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Manf. I hear thee. This is my reply:, 'Tis strange even those who do despair whate'er

above, I may have been, or am, doth rest between Yet shape themselves some phantasy on earth, Heaven and myself.—I shall not choose a To which frail twig they cling, like drownmortal

ing men. To be my mediator. Have I sinn'd

Manf. Ay — father! I have had those Against your ordinances ? prove and punish! earthly visions Abbot. My son! I did not speak of And noble aspirations in my youth, punishment,

To make my own the mind of other men, But penitence and pardon ;-with thyself The enlightener of nations; and to rise The choice of such remains-and for the last, I knew not whither-it might be to fall; Our institutions and our strong belief But fall, even as the mountain-cataract, Have given me power to smooth the path which having leapt from its more dazzling from sin

height, To higher hope and better thoughts; the first Even in the foaming strength of its abyss, I leave to Heaven - “Vengeance is mine (Which casts up misty columns that become alone!”

Člouds raining from there-ascended skies,) So saith the Lord, and with all humbleness | Lies low but mighty still. - But this is past, His servant echoes back the awful word. My thoughts mistook themselves. Manf. Old man! there is no power in Abbot. And wherefore so ? holy men,

Manf. I could not tame my nature down; Nor charm in prayer--nor purifying form

for he of penitence-nor outward look - nor fast- Must serve who fain would sway – and Nor agony-nor, greater than all these,

soothe-and sueThe innate tortures of that deep despair, And watch all time—and pry into all place-Which is remorse without the fear of hell, And be a living lie-- who would become But all in all sufficient to itself

A mighty thing amongst the mean, and such Would make a hell of heaven - can exorcise The mass are; I disdain'd to mingle with From outthe unbounded spirit the quick sense A herd, though to be leader and of wolves. Of its own sins, wrongs, sufferance, and The lion is alone, and so am I. revenge

Abbot. And why not live and act with Upon itself; there is no future pang

other men ? Can deal that justice on the self-condemn'd Manf. Because my nature was averse He deals on his own soul.

from life; Abbot. All this is well;

And yet not cruel; for I would not make, For this will pass away, and be succeeded But find a desolation :-like the wind, By an auspicious hope, which shall look up The red-hot breath of the most lone Simoom, With calm assurance to that blessed place, which dwells but in the desert, and sweeps Which all who seek may win, whatever be

o'er Their earthly errors, so they be atoned : The barren sands which bear no shrubs to And the commencement of atonement is

blast, The sense of its necessity.–Say on

And revels o'er their wild and arid waves, And all our church can teach thee shall be And seeketh not, so that it is not sought, taught;

But being met is deadly; such hath been And all we can absolve thee, shall be par- The course of my existence; but there came don'd.

Things in my path which are no more. Manf. When Rome's sixth Emperor was Abbot. Alas! near his last,

l’gin to fear that thou art past all aid The victim of a self-inflicted wound, From me and from my calling; yet so young, To shun the torments of a public death I still wouldFrom scrates, once his slaves, a certain Manf. Look on me! there is an order soldier,

of mortals on the earth, who do become With show of loyal pity, would have old in their youth and die ere middle age, staunch'd

Without the violence of warlike death; The gushing throat with his officious robe; Some perishing of pleasure - some of studyThe dying Roman thrust him back and said- Some worn with toil - some of mere weariSome empire still in his expiring glance, "It is too late - is this fidelity ?”

Some of disease -- and some insanityAbbot. And what of this ?

And some of wither'd, or of broken hearts; Manf. I answer with the Roman- For this last is a malady which slays "It is too late !"

More than are number'd in the lists of Fate, Abbot. It never can be so,

Taking all shapes, and bearing many names. To reconcile thyself with thy own soul, Look upon me! for even of all these things And thy own soul with Heaven. Hast thou Have I partaken; and of all these things, no hope ?

One were enough; then wonder not that I


Am what I am, but that I ever was, To whom the gifts of life and warmth have Or having been, that I am still on earth.

been Abbot. Yet, hear me still

Of a more fatal nature. He is gone: Manf. Old man! I do respect

I follow.

[Erit Manfred. Thine order, and revere thine years; I deem Thy purpose pious, but it is in vain : SCENE III. - The Mountains The Castle Think me not churlish; I would spare of Manfred at some distance-A Terrace thyself,

before a Tower.-Time, Twilight. Far more than me, in shunning at this time All further colloquy-and so-farewell.

HERMAN, MANUEL, and other Dependants [E.rit Manfred.

of MANFRED. Abbot. This should have been a noble Ilerm. Tis strange enough; night after creature: he

night, for years, Hath all the energy which would have made He hath pursued long vigils in this tower, A goodly frame of glorious elements, Without a witness. I have been within it, Had they been wisely mingled; as it is, So have we all been oft-times; but from it, It is an awful chaos— light and darkness – Or its contents, it were impossible And mind and dust—and passions and pure To draw conclusions absolute, of aught thoughts,

His studies tend to. To be sure, there is Mix'd and contending without end or order, One chamber where none enter; I would All dormant or destructive: he will perish, give And yet he must not; I will try once more, The fee of what I have to come these three For such are worth redemption; and my duty

years, Is to dare all things for a righteous end. To pore upon its mysteries. I'll follow him – but cautiously, though Manuel." "Twere dangerous; surely.

[Exit Abbot. Content thyself with what thou knowest

already. SCENE II.- Another chamber.

Herm. Ah! Manuel! thou art elderly and


And couldst say much; thou hast dwelt Herman. My Lord, you bade me wait

within the castleon you at sunset;

How many years is't ? He sinks behind the mountain.

Manuel. Ere Count Manfred's birth, Manf. Doth he so?

I served his father, whom he nought I will look on him.

resembles. [Manfred advances to the Window Herm. There be more sons in like prediof the Hall.

cament. Glorious Orb! the idol

But wherein do they differ? Of early nature, and the vigorous race Manuel. I speak not Of undiseased mankind, the giant-sons Of features or of form, but mind and habits : of the embrace of angels, with a sex Count Sigismund was proud, -but gay and More beautiful than they, which did draw

free, down

A warrior and a reveller; he dwelt not The erring spirits who can ne'er return- With books and solitude, nor made the night Most glorious Orb! that wert a worship, ere A gloomy vigil, but a festal time, The mystery of thy making was reveal'd! Merrier than day; he did not walk the rocks Thou earliest minister of the Almighty, And forests like a wolf, nor turn aside Which gladdend, on their mountain-tops, From men and their delights. the hearts

Herm. Beshrew the hour, of the Chaldean shepherds, till they pour'd But those were jocund times! I would that Themselves in orisons! Thou material God!

such And representative of the Unknown- Would visit the old walls again; they look Who chose thee for his shadow! Thou As if they had forgotten them. chief star!

Manuel. These walls Centre of many stars! which mak'st our earth Must change their chieftain first. Oh! I Endurable, and temperest the hues

have seen And hearts of all who walk within thy rays! Some strange things in them, Herman. Sire of the seasons! Monarch of the climes, Herm. Come, be friendly; And those who dwell in them! for near or far, Relate me some to while away our watch: Our inborn spirits have a tint of thee, I've heard thee darkly speak of an event Even as our outward aspects;-thou dost rise, which happened hercabouts, by this same And shine, and set in glory. Fare thee well!

tower, I ne'er shall see thee more. As my first glance Manuel. That was a night indeed; I do Of love and wonder was for thee, then take

reinember My latest look: thou wilt not beam on one l 'Twas twilight as it may be now, and such

Another evenings-yon red cloud, which rests | Appear'd to skirt the horizon, yet they stood
On Eigher’s pinnacle, so rested then,- Within a bowshot-where the Cæsars dwelt,
So like that it might be the same; the wind And dwell the tuneless birds of night amidst
Was faint and gusty,and the mountain-snows A grove which springs through levellid
Began to glitter with the climbing moon; battlements,
Count Manfred was, as now, within his And twines its roots with the imperial

hearths, How occupied, we knew not, but with him Ivy usurps the laurel's place of growth ;The sole companion of his wanderings But the gladiator's bloody Circus stands, And watchings-her, whom of all earthly A noble wreck in ruinous perfection! things

While Cæsar's chambers, and the Augustan That lived, the only thing he seem'd to love,

halls, As he, indeed, by blood was bound to do, Grovel on earth in indistinct decay.The lady Astarte, his-Hush! who comes And thou didst shine,thou rolling Moon, upon here?

All this, and cast a wide and tender light,

Which soften'd down the hoar austerity Enter the ABBOT.

Of rugged desolation, and fill'd up, Abbot. Where is your master?

As 'twere anew, the gaps of centuries; Herm. Yonder, in the tower.

Leaving that beautiful which still was so, Abbot. I must speak with him.

And making that which was not, till the place Manuel. 'Tis impossible,

Became religion, and the heart ran o'er He is most private, and must not be thns With silent worship of the great of old! Intruded on.

The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who Abbot. Upon myself I take

still rule The forfeit of my fault, if fault there be-Our spirits from their urns. — 'Twas such But I must see him.

a night! Herm. Thou hast seen him once 'Tis strange that I recal it at this time; This eve already.

But I have found our thoughts take wildest Abbot. Herman! I command thee,

flight Knock,and apprize the Count of my approach. Even at the moment when they should array Herm. We dare not.

Themselves in pensive order.
Abbot. Then it seems ( must be herald

Enter the ABBOT.
Of my own purpose.
Manuel. Reverend father, stop-

Abbot. My good Lord!
I pray you pause.

I crave a second grace for this approach; Abbot. Why so ?

But yet let not my humble zeal offend Manuel. But step this way,

By its abruptness—all it hath of ill And I will tell you further. [Ereunt. Recoils on me; its good in the effect

May light upon your head-could I say heart_ SCENE IV.- Interior of the Tower. Could I touch that, with words or prayers,

I should
MANFRED alone.

Recal a noble spirit which hath wander'd; Manf. The stars are forth, the moon But is not yet all lost. above the tops

Manf. Thou know'st me not; Of the snow-shining mountains.- Beautiful! My days are number'd, and my deeds I linger yet with Nature, for the night

recorded :
Hath been to me a more familiar face Retire, or 'twill be dangerous—Away!
Than that of man; and in her starry shade Abbot. Thou dost not mean to menace me?
Of dim and solitary loveliness,

Manf. Not I;
I learn'd the language of another world. I simply tell thee peril is at hand,
I do remember me, that in my youth, And would preserve thee.
When I was wandering,-upon such a night

Abbot. What dost mean?
I stood within the Coloseum's wall,

Manf. Look there! Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome; What dost thou see? The trees which grew along the broken Abbot. Nothing. arches

Manf. Look there, I say, Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the And steadfastly;-1

- now tell me what thou stars

seest? Shone through the rents of ruin; from afar Abbot. That which should shake me,The watchdog bayed beyond the Tiber; and

but I fear it notMore near from out the Cæsars' palace came I see a dusk and awful figure rise The owl's long cry, and, interruptedly, Like an infernal god from out the earth; Of distant sentinels the fitful song His face wrapt in a mantle, and his form Begun and died upon the gentle wind. Robed as with angry clouds; he stands Somecypresses beyond the time-worn breach | between

Thyself and me, but I do fear him not. Almost our equal ? - Can It be that thon Manf. Thou hast no cause—he shall not Art thus in love with life? the very life harm thee - but

Which made thee wretched ! His sight may shock thine old limbs into Manf. Thou false fiend, thou liest! palsy.

My life is in its last hour,- that I know, I say to thee - Retire!

Nor would redeem a moment of that hour; Abbot. And I reply

I do not combat against death, but thee Never-till I have battled with this fiend — And thy surrounding angels; my past power What doth he here?

Was purchased by no compact with thy crew, Manf. Why-ay-what doth he here? But by superior science-penance-daringI did not send for him,- he is unbidden. And length of watching-strength of mind Abbot. Alas! lost mortal! what with

—and skill guests like these

In knowledge of our fathers—when the earth Hast thou to do? I tremble for thy sake. Saw men and spirits walking side by side, Why doth he gaze on thee, and thou on him? And gave ye no supremacy: 1 stand Ah! he unveils his aspect; on his brow Upon my strength-1 do defy- denyThe thunder-scars are graven; from his eye Spurn back, and scorn ye! Glares forth the immortality of hell – Spirit. But thy many crimes Avaunt!

Have made theeManf. Pronounce-what is thy mission ? Manf. What are they to such as thee? Spirit. Come!

Must crimes be punish'd but by other crimes, Abbot. What art thou, unknown being? And greater criminals ? - Back to thy hell! answer!-- speak!

Thou hast no power upon me, that I feel; Spirit. The genius of this mortal. -Come! Thou never shalt possess me, that I knowi 'tis time.

What I have done is done; I bear within Manf. I am prepared for all things, but A torture which could nothing gain from deny

thine: The power which summons me. Who sent The mind which is immortal makes itself thee here?

Requital for its good or evil thoughts Spirit. Thou'lt know anon-Come! come! Is its own origin of ill and endManf. I have cominanded

And its own place and time- its innate sense, Things of an essence greater far than thine, When stripp'd of this mortality, derives And striven with thy masters. Get thee No colour from the fleeting things without; hence!

But is absorb'd in sufferance or in joy, Spirit. Mortal! thine hour is come - Born from the knowledge of its own desert

. Away! I say.

Thou didst not tempt me, and thou couldst Manf. I knew, and know my hour is not tempt me; come, but not

I have not been thy dupe, nor am thy preyTo render up my soul to such as thee: But was my own destroyer, and will be Away! I'll die as I have lived-alone. My own hereafter. - Back, ye baffled fiends! Spirit. Then I must summon up my The hand of death is on me, but not yours! brethren.-Rise

[The Demons disappear. [Other Spirits rise up. Abbot. Alas! how pale thou art – thy Abbot. Avaunt! ye evil ones ! - Avaunt! lips are white


And thy breast heaves—and in thy gasping Ye have no power where piety hath power,

throat And I do charge ye in the name

The accents rattle. – Give thy prayers to Spirit. Old man!

Heaven We know ourselves, our mission, and thine Pray, albeit but in thought, – but die not order;

thus. Waste not thy holy words on idle uses, Manf. Tis over- - my

dull It were in vain; this man is forfeited.

thee not; Once more I summon him-Away! away! But all things swim around me, and the earth

Manf. I do defy ye, - though I feel my soul Heaves as it were beneath me.Fare thee well Is ebbing from me, yet I do defy ye; Give me thy hand. Nor will I hence, while I have earthly breath Abbot. Cold-cold-even to the heartTo breathe my scorn upon ye — earthly But yet one prayer alas ! how fares it strength

with thee? Towrestle,though with spirits; what ye take Manf. Old man ! 'tis not so difficult to die. Shall be ta'en limb by limb.

(Manfred expires. Spirit. Reluctant mortal!

Abbot. He's gone- his soul bath ta'en Is this the Magian who would so pervade its earthless flightThe world invisible, and make himself Whither? I dread to think-but he is gone.

eyes can fix


*Dux inquieti turbidus Adriæ.”


lished by the indefatigable Abbate Morelli,

in his “Monumenti Veneziani di varia letThe conspiracy ofthe Doge Marino Faliero teratura,” printed in 1796, all of which I is one of the most remarkable events in the have looked over in the original language. annals of the most singular government, The moderns, Daru, Sismondi, and Laugier, city, and people of modern history.. It nearly agree with the ancient chroniclers. occurred in the year 1355. Every thing Sismondi attributes the conspiracy to his about Venice is, or was, extraordinary jealousy; but I find this nowhere asserted her aspect is like a dream, and her history by the national historians. Vettor Sandi, is like a romance. The story of this Doge indeed, says, that “Altri scrissero che.... is to be found in all her Chronicles, and dalla gelosa suspizion di esso Doge siasi particularly detailed in the lives of the fatto Michel Steno ) staccar con vioDoges,” by Marin Sanuto, which is given lenza," etc. etc. ; but this appears to have in the Appendix. It is simply and clearly been by no means the general opinion, nor related, and is, perhaps, more dramatic in is it alluded to by Sanuto or by Navagero; itself than any scenes which can be founded and Sandi himself adds a moment after, upon the subject.

that “per altre Veneziane memorie traspiri, Marino Faliero appears to have been a che non il solo desiderio di vendetta lo disman of talents and of courage. I find him pose alla congiura, ma anche la innata commander in chief of the land-forces at abituale ambizion sua, per cui anelava a the siege of Zara, vhere he beat the King farsi principe indipendente.” The first of Hungary and his army of 80,000 men, motive appears to have been excited by the killing 8000 men and keeping the besieged gross affront of the words written by Michel at the same time in check, an exploit Steno on the ducal chair, and by the light to which I know none similar in his- and inadequate sentence of the Forty on tory, except that of Cæsar at Alesia, and the offender, who was one of their "tre of Prince Eugene at Belgrade. He was Capi." The attentions of Steno himself afterwards commander of the fleet in the appear to have been directed towards one

He took Capo d'Istria. He of her damsels, and not to the “Dogaressa" was ambassador at Genoa and Rome, at herself, against whose fame not the slightest which last he received the news of his insinuation appears, while she is praised election to the Dukedom; his absence being for her beauty, and remarked for her youth. a proof that he sought it by no intrigue, Neither do I find it asserted (unless the since he was apprized of his predecessor's hint of Sandi be an assertion) that the Doge death and his own succession at the same was actuated by jealousy of his wife; but moment. But he appears to have been of rather by respect for her, and for his own an ungovernable temper. A story is told honour, warranted by his past services and by Sanuto, of his having, many years before, present dignity. when podesta and captain at Treviso, boxed I know not that the historical facts are the ears of the bishop, who was somewhat alluded to in English, unless by Dr. Moore tardy in bringing the Host. For this honest in his View of Italy. His account is false Sanuto "saddles him with a judgment,” as and flippant, full of stale jests about old Thwackum did Square ; but he does not men and young wives, and wondering at tell us whether he was punished or rebuked so great an effect from so slight a cause. by the Senate for this outrage at the time How so acute and severe an observer of of its commission. H scems, indeed, to kind as the author of Zeluco could bave been afterwards at peace with the wonder at this is inconceivable. He knew church,for we find him ambassador at Rome, that a basin of water spilt on Mrs. Masham's and invested with the fief of Val di Marino, gown deprived the Duke of Marlborough in the March of Treviso, and with the title of his command, and led to the inglorious of Count, by Lorenzo, Count - Bishop of peace of Utrecht – that Louis XIV. was Ceneda. For facts my authorities are, Sa- plunged into the most desolating wars benuto, Vettor Sandi, Andrea Navagero, and cause his minister was nettled at his finding the account of the siege of Zara, first pub- fault with a window, and wished to give

same war.

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