but say— I reck not what—but let me hear thee once— This once—once more!
Phantom of Astarte. Manfred!
Man. Say on, say on— I live but in the sound—it is thy voice!150
Phan. Manfred! To-morrow ends thine earthly ills. Farewell!
Man. Yet one word more—am I forgiven?
Phan. Farewell!
Man. Say, shall we meet again?
Phan. Farewell!
Man. One word for mercy! Say thou lovest me.
Phan. Manfred! The Spirit of Astarte disappears.
Nem. She's gone, and will not be recalled: Her words will be fulfilled. Return to the earth.
A Spirit. He is convulsed—This is to be a mortal, And seek the things beyond mortality.
Another Spirit. Yet, see, he mastereth himself, and makes His torture tributary to his will.149160 Had he been one of us, he would have made An awful Spirit.
Nem. Hast thou further question Of our great Sovereign, or his worshippers?
Man. None.
Nem. Then for a time farewell.
Man. We meet then! Where? On the earth?— Even as thou wilt: and for the grace accorded I now depart a debtor. Fare ye well! Exit Manfred.
(Scene closes.)
ACT III.
Scene I.—A Hall in the Castle of Manfred.150
Manfred and Herman.
Man. What is the hour?
Her. It wants but one till sunset, And promises a lovely twilight.
Man. Say, Are all things so disposed of in the tower As I directed?
Her. All, my Lord, are ready: Here is the key and casket.151
Man. It is well: Thou mayst retire. Exit Herman.
Man. (alone). There is a calm upon me— Inexplicable stillness! which till now Did not belong to what I knew of life. If that I did not know Philosophy To be of all our vanities the motliest,10 The merest word that ever fooled the ear From out the schoolman's jargon, I should deem The golden secret, the sought "Kalon," found,152 And seated in my soul. It will not last, But it is well to have known it, though but once: It hath enlarged my thoughts with a new sense, And I within my tablets would note down That there is such a feeling. Who is there?
Re-enter Herman.
Her. My Lord, the Abbot of St. Maurice craves153 To greet your presence.
Enter the Abbot of St. Maurice.
Abbot. Peace be with Count Manfred!20
Man. Thanks, holy father! welcome to these walls; Thy presence honours them, and blesseth those Who dwell within them.
Abbot. Would it were so, Count!— But I would fain confer with thee alone.
Man. Herman, retire.—What would my reverend guest?
Abbot. Thus, without prelude:—Age and zeal—my office— And good intent must plead my privilege; Our near, though not acquainted neighbourhood, May also be my herald. Rumours strange, And of unholy nature, are abroad,30 And busy with thy name—a noble name For centuries: may he who bears it now Transmit it unimpaired!
Man. Proceed,—I listen.
Abbot. 'Tis said thou holdest converse with the things Which are forbidden to the search of man; That with the dwellers of the dark abodes, The many evil and unheavenly spirits Which walk the valley of the Shade of Death, Thou communest. I know that with mankind, Thy fellows in creation, thou dost rarely40 Exchange thy thoughts, and that thy solitude Is as an Anchorite's—were it but holy.
Man. And what are they who do avouch these things?
Abbot. My pious brethren—the scaréd peasantry— Even thy own vassals—who do look on thee With most unquiet eyes. Thy life's in peril!
Man. Take it.
Abbot. I come to save, and not destroy: I would not pry into thy secret soul; But if these things be sooth, there still is time For penitence and pity: reconcile thee50 With the true church, and through the church to Heaven.
Man. I hear thee. This is my reply—whate'er I may have been, or am, doth rest between Heaven and myself—I shall not choose a mortal To be my mediator—Have I sinned Against your ordinances? prove and punish!154
