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.
Take refuge in her mysteries, and pierce 40
To the abodes of those who govern her--
But they can nothing aid me.
Byron
[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_. What could be the quest
Which is not in the power of the most powerful,
The rulers of the invisible?
_Man_. A boon;--
But why should I repeat it? 'twere in vain.
_Witch_. I know not that; let thy lips utter it.
_Man_. Well, though it torture me, 'tis but the same;
My pang shall find a voice. From my youth upwards 50
My Spirit walked not with the souls of men,
Nor looked upon the earth with human eyes;
The thirst of their ambition was not mine,
The aim of their existence was not mine;
My joys--my griefs--my passions--and my powers,
Made me a stranger; though I wore the form,
I had no sympathy with breathing flesh,
Nor midst the Creatures of Clay that girded me
Was there but One who--but of her anon.
I said with men, and with the thoughts of men, 60
I held but slight communion; but instead,
My joy was in the wilderness,--to breathe
The difficult air of the iced mountain's top,[131]
Where the birds dare not build--nor insect's wing
Flit o'er the herbless granite; or to plunge
Into the torrent, and to roll along
On the swift whirl of the new-breaking wave
Of river-stream, or Ocean, in their flow. [132]
In these my early strength exulted; or
To follow through the night the moving moon,[133] 70
The stars and their development; or catch
The dazzling lightnings till my eyes grew dim;
Or to look, list'ning, on the scattered leaves,
While Autumn winds were at their evening song.
These were my pastimes, and to be alone;
For if the beings, of whom I was one,--
Hating to be so,--crossed me in my path,
I felt myself degraded back to them,
And was all clay again. And then I dived,
In my lone wanderings, to the caves of Death, 80
Searching its cause in its effect; and drew
From withered bones, and skulls, and heaped up dust
Conclusions most forbidden.
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_. What could be the quest
Which is not in the power of the most powerful,
The rulers of the invisible?
_Man_. A boon;--
But why should I repeat it? 'twere in vain.
_Witch_. I know not that; let thy lips utter it.
_Man_. Well, though it torture me, 'tis but the same;
My pang shall find a voice. From my youth upwards 50
My Spirit walked not with the souls of men,
Nor looked upon the earth with human eyes;
The thirst of their ambition was not mine,
The aim of their existence was not mine;
My joys--my griefs--my passions--and my powers,
Made me a stranger; though I wore the form,
I had no sympathy with breathing flesh,
Nor midst the Creatures of Clay that girded me
Was there but One who--but of her anon.
I said with men, and with the thoughts of men, 60
I held but slight communion; but instead,
My joy was in the wilderness,--to breathe
The difficult air of the iced mountain's top,[131]
Where the birds dare not build--nor insect's wing
Flit o'er the herbless granite; or to plunge
Into the torrent, and to roll along
On the swift whirl of the new-breaking wave
Of river-stream, or Ocean, in their flow. [132]
In these my early strength exulted; or
To follow through the night the moving moon,[133] 70
The stars and their development; or catch
The dazzling lightnings till my eyes grew dim;
Or to look, list'ning, on the scattered leaves,
While Autumn winds were at their evening song.
These were my pastimes, and to be alone;
For if the beings, of whom I was one,--
Hating to be so,--crossed me in my path,
I felt myself degraded back to them,
And was all clay again. And then I dived,
In my lone wanderings, to the caves of Death, 80
Searching its cause in its effect; and drew
From withered bones, and skulls, and heaped up dust
Conclusions most forbidden.
