No More Learning

Hun_. What is it
That thou dost see, or think thou look'st upon?

_Man_. Myself, and thee--a peasant of the Alps--
Thy humble virtues, hospitable home,
And spirit patient, pious, proud, and free;
Thy self-respect, grafted on innocent thoughts;
Thy days of health, and nights of sleep; thy toils,
By danger dignified, yet guiltless; hopes
Of cheerful old age and a quiet grave,
With cross and garland over its green turf, 70
And thy grandchildren's love for epitaph!
This do I see--and then I look within--
It matters not--my Soul was scorched already!

_C. Hun_. And would'st thou then exchange thy lot for mine?

_Man_. No, friend! I would not wrong thee, nor exchange
My lot with living being: I can bear--
However wretchedly, 'tis still to bear--
In life what others could not brook to dream,
But perish in their slumber.

_C. Hun_. And with this--
This cautious feeling for another's pain, 80
Canst thou be black with evil? --say not so.
Can one of gentle thoughts have wreaked revenge
Upon his enemies?

_Man_. Oh! no, no, no!
My injuries came down on those who loved me--
On those whom I best loved: I never quelled
An enemy, save in my just defence--
But my embrace was fatal.

_C. Hun_. 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.