I know too wellAnd knew it ere yourself, unhappy sire! Farewell!

[Exit GABOR. SIEGENDORF (solus and listening).

He hath clear'd the staircase. Ah! I hear The door sound loud behind him! He is safe! Safe!-Oh, my father 's spirit!-I am faint

[He leans down upon a stone seat, near the wall of the Tower, in a drooping posture.

Enter ULRIC, with others armed, and with weapons drawn.

Despatch!-he's there!

Yes if you want another victim, strike!

ULRIC (seeing him stript of his jewels). Where is the ruffian who hath plunder'd you? Vassals, despatch in search of him! You see

"T was as I said--the wretch hath stript my father Of jewels which might form a prince's heirloom! Away! I'll follow you forthwith.

[Exeunt all but SIEGENDORF and ULRIC. What's this?

Where is the villain?

Are you in quest of?

Of this: he must be found. Escape?

He's gone.

My fullest, freest aid.

Stop! I command-entreat-implore! Oh, Ulric! Will you then leave me?

Denounced-dragg'd, it may be, in chains; and all
By your inherent weakness, half-humanity,
Selfish remorse, and temporising pity,
That sacrifices your whole race to save
A wretch to profit by our ruin! No, count,
Henceforth you have no son!

And would you ne'er had borne the useless na

A burthen to the earth, myself, and shame
Unto what brought me into life? Thou blood,
Which flowest so freely from a scratch, let me
Try if thou wilt not in a fuller stream
Pour forth my woes for ever with thyself
On earth, to which I will restore at once
This hateful compound of her atoms, and
Resolve back to her elements, and take
The shape of any reptile save myself,

And make a world for myriads of new worms!
This knife! now let me prove if it will sever
This wither'd slip of nature's nightshade-my
Vile form-from the creation, as it hath
The green bough from the forest.

STRANGER.

Unless you keep company

With him (and you seem scarce used to such high
Society) you can't tell how he approaches;
And for his aspect, look upon the fountain,
And then on me, and judge which of us twain
Look likest what the boors believe to be
Their cloven-footed terror.

ARNOLD.

Do you dare you

To taunt me with my born deformity?

STRANGER.

Were I to taunt a buffalo with this
Cloven foot of thine, or the swift dromedary

the point upwards.

Now 't is set,

And I can fall upon it. Yet one glance
On the fair day, which sees no foul thing like
Myself, and the sweet sun, which warm'd me, but
In vain. The birds--how joyously they sing!
So let them, for I would not be lamented:
But let their merriest notes be Arnold's knell;
The falling leaves my monument; the murmur
Of the near fountain my sole elegy.
Now, knife, stand firmly, as I fain would fall!
[As he rushes to throw himself upon the knife,
his eye is suddenly caught by the fountain,

which seems in motion.

The fountain moves without a wind: but shall
The ripple of a spring change my resolve?
No. Yet it moves again! The waters stir,
Not as with air, but by some subterrane
And rocking power of the internal world.
What's here? A mist! No more?-

[A cloud comes from the fountain. He stands
gazing upon it: it is dispelled, and a tall
black man comes towards him.

ARNOLD.

STRANGER.

STRANGER.

As man is both, why not

Spirit or man?

Thou canst not yet speak mine), the forester
Hunts not the wretched coney, but the boar,
Or wolf, or lion, leaving paltry game

To petty burghers, who leave once a-year
Their walls, to fill their household caldrons with
Such scullion prey. The meanest gibe at thee,—
Now I can mock the mightiest.

ARNOLD.

Then waste not

Thy time on me: I seek thee not.

STRANGER.

Your thoughts

Are not far from me. Do not send me back:
I am not so easily recall'd to do
Good service.

ARNOLD.

What wilt thou do for me? STRANGER.

Change

Shapes with you, if you will, since yours so irks you; Or form you to your wish in any shape.

ARNOLD.

Oh! then you are indeed the demon, for Nought else would wittingly wear mine.

Invest thee with his form?

ARNOLD.

Would that I had Been born with it! But since I may choose further, I will look further.

Emanation of a thing more glorious still. Was he e'er human only?

STRANGER.

ARNOLD.

Yet one shadow more.
STRANGER (addressing the Shadow).

Get thee to Lamia's lap!

[The Shade of Demetrius Poliorcetes vanishes: another rises.

STRANGER.

I'll fit you still,

Fear not, my hunchback. If the shadow of
That which existed please not your nice taste,
I'll animate the ideal marble, till
Your soul be reconciled to her new garment.

Content! I will fix here.

ARNOLD.

STRANGER.

I must commend Your choice. The god-like son of the sea-goddess, The unshorn boy of Peleus, with his locks As beautiful and clear as the amber waves Of rich Pactolus rolled o'er sands of gold, Softened by intervening crystal, and Rippled like flowing waters by the wind,

All vow'd to Sperchius as they were-behold them! And him as he stood by Polyxena,

With sanction'd and with soften'd love, before

The altar, gazing on his Trojan bride,

With some remorse within for Hector slain
And Priam weeping, mingled with deep passion
For the sweet downcast virgin, whose young hand
Trembled in his who slew her brother. So
He stood i' the temple! Look upon him as
Greece look'd her last upon her best, the instant
Ere Paris' arrow flew.

ARNOLD.

Who is this?

Who truly looketh like a demigod,

Blooming and bright, with golden hair, and stature,
If not more high than mortal, yet immortal
In all that nameless bearing of his limbs,
Which he wears as the sun his rays-a something
Which shines from him, and yet is but the flashing

As a youthful beauty Before her glass. You both see what is not, But dream it is what must be.

ARNOLD.

Must I wait'

STRANGER.

No; that were pity. But a word or two.