No More Learning

Heaven give thee rest!
And Penitence restore thee to thyself;
My prayers shall be for thee.

_Man_. I need them not,
But can endure thy pity. I depart-- 90
'Tis time--farewell! --Here's gold, and thanks for thee--
No words--it is thy due. --Follow me not--
I know my path--the mountain peril's past:
And once again I charge thee, follow not!
[_Exit_ MANFRED.


SCENE II. --_A lower Valley in the Alps. --A Cataract_.

_Enter_ MANFRED.

It is not noon--the Sunbow's rays[129] still arch
The torrent with the many hues of heaven,
And roll the sheeted silver's waving column
O'er the crag's headlong perpendicular,
And fling its lines of foaming light along,
And to and fro, like the pale courser's tail,
The Giant steed, to be bestrode by Death,
As told in the Apocalypse. [130] No eyes
But mine now drink this sight of loveliness;
I should be sole in this sweet solitude, 10
And with the Spirit of the place divide
The homage of these waters. --I will call her.
[MANFRED _takes some of the water into the palm of his
hand and flings it into the air, muttering the ajuration.
After a pause, the_ WITCH OF THE ALPS _rises beneath
the arch of the sunbow of the torrent. _

Beautiful Spirit! with thy hair of light,
And dazzling eyes of glory, in whose form
The charms of Earth's least mortal daughters grow
To an unearthly stature, in an essence
Of purer elements; while the hues of youth,--
Carnationed like a sleeping Infant's cheek,
Rocked by the beating of her mother's heart,
Or the rose tints, which Summer's twilight leaves 20
Upon the lofty Glacier's virgin snow,
The blush of earth embracing with her Heaven,--
Tinge thy celestial aspect, and make tame
The beauties of the Sunbow which bends o'er thee.
Beautiful Spirit! in thy calm clear brow,
Wherein is glassed serenity of Soul,[ay]
Which of itself shows immortality,
I read that thou wilt pardon to a Son
Of Earth, whom the abstruser powers permit
At times to commune with them--if that he 30
Avail him of his spells--to call thee thus,
And gaze on thee a moment.

_Witch_. Son of Earth!
I know thee, and the Powers which give thee power!
I know thee for a man of many thoughts,
And deeds of good and ill, extreme in both,
Fatal and fated in thy sufferings.
I have expected this--what would'st thou with me?

_Man_. To look upon thy beauty--nothing further.
The face of the earth hath maddened me, and I
Take refuge in her mysteries, and pierce 40
To the abodes of those who govern her--
But they can nothing aid me. I have sought
From them what they could not bestow, and now
I search no further.

_Witch_.