The lamp must be replenished , but even then It will not burn so long as I must watch : My slumbers — if I slumber — are not sleep , But a continuance , of enduring thought , Which then I can resist not : in my heart There is a vigil , and these eyes but close To look within ; and yet I live , and bear The aspect and the form of breathing men . But Grief should be the Instructor of the wise ; Sorrow is Knowledge : they who know the most 10 Must mourn the deepest o'er the fatal truth , The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life . Philosophy and science , and the springsOf Wonder , and the wisdom of the World , I have essayed , and in my mind there is A power to make these subject to itself — But they avail not : I have done men good , And I have met with good even among men — But this availed not : I have had my foes , And none have baffled , many fallen before me — 20 But this availed not :— Good — or evil — life — Powers , passions — all I see in other beings , Have been to me as rain unto the sands , Since that all-nameless hour . I have no dread , And feel the curse to have no natural fear , Nor fluttering throb , that beats with hopes or wishes , Or lurking love of something on the earth . Now to my task .— Mysterious Agency ! Ye Spirits of the unbounded Universe !Whom I have sought in darkness and in light — 30 Ye , who do compass earth about , and dwell In subtler essence — ye , to whom the tops Of mountains inaccessible are haunts ,And Earth 's and Ocean 's caves familiar things — I call upon ye by the written charmWhich gives me power upon you — Rise ! Appear !— by this sign , Which makes you tremble — by the claims of him Who is undying ,— Rise ! Appear !—— Appear ! 40The thought which is within me and around me , I do compel ye to my will .— Appear !First Spirit . Mortal ! to thy bidding bowed , 50 From my mansion in the cloud , Which the breath of Twilight builds , And the Summer 's sunset gilds With the azure and vermilion , Which is mixed for my pavilion ;Though thy quest may be forbidden , On a star-beam I have ridden , To thine adjuration bowed : Mortal — be thy wish avowed ! Voice of the Second Spirit . Mont Blanc is the Monarch of mountains ; 60 They crowned him long ago On a throne of rocks , in a robe of clouds , With a Diadem of snow . Around his waist are forests braced , The Avalanche in his hand ; But ere it fall , that thundering ball Must pause for my command . The Glacier 's cold and restless mass Moves onward day by day ; But I am he who bids it pass , 70 Or with its ice delay .I am the Spirit of the place , Could make the mountain bow And quiver to his caverned base — And what with me would'st Thou ? Voice of the Third Spirit . In the blue depth of the waters , Where the wave hath no strife , Where the Wind is a stranger , And the Sea-snake hath life , Where the Mermaid is decking 80 Her green hair with shells , Like the storm on the surface Came the sound of thy spells ; O'er my calm Hall of Coral The deep Echo rolled — To the Spirit of Ocean Thy wishes unfold ! FOURTH SPIRIT . Where the slumbering Earthquake Lies pillowed on fire , And the lakes of bitumen 90 Rise boilingly higher ; Where the roots of the Andes Strike deep in the earth , As their summits to heaven Shoot soaringly forth ; I have quitted my birthplace , Thy bidding to bide — Thy spell hath subdued me , Thy will be my guide ! FIFTH SPIRIT . I am the Rider of the wind , 100 The Stirrer of the storm ; The hurricane I left behind Is yet with lightning warm ; To speed to thee , o'er shore and sea I swept upon the blast : The fleet I met sailed well — and yet ‘ Twill sink ere night be past . SIXTH SPIRIT . My dwelling is the shadow of the Night , Why doth thy magic torture me with light ? SEVENTH SPIRIT . The Star which rules thy destiny no 110 Was ruled , ere earth began , by me : It was a World as fresh and fair As e'er revolved round Sun in air ; Its course was free and regular , Space bosomed not a lovelier star . The Hour arrived — and it became A wandering mass of shapeless flame , A pathless Comet , and a curse , The menace of the Universe ; Still rolling on with innate force , 120 Without a sphere , without a course , A bright deformity on high , The monster of the upper sky ! And Thou ! beneath its influence born — Thou worm ! whom I obey and scorn — Forced by a PowerFor this brief moment to descend , Where these weak Spirits round thee bend And parley with a thing like thee — 130 What would'st thou , Child of Clay ! with me ?The SEVEN SPIRITS . Earth — ocean — air — night — mountains — winds — thy Star , Are at thy beck and bidding , Child of Clay ! Before thee at thy quest their Spirits are — What would'st thou with us , Son of mortals — say ? Forgetfulness —— Of that which is within me ; read it there — Ye know it — and I cannot utter it . Oblivion — self-oblivion ! Can ye not wring from out the hidden realms Ye offer so profusely — what I ask ? Will Death bestow it on me ? Ye mock me — but the Power which brought ye here Hath made you mine . Slaves , scoff not at my will ! The Mind — the Spirit — the Promethean spark , The lightning of my being , is as bright , Pervading , and far darting as your own , And shall not yield to yours , though cooped in clay ! Answer , or I will teach you what I am . Why say ye so ? 160 I then have called ye from your realms in vain ; Ye cannot , or ye will not , aid me . Accurséd ! what have I to do with days ? They are too long already .— Hence — begone ! 170 No , none : yet stay — one moment , ere we part , I would behold ye face to face . I hear Your voices , sweet and melancholy sounds , As Music on the waters ; and I see The steady aspect of a clear large Star ; But nothing more . Approach me as ye are , Or one — or all — in your accustomed forms . 180 I have no choice ; there is no form on earth Hideous or beautiful to me . Let him , Who is most powerful of ye , take such aspect As unto him may seem most fitting — Come ! Seventh SpiritBehold ! Oh God ! if it be thus , and thou Art not a madness and a mockery , I yet might be most happy . I will clasp thee , 190 And we again will be —— When the Moon is on the wave , And the glow-worm in the grass , And the meteor on the grave , And the wisp on the morass ; When the falling stars are shooting , And the answered owls are hooting , And the silent leaves are still In the shadow of the hill , Shall my soul be upon thine , 200 With a power and with a sign . Though thy slumber may be deep , Yet thy Spirit shall not sleep ; There are shades which will not vanish , There are thoughts thou canst not banish ; By a Power to thee unknown , Thou canst never be alone ; Thou art wrapt as with a shroud , Thou art gathered in a cloud ; And for ever shalt thou dwell 210 In the spirit of this spell . Though thou seest me not pass by , Thou shalt feel me with thine eye As a thing that , though unseen , Must be near thee , and hath been ; And when in that secret dread Thou hast turned around thy head , Thou shalt marvel I am not As thy shadow on the spot , And the power which thou dost feel 220 Shall be what thou must conceal . And a magic voice and verse Hath baptized thee with a curse ; And a Spirit of the air Hath begirt thee with a snare ; In the wind there is a voice Shall forbid thee to rejoice ; And to thee shall Night deny All the quiet of her sky ; And the day shall have a sun , 230 Which shall make thee wish it done . From thy false tears I did distil An essence which hath strength to kill ; From thy own heart I then did wring The black blood in its blackest spring ; From thy own smile I snatched the snake , For there it coiled as in a brake ; From thy own lip I drew the charm Which gave all these their chiefest harm ; In proving every poison known , 240 I found the strongest was thine own . By the cold breast and serpent smile , By thy unfathomed gulfs of guile , By that most seeming virtuous eye , By thy shut soul 's hypocrisy ; By the perfection of thine art Which passed for human thine own heart ; By thy delight in others ’ pain , And by thy brotherhood of Cain , I call upon thee ! and compel 250 Thyself to be thy proper Hell ! And on thy head I pour the vial Which doth devote thee to this trial ; Nor to slumber , nor to die , Shall be in thy destiny ; Though thy death shall still seem near To thy wish , but as a fear ; Lo ! the spell now works around thee , And the clankless chain hath bound thee ; O'er thy heart and brain together 260 Hath the word been passed — now wither ! The spirits I have raised abandon me , The spells which I have studied baffle me , The remedy I recked of tortured me I lean no more on superhuman aid ; It hath no power upon the past , and for The future , till the past be gulfed in darkness , It is not of my search .— My Mother Earth ! And thou fresh-breaking Day , and you , ye Mountains , Why are ye beautiful ? I cannot love ye . And thou , the bright Eye of the Universe , 10 That openest over all , and unto all Art a delight — thou shin'st not on my heart . And you , ye crags , upon whose extreme edge I stand , and on the torrent 's brink beneath Behold the tall pines dwindled as to shrubs In dizziness of distance ; when a leap , A stir , a motion , even a breath , would bring My breast upon its rocky bosom 's bed To rest for ever — wherefore do I pause ? I feel the impulse — yet I do not plunge ; 20 I see the peril — yet do not recede ; And my brain reels — and yet my foot is firm : There is a power upon me which withholds , And makes it my fatality to live ,— If it be life to wear within myself This barrenness of Spirit , and to be My own Soul 's sepulchre , for I have ceased To justify my deeds unto myself — The last infirmity of evil . Aye , Thou winged and cloud-cleaving minister , 30 How glorious in its action and itself ! But we , who name ourselves its sovereigns , we , Half dust , half deity , alike unfit 40 To sink or soar , with our mixed essence make A conflict of its elements , and breathe The breath of degradation and of pride , Contending with low wants and lofty will , Till our Mortality predominates , And men are — what they name not to themselves , And trust not to each other . Hark ! the note , My soul would drink those echoes . Oh , that I were The viewless spirit of a lovely sound , A living voice , a breathing harmony , A bodiless enjoyment — born and dying With the blest tone which made me ! To be thus — Grey-haired with anguish , like these blasted pines , Wrecks of a single winter , barkless , branchless ,A blighted trunk upon a curséd root , Which but supplies a feeling to Decay — And to be thus , eternally but thus , 70 Having been otherwise ! Now furrowed o'er With wrinkles , ploughed by moments , not by years And hours , all tortured into ages — hours Which I outlive !— Ye toppling crags of ice ! Ye Avalanches , whom a breath draws down In mountainous o'erwhelming , come and crush me ! I hear ye momently above , beneath , Crash with a frequent conflict ;but ye pass , And only fall on things that still would live ; On the young flourishing forest , or the hut 80 And hamlet of the harmless villager . The mists boil up around the glaciers ; clouds Rise curling fast beneath me , white and sulphury , Like foam from the roused ocean of deep Hell , Whose every wave breaks on a living shore , Heaped with the damned like pebbles .— I am giddy . Mountains have fallen , Leaving a gap in the clouds , and with the shock Rocking their Alpine brethren ; filling up The ripe green valleys with Destruction 's splinters ; Damming the rivers with a sudden dash , Which crushed the waters into mist , and made Their fountains find another channel — thus , Thus , in its old age , did Mount Rosenberg — Why stood I not beneath it ? Such would have been for me a fitting tomb ; My bones had then been quiet in their depth ; They had not then been strewn upon the rocks For the wind 's pastime — as thus — thus they shall be — In this one plunge .— Farewell , ye opening Heavens ! Look not upon me thus reproachfully — You were not meant for me — Earth ! take these atoms ! I am most sick at heart — nay , grasp me not — I am all feebleness — the mountains whirl Spinning around me —— I grow blind —— What art thou ? It imports not : I do know My route full well , and need no further guidance . No matter . Away , away ! there 's blood upon the brim ! Will it then never — never sink in the earth ? I say ‘ tis blood — my blood ! the pure warm stream Which ran in the veins of my fathers , and in ours When we were in our youth , and had one heart , And loved each other as we should not love , And this was shed : but still it rises up , Colouring the clouds , that shut me out from Heaven , Where thou art not — and I shall never be . 30 Patience — and patience ! Hence — that word was made For brutes of burthen , not for birds of prey ! Preach it to mortals of a dust like thine ,— I am not of thine order . Do I not bear it ?— Look on me — I live . I tell thee , man ! I have lived many years , Many long years , but they are nothing now To those which I must number : ages — ages — Space and eternity — and consciousness , With the fierce thirst of death — and still unslaked ! Think'st thou existence doth depend on time ? It doth ; but actions are our epochs : mine Have made my days and nights imperishable , Endless , and all alike , as sands on the shore , Innumerable atoms ; and one desert , Barren and cold , on which the wild waves break , But nothing rests , save carcasses and wrecks , Rocks , and the salt-surf weeds of bitterness . I would I were — for then the things I see 60 Would be but a distempered dream . 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 ! 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 . 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 . 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 ! 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 . A boon ;— But why should I repeat it ? ‘ twere in vain . 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 , 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 . In these my early strength exulted ; or To follow through the night the moving moon , 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 . Then I passed — The nights of years in sciences untaught , Save in the old-time ; and with time and toil , And terrible ordeal , and such penance As in itself hath power upon the air , And spirits that do compass air and earth , Space , and the peopled Infinite , I made Mine eyes familiar with Eternity , 90 Such as , before me , did the Magi , and He who from out their fountain-dwellings raised Eros and Anteros , at Gadara , As I do thee ;— and with my knowledge grew The thirst of knowledge , and the power and joy Of this most bright intelligence , until —— Oh ! I but thus prolonged my words , Boasting these idle attributes , because As I approach the core of my heart 's grief — But — to my task . I have not named to thee 100 Father or mother , mistress , friend , or being , With whom I wore the chain of human ties ; If I had such , they seemed not such to me — Yet there was One —— She was like me in lineaments — her eyes — Her hair — her features — all , to the very tone Even of her voice , they said were like to mine ; But softened all , and tempered into beauty : She had the same lone thoughts and wanderings , The quest of hidden knowledge , and a mind 110 To comprehend the Universe : nor these Alone , but with them gentler powers than mine , Pity , and smiles , and tears — which I had not ; And tenderness — but that I had for her ; Humility — and that I never had . Her faults were mine — her virtues were her own — I loved her , and destroyed her ! Not with my hand , but heart , which broke her heart ; It gazed on mine , and withered . I have shed Blood , but not hers — and yet her blood was shed ; 120 I saw — and could not stanch it . Daughter of Air ! I tell thee , since that hour — But words are breath — look on me in my sleep , Or watch my watchings — Come and sit by me ! My solitude is solitude no more , 130 But peopled with the Furies ;— I have gnashed My teeth in darkness till returning morn , Then cursed myself till sunset ;— I have prayed For madness as a blessing — ‘ tis denied me . I have affronted Death — but in the war Of elements the waters shrunk from me , And fatal things passed harmless ; the cold hand Of an all-pitiless Demon held me back , Back by a single hair , which would not break . In Fantasy , Imagination , all 140 The affluence of my soul — which one day was A Croesus in creation — I plunged deep , But , like an ebbing wave , it dashed me back Into the gulf of my unfathomed thought . I plunged amidst Mankind — Forgetfulness I sought in all , save where ‘ tis to be found — And that I have to learn — my Sciences , My long pursued and superhuman art , Is mortal here : I dwell in my despair — And live — and live for ever . To do this thy power Must wake the dead , or lay me low with them . Do so — in any shape — in any hour — With any torture — so it be the last . I will not swear — Obey ! and whom ? the Spirits Whose presence I command , and be the slave Of those who served me — Never ! I have said it . Retire ! We are the fools of Time and Terror : Days Steal on us , and steal from us ; yet we live , Loathing our life , and dreading still to die . In all the days of this detested yoke — This vital weight upon the struggling heart , Which sinks with sorrow , or beats quick with pain , Or joy that ends in agony or faintness — 170 In all the days of past and future — for In life there is no present — we can number How few — how less than few — wherein the soul Forbears to pant for death , and yet draws back As from a stream in winter , though the chillBe but a moment 's . I have one resource Still in my science — I can call the dead , And ask them what it is we dread to be : The sternest answer can but be the Grave , And that is nothing : if they answer not — 180 The buried Prophet answered to the Hag Of Endor ; and the Spartan Monarch drew From the Byzantine maid 's unsleeping spirit An answer and his destiny — he slew That which he loved , unknowing what he slew , And died unpardoned — though he called in aid The Phyxian Jove , and in Phigalia roused The Arcadian Evocators to compel The indignant shadow to depose her wrath , Or fix her term of vengeance — she replied 190 In words of dubious import , but fulfilled .If I had never lived , that which I love Had still been living ; had I never loved , That which I love would still be beautiful , Happy and giving happiness . What is she ? What is she now ?— a sufferer for my sins — A thing I dare not think upon — or nothing . Within few hours I shall not call in vain — Yet in this hour I dread the thing I dare : Until this hour I never shrunk to gaze 200 On spirit , good or evil — now I tremble , And feel a strange cold thaw upon my heart . But I can act even what I most abhor , And champion human fears .— The night approaches . I know it ; And yet ye see I kneel not . ‘ Tis taught already ;— many a night on the earth , On the bare ground , have I bowed down my face , And strewed my head with ashes ; I have known The fulness of humiliation — for 40 I sunk before my vain despair , and knelt To my own desolation . Bid him bow down to that which is above him , The overruling Infinite — the Maker Who made him not for worship — let him kneel , And we will kneel together . Ye know what I have known ; and without power I could not be amongst ye : but there are Powers deeper still beyond — I come in quest Of such , to answer unto what I seek . Thou canst not reply to me . Call up the dead — my question is for them . One without a tomb — call up Astarte . NEMESIS . Shadow ! or Spirit ! Whatever thou art , Which still doth inherit The whole or a part Of the form of thy birth , Of the mould of thy clay , Which returned to the earth , 90 Re-appear to the day ! Bear what thou borest , The heart and the form , And the aspect thou worest Redeem from the worm . Appear !— Appear !— Appear ! Who sent thee there requires thee here ! Can this be death ? there 's bloom upon her cheek ; But now I see it is no living hue , But a strange hectic — like the unnatural red 100 Which Autumn plants upon the perished leaf . It is the same ! Oh , God ! that I should dread To look upon the same — Astarte !— No , I cannot speak to her — but bid her speak — Forgive me or condemn me . NEMESIS . By the Power which hath broken The grave which enthralled thee , Speak to him who hath spoken . Or those who have called thee ! She is silent , And in that silence I am more than answered . 110 Hear me , hear me — Astarte ! my belovéd ! speak to me : I have so much endured — so much endure — Look on me ! the grave hath not changed thee more Than I am changed for thee . Thou lovedst me 120 Too much , as I loved thee : we were not made To torture thus each other — though it were The deadliest sin to love as we have loved . Say that thou loath'st me not — that I do bear This punishment for both — that thou wilt be One of the blesséd — and that I shall die ; For hitherto all hateful things conspire To bind me in existence — in a life Which makes me shrink from Immortality — A future like the past . I cannot rest . 130 I know not what I ask , nor what I seek : I feel but what thou art , and what I am ; And I would hear yet once before I perish The voice which was my music — Speak to me ! For I have called on thee in the still night , Startled the slumbering birds from the hushed boughs , And woke the mountain wolves , and made the caves Acquainted with thy vainly echoed name , Which answered me — many things answered me — Spirits and men — but thou wert silent all . 140 Yet speak to me ! I have outwatched the stars , And gazed o'er heaven in vain in search of thee . Speak to me ! I have wandered o'er the earth , And never found thy likeness — Speak to me ! Look on the fiends around — they feel for me : I fear them not , and feel for thee alone . Speak to me ! though it be in wrath ;— but say — I reck not what — but let me hear thee once — This once — once more ! Phantom of Astarte . Manfred ! Say on , say on — I live but in the sound — it is thy voice ! 150 Yet one word more — am I forgiven ? Say , shall we meet again ? One word for mercy ! Say thou lovest me . None . We meet then ! Where ? On the earth ?— Even as thou wilt : and for the grace accorded I now depart a debtor . Fare ye well ! ACT III . What is the hour ? Say , Are all things so disposed of in the tower As I directed ? It is well : Thou mayst retire . There is a calm upon me — Inexplicable stillness ! which till now Did not belong to what I knew of life . If that I did not know Philosophy To be of all our vanities the motliest , 10 The merest word that ever fooled the ear From out the schoolman 's jargon , I should deem The golden secret , the sought “ Kalon , ” found ,And seated in my soul . It will not last , But it is well to have known it , though but once : It hath enlarged my thoughts with a new sense , And I within my tablets would note down That there is such a feeling . Who is there ? Re-enter HERMAN . Thanks , holy father ! welcome to these walls ; Thy presence honours them , and blesseth those Who dwell within them . Herman , retire .— What would my reverend guest ? Proceed ,— I listen . And what are they who do avouch these things ? Take it . I hear thee . This is my reply — whate'er I may have been , or am , doth rest between Heaven and myself — I shall not choose a mortal To be my mediator — Have I sinned Against your ordinances ? prove and punish ! Old man ! there is no power in holy men , Nor charm in prayer , nor purifying form Of penitence , nor outward look , nor fast , Nor agony — nor , greater than all these , The innate tortures of that deep Despair , 70 Which is Remorse without the fear of Hell , But all in all sufficient to itself Would make a hell of Heaven — can exorcise From out the unbounded spirit the quick sense Of its own sins — wrongs — sufferance — and revenge Upon itself ; there is no future pang Can deal that justice on the self — condemned He deals on his own soul . When Rome 's sixth Emperor was near his last , The victim of a self-inflicted wound , To shun the torments of a public death 90 From senates once his slaves , a certain soldier , With show of loyal pity , would have stanched The gushing throat with his officious robe ; The dying Roman thrust him back , and said — Some empire still in his expiring glance — “ It is too late — is this fidelity ? ” I answer with the Roman — “ It is too late ! ” Aye — father ! I have had those early visions , And noble aspirations in my youth , To make my own the mind of other men , The enlightener of nations ; and to rise I knew not whither — it might be to fall ; But fall , even as the mountain-cataract , Which having leapt from its more dazzling height , 110 Even in the foaming strength of its abyss , Lies low but mighty still .— But this is past , My thoughts mistook themselves . I could not tame my nature down ; for he Must serve who fain would sway ; and soothe , and sue , And watch all time , and pry into all place , And be a living Lie , who would become A mighty thing amongst the mean — and such 120 The mass are ; I disdained to mingle with A herd , though to be leader — and of wolves , The lion is alone , and so am I . Because my nature was averse from life ; And yet not cruel ; for I would not make , But find a desolation . Like the Wind , The red-hot breath of the most lone Simoom , Which dwells but in the desert , and sweeps o'er The barren sands which bear no shrubs to blast , 130 And revels o'er their wild and arid waves , And seeketh not , so that it is not sought , But being met is deadly ,— such hath been The course of my existence ; but there came Things in my path which are no more . Look on me ! there is an order Of mortals on the earth , who do become Old in their youth , and die ere middle age , 140 Without the violence of warlike death ; Some perishing of pleasure — some of study — Some worn with toil , some of mere weariness ,— Some of disease — and some insanity — And some of withered , or of broken hearts ; For this last is a malady which slays More than are numbered in the lists of Fate , Taking all shapes , and bearing many names . Look upon me ! for even of all these things Have I partaken ; and of all these things , 150 One were enough ; then wonder not that I Am what I am , but that I ever was , Or having been , that I am still on earth . Old man ! I do respect Thine order , and revere thine years ; I deem Thy purpose pious , but it is in vain : Think me not churlish ; I would spare thyself , Far more than me , in shunning at this time All further colloquy — and so — farewell . Doth he so ? I will look on him . Of early nature , and the vigorous race Of undiseased mankind , the giant sons Of the embrace of Angels , with a sex More beautiful than they , which did draw down The erring Spirits who can ne'er return .— Most glorious Orb ! that wert a worship , ere The mystery of thy making was revealed ! 10 Thou earliest minister of the Almighty , Which gladdened , on their mountain tops , the hearts Of the Chaldean shepherds , till they poured Themselves in orisons ! Thou material God ! And representative of the Unknown — Who chose thee for his shadow ! Thou chief Star ! Centre of many stars ! which mak'st our earth Endurable and temperest the hues And hearts of all who walk within thy rays ! Sire of the seasons ! Monarch of the climes , 20 And those who dwell in them ! for near or far , Our inborn spirits have a tint of thee Even as our outward aspects ;— thou dost rise , And shine , and set in glory . Fare thee well ! I ne'er shall see thee more . As my first glance Of love and wonder was for thee , then take My latest look : thou wilt not beam on one To whom the gifts of life and warmth have been Of a more fatal nature . He is gone — I follow . Thou know'st me not ; My days are numbered , and my deeds recorded : Retire , or ‘ twill be dangerous — Away ! Not I ! I simply tell thee peril is at hand , And would preserve thee . Look there ! What dost thou see ? Look there , I say , And steadfastly ;— now tell me what thou seest ? 60 Thou hast no cause — he shall not harm thee — but His sight may shock thine old limbs into palsy . I say to thee — Retire ! Why — aye — what doth he here ? I did not send for him ,— he is unbidden . Pronounce — what is thy mission ? I am prepared for all things , but deny The Power which summons me . Who sent thee here ? I have commanded Things of an essence greater far than thine , And striven with thy masters . Get thee hence ! I knew , and know my hour is come , but not To render up my soul to such as thee : Away ! I 'll die as I have lived — alone . 90 I do defy ye ,— though I feel my soul Is ebbing from me , yet I do defy ye ; 100 Nor will I hence , while I have earthly breath To breathe my scorn upon ye — earthly strength To wrestle , though with spirits ; what ye take Shall be ta'en limb by limb . Thou false fiend , thou liest ! My life is in its last hour ,— that I know , 110 Nor would redeem a moment of that hour ; I do not combat against Death , but thee And thy surrounding angels ; my past power Was purchased by no compact with thy crew , But by superior science — penance , daring , And length of watching , strength of mind , and skill In knowledge of our Fathers — when the earth Saw men and spirits walking side by side , And gave ye no supremacy : I stand Upon my strength — I do defy — deny — 120 Spurn back , and scorn ye !— What are they to such as thee ? Must crimes be punished but by other crimes , And greater criminals ?— Back to thy hell ! Thou hast no power upon me , that I feel ; Thou never shalt possess me , that I know : What I have done is done ; I bear within A torture which could nothing gain from thine : The Mind which is immortal makes itself Requital for its good or evil thoughts ,— 130 Is its own origin of ill and end — And its own place and time : its innate sense , When stripped of this mortality , derives No colour from the fleeting things without , But is absorbed in sufferance or in joy , Born from the knowledge of its own desert . Thou didst not tempt me , and thou couldst not tempt me ; I have not been thy dupe , nor am thy prey — But was my own destroyer , and will be My own hereafter .— Back , ye baffled fiends ! 140 The hand of Death is on me — but not yours ! ‘ Tis over — my dull eyes can fix thee not ; But all things swim around me , and the earth Heaves as it were beneath me . Fare thee well — Give me thy hand . Old man ! ‘ tis not so difficult to die . Charity , most reverend father , Becomes thy lips so much more than this menace , That I would call thee back to it : but say , What would'st thou with me ? I understand thee ,— well ! Stop — There is a gift for thee within this casket . The DEMON ASHTAROTH appears , singing as follows :— The raven sits On the Raven-stone ,And his black wing flits O'er the milk — white bone ; 20 To and fro , as the night — winds blow , The carcass of the assassin swings ; And there alone , on the Raven-stone , The raven flaps his dusky wings . The fetters creak — and his ebon beak Croaks to the close of the hollow sound ; And this is the tune , by the light of the Moon , To which the Witches dance their round — Merrily — merrily — cheerily — cheerily — Merrily — merrily — speeds the ball : 30 The dead in their shrouds , and the Demons in clouds , Flock to the Witches ’ Carnival . Convey this man to the Shreckhorn — to its peak — To its extremest peak — watch with him there From now till sunrise ; let him gaze , and know He ne'er again will be so near to Heaven . But harm him not ; and , when the morrow breaks , Set him down safe in his cell — away with him ! 40 No , this will serve for the present . Take him up . Why would this fool break in on me , and force 50 My art to pranks fantastical ?— no matter , It was not of my seeking . My heart sickens , And weighs a fixed foreboding on my soul . But it is calm — calm as a sullen sea After the hurricane ; the winds are still , But the cold waves swell high and heavily , And there is danger in them . Such a rest Is no repose . My life hath been a combat , And every thought a wound , till I am scarred In the immortal part of me .— What now ? ] 60“ Raven-stone, a translation of the German word for the gibbet , which in Germany and Switzerland is permanent , and made of stone . ”A prodigal son — and a pregnant nun , nun , And a widow re-wedded within the year — And a calf at grass — and a priest at mass . Are things which every day appear .—{ 122 }{ 124 }/ not loss of life , but \ To shun < > public death —\ the torments of a /