Chapter 6

A Hall in the Castle of Manfred.

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.

_Man._ It is well: Thou may'st 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, The merest word that ever fool'd the ear From out the schoolman's jargon, I should deem The golden secret, the sought 'Kalon,' found, 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 craves To greet your presence.

_Enter the_ ABBOT OF ST. MAURICE.

_Abbot._ Peace be with Count Manfred!

_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?

[_Exit_ HERMAN.

_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, And busy with thy name--a noble name For centuries; may he who bears it now Transmit it unimpair'd.

_Man._ Proceed,--I listen.

_Abbot._ 'Tis said thou boldest 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 rarely 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 scared 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 thee 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 sinn'd Against your ordinances? prove and punish![1]

_Abbot._ Then, hear and tremble! For the headstrong wretch Who in the mail of innate hardihood Would shield himself, and battle for his sins, There is the stake on earth, and beyond earth eternal--

_Man._ Charity, most reverend father, Becomes thy lips so much more than this menace, That I would call thee back to it; but say, What wouldst thou with me?

_Abbot._ It may be there are Things that would shake thee--but I keep them back, And give thee till to-morrow to repent. Then if thou dost not all devote thyself To penance, and with gift of all thy lands To the monastery--

_Man._ I understand thee,--well!

_Abbot._ Expect no mercy; I have warned thee.

_Man._ (_opening the casket._) Stop-- There is a gift for thee within this casket.

[MANFRED _opens the casket, strikes a light, and burns some incense._

Ho! Ashtaroth!

_The_ DEMON ASHTAROTH _appears, singing as follows:--_

The raven sits On the raven-stone, And his black wing flits O'er the milk-white bone; To and fro, as the night-winds blow, The carcass of the assassin swings; And there alone, on the raven-stone[2], The raven flaps his dusky wings.

The fetters creak--and his ebon beak Croaks to the close of the hollow sound; And this is the tune by the light of the moon To which the witches dance their round-- Merrily, merrily, cheerily, cheerily, Merrily, speeds the ball: The dead in their shrouds, and the demons in clouds, Flock to the witches' carnival.

_Abbot._ I fear thee not--hence--hence-- Avaunt thee, evil one!--help, ho! without there!

_Man._ Convey this man to the Shreckhorn--to its peak-- To its extremest peak--watch with him there From now till sunrise; let him gaze, and know He ne'er again will be so near to heaven. But harm him not; and, when the morrow breaks, Set him down safe in his cell--away with him!

_Ash._ Had I not better bring his brethren too, Convent and all, to bear him company?

_Man._ No, this will serve for the present. Take him up.

_Ash._ Come, friar! now an exorcism or two, And we shall fly the lighter.

ASHTAROTH _disappears with the_ ABBOT, _singing as follows:--_

A prodigal son and a maid undone, And a widow re-wedded within the year; And a worldly monk and a pregnant nun, Are things which every day appear.

MANFRED _alone._

_Man._ Why would this fool break in on me, and force My art to pranks fantastical?--no matter, It was not of my seeking. My heart sickens, And weighs a fix'd foreboding on my soul; But it is calm--calm as a sullen sea After the hurricane; the winds are still, But the cold waves swell high and heavily, And there is danger in them. Such a rest Is no repose. My life hath been a combat. And every thought a wound, till I am scarr'd In the immortal part of me--What now?

_Re-enter_ HERMAN.

_Her._ My lord, you bade me wait on you at sunset: He sinks behind the mountain.

_Man._ Doth he so? I will look on him.

[MANFRED _advances to the window of the hall._

Glorious orb![3] the idol Of early nature, and the vigorous race Of undiseased mankind, the giant sons Of the embrace of angels, with a sex More beautiful than they, which did draw down The erring spirits who can ne'er return.-- Most glorious orb! that wert a worship, ere The mystery of thy making was reveal'd! Thou earliest minister of the Almighty, Which gladden'd, on their mountain tops, the hearts Of the Chaldean shepherds, till they pour'd Themselves in orisons! Thou material God! And representative of the Unknown-- Who chose thee for his shadow! Thou chief star! Centre of many stars! which mak'st our earth Endurable, and temperest the hues And hearts of all who walk within thy rays! Sire of the seasons! Monarch of the climes, And those who dwell in them! for, near or far, Our inborn spirits have a tint of thee, Even as our outward aspects;--thou dost rise, And shine, and set in glory. Fare thee well! I ne'er shall see thee more. As my first glance Of love and wonder was for thee, then take My latest look: thou wilt not beam on one To whom the gifts of life and warmth have been Of a more fatal nature. He is gone: I follow. [_Exit_ MANFRED.