by Byron
My whole life was a contest, since the day
That gave me being, gave me that which marr’d
The gift, – a fate, or will, that walk’d astray;
And I at times have found the struggle hard,
30
And thought of shaking off my bonds of clay:
But now I fain would for a time survive,
If but to see what next can well arrive.
V
Kingdoms and empires in my little day
I have outlived, and yet I am not old;
35
And when I look on this, the petty spray
Of my own years of trouble, which have roll’d
Like a wild bay of breakers, melts away:
Something – I know not what – does still uphold
A spirit of slight patience; – not in vain,
40
Even for its own sake, do we purchase pain.
VI
Perhaps the workings of defiance stir
Within me, – or perhaps a cold despair,
Brought on when ills habitually recur, –
Perhaps a kinder clime, or purer air,
45
(For even to this may change of soul refer,
And with light armour we may learn to bear,)
Have taught me a strange quiet, which was not
The chief companion of a calmer lot.
VII
I feel almost at times as I have felt
50
In happy childhood; trees, and flowers, and brooks,
Which do remember me of where I dwelt
Ere my young mind was sacrificed to books,
Come as of yore upon me, and can melt
My heart with recognition of their looks;
55
And even at moments I could think I see
Some living thing to love – but none like thee.
VIII
Here are the Alpine landscapes which create
A fund for contemplation; – to admire
Is a brief feeling of a trivial date;
60
But something worthier do such scenes inspire:
Here to be lonely is not desolate,
For much I view which I could most desire,
And, above all, a lake I can behold
Lovelier, not dearer, than our own of old.
IX
65
Oh that thou wert but with me! – but I grow
The fool of my own wishes, and forget
The solitude which I have vaunted so
Has lost its praise in this but one regret;
There may be others which I less may show; -
70
I am not of the plaintive mood, and yet
I feel an ebb in my philosophy,
And the tide rising in my alter’d eye.
X
I did remind thee of our own dear Lake,
By the old Hall which may be mine no more.
75
Leman’s is fair; but think not I forsake
The sweet remembrance of a dearer shore:
Sad havoc Time must with my memory make
Ere that or thou can fade these eyes before;
Though, like all things which I have loved, they are
80
Resign’d for ever, or divided far.
XI
The world is all before me; I but ask
Of Nature that with which she will comply –
It is but in her summer’s sun to bask,
To mingle with the quiet of her sky,
85
To see her gentle face without a mask,
And never gaze on it with apathy.
She was my early friend, and now shall be
My sister – till I look again on thee.
XII
I can reduce all feelings but this one;
90
And that I would not; – for at length I see
Such scenes as those wherein my life begun.
The earliest – even the only paths for me –
Had I but sooner learnt the crowd to shun,
I had been better than I now can be;
95
The passions which have torn me would have slept;
I had not suffer’d, and thou hadst not wept.
XIII
With false Ambition what had I to do?
Little with Love, and least of all with Fame;
And yet they came unsought, and with me grew,
100
And made me all which they can make – a name.
Yet this was not the end I did pursue;
Surely I once beheld a nobler aim.
But all is over – I am one the more
To baffled millions which have gone before.
XIV
105
And for the future, this world’s future may
From me demand but little of my care;
I have outlived myself by many a day;
Having survived so many things that were;
My years have been no slumber, but the prey
110
Of ceaseless vigils; for I had the share
Of life which might have fill’d a century,
Before its fourth in time had pass’d me by.
XV
And for the remnant which may be to come
I am content; and for the past I feel
115
Not thankless, — for within the crowded sum
Of struggles, happiness at times would steal,
And for the present, I would not benumb
My feelings farther. — Nor shall I conceal
That with all this I still can look around
120
And worship Nature with a thought profound.
XVI
For thee, my own sweet sister, in thy heart
I know myself secure, as thou in mine;
We were and are — I am, even as thou art —
Beings who ne’er each other can resign;
125
It is the same, together or apart,
From life’s commencement to its slow decline
We are entwined — let death come slow or fast,
The tie which bound the first endures the last!
Lines (On Hearing that Lady Byron mas Ill)
And thou wert sad – yet I was not with thee;
And thou wert sick, and yet I was not near;
Methought that joy and health alone could be
Where I was not — and pain and sorrow here!
5
And is it thus? – it is as I foretold,
And shall be more so; for the mind recoils
Upon itself, and the wreck’d heart lies cold,
While heaviness collects the shatter’d spoils
It is not in the storm nor in the strife
10
We feel benumb’d, and wish to be no more,
But in the after-silence on the shore,
When all is lost, except a little life.
I am too well avenged! – but ’twas my right;
Whate’er my sins might be, thou wert not sent
15
To be the Nemesis who should requite –
Nor did Heaven choose so near an instrument.
Mercy is for the merciful! – if thou
Hast been of such, ’twill be accorded now.
Thy nights are banish’d from the realms of sleep! –
20
Yes! they may flatter thee, but thou shalt feel
A hollow agony which will not heal,
For thou art pillow’d on a curse too deep;
Thou hast sown in my sorrow, and must reap
The bitter harvest in a woe as real!
25
I have had many foes, but none like thee;
For ’gainst the rest myself I could defend
And be avenged, or turn them into friend;
But thou in safe implacability
Hadst nought to
dread – in thy own weakness shielded,
30
And in my love, which hath but too much yielded,
And spared, for thy sake, some I should not spare –
And thus upon the world – trust in thy truth –
And the wild fame of my ungovern’d youth –
On things that were not, and on things that are —
35
Even upon such a basis hast thou built
A monument, whose cement hath been guilt!
The moral Clytemnestra of thy lord,
And hew’d down, with an unsuspected sword,
Fame, peace, and hope — and all the better life
40
Which, but for this cold treason of thy heart,
Might still have risen from out the grave of strife,
And found a nobler duty than to part.
But of thy virtues didst thou make a vice,
Trafficking with them in a purpose cold,
45
For present anger, and for future gold –
And buying other’s grief at any price.
And thus once enter’d into crooked ways,
The early truth, which was thy proper praise,
Did not still walk beside thee — but at times,
50
And with a breast unknowing its own crimes,
Deceit, averments incompatible,
Equivocations, and the thoughts which dwell
In Janus-spirits – the significant eye
Which learns to lie with silence — the pretext
55
Of Prudence, with advantages annex’d —
The acquiescence in all things which tend,
No matter how, to the desired end —
All found a place in thy philosophy.
The means were worthy, and the end is won –
60
I would not do by thee as thou hast done!
September, 1816.
MANFRED
A Dramatic Poem
‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’
Dramatis Personæ
MANFRED
CHAMOIS HUNTER
ABBOT OF ST MAURICE
MANUEL
HERMAN
WITCH OF THE ALPS
ARIMANES
NEMESIS
THE DESTINIES
SPIRITS, &C.
The Scene of the Drama is amongst the Higher Alps — partly in the Castle of Manfred, and partly in the Mountains.
Act I
SCENE I
MANFRED alone. — Scene, a Gothic Gallery. — Time, Midnight.
MANFRED: The lamp must be replenish’d, 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,
5
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;)
10
Sorrow is knowledge: they who know the most
Must mourn the deepest o’er the fatal truth,
The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life.
Philosophy and science, and the springs
Of wonder, and the wisdom of the world,
15
I have essay’d, 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 avail’d not: I have had my foes,
20
And none have baffled, many fallen before me –
But this avail’d 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,
25
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!
30
Whom I have sought in darkness and in light –
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 —
35
I call upon ye by the written charm
Which gives me power upon you — Rise! appear!
[A pause.]
They come not yet. — Now by the voice of him
Who is the first among you – by this sign,
Which makes you tremble – by the claims of him
40
Who is undying, – Rise! appear! — Appear!
[A pause.]
If it be so. – Spirits of earth and air,
Ye shall not thus elude me: by a power,
Deeper than all yet urged, a tyrant-spell,
Which had its birthplace in a star condemn’d,
45
The burning wreck of a demolish’d world,
A wandering hell in the eternal space;
By the strong curse which is upon my soul,
The thought which is within me and around me,
I do compel ye to my will. – Appear!
[A star is seen at the darker end of the gallery: it is stationary; and a voice is heard singing.]
FIRST SPIRIT
50
Mortal! to thy bidding bow’d,
From my mansion in the cloud,
Which the breath of twilight builds,
And the summer’s sunset gilds
With the azure and vermilion,
55
Which is mix’d for my pavilion;
Though thy quest may be forbidden,
On a star-beam I have ridden;
To thine adjuration bow’d,
Mortal – be thy wish avow’d!
Voice of the SECOND SPIRIT
60
Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains;
They crown’d him long ago
On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds,
With a diadem of snow.
Around his waist are forests braced,
65
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;
70
But I am he who bids it pass,
Or with its ice delay.
I am the spirit of the place,
Could make the mountain bow
And quiver to his cavern’d base –
75
And what with me wouldst 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,
80
Where the Mermaid is decking
Her green hair with shells;
Like the storm on the surface
Came the sound of thy spells;
O’er my calm Hall of Coral
85
The deep echo roll’d –
To the Spirit of Ocean
Thy wishes unfold!
FOURTH SPIRIT
Where the slumbering earthquake
Lies pillow’d on fire,
90
And the lakes of bitumen
Rise boilingly higher;
Where the roots of the Andes
Strike deep in the
earth,
As their summits to heaven
95
Shoot soaringly forth;
I have quitted my birthplace,
Thy bidding to bide —
Thy spell hath subdued me,
Thy will be my guide!
FIFTH SPIRIT
100
I am the Rider of the wind,
The Stirrer of the storm;
The hurricane I left behind
Is yet with lightning warm;
To speed to thee, o’er shore and sea
105
I swept upon the blast:
The fleet I met sail’d 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
110
The star which rules thy destiny
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,
115
Space bosom’d 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;
120
Still rolling on with innate force,
Without a sphere, without a course,
A bright deformity on high,
The monster of the upper sky!
And thou! beneath its influence born –
125
Thou worm! whom I obey and scorn –
Forced by a power (which is not thine,
And lent thee but to make thee mine)
For this brief moment to descend,
Where these weak spirits round thee bend
130
And parley with a thing like thee –
What wouldst 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 –
135
What wouldst thou with us, son of mortals – say?
MANFRED: Forgetfulness –
FIRST SPIRIT:Of what — of whom — and why?
MANFRED: Of that which is within me; read it there –
Ye know it, and I cannot utter it.
SPIRIT: We can but give thee that which we possess:
140
Ask of us subjects, sovereignty, the power
O’er earth, the whole, or portion, or a sign
Which shall control the elements, whereof
We are the dominators, each and all,
These shall be thine.
MANFRED:Oblivion, self-oblivion –
145
Can ye not wring from out the hidden realms
Ye offer so profusely what I ask?
SPIRIT: It is not in our essence, in our skill;
But — thou mayst die.
MANFRED:Will death bestow it on me?
SPIRIT: We are immortal, and do not forget;
