And roll the sheeted silver's waving column (MANFRED takes some of the water into the palm MAN. Beautiful Spirit! with thy hair of light, Of purer elements; while the hues of youth,— Or the rose tints, which summer's twilight leaves The blush of earth embracing with her heaven,- The beauties of the sunbow which bends o'er thee. Beautiful Spirit! in thy calm clear brow, Wherein is glass'd serenity of soul, I read that thou wilt pardon to a Son WITCH. Son of Earth! I know thee, and the powers which give thee power; I have expected this-what wouldst thou with me? MAN. To look upon thy beauty-nothing further. The face of the earth hath madden'd me, and I Take refuge in her mysteries, and pierce 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 WITCH. What could be the quest Which is not in the power of the most powerful, 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; On the swift whirl of the new breaking wave hese were my pastimes, and to be alone; or if the beings, of whom I was one,— ating to be so,-cross'd me in my path, felt myself degraded back to them, nd was all clay again. And then I dived, my lone wanderings, to the caves of death, earching its cause in its effect; and drew rom wither'd bones, and skulls, and heap'd up dust, Fonclusions most forbidden. Then I pass'd "he nights of years in sciences untaught, -ave in the old-time; and with time and toil, nd terrible ordeal, and such penance s in itself hath power upon the air, And spirits that do compass air and earth, pace, and the peopled infinite, I made Mine eyes familiar with Eternity, uch as, before me, did the Magi, and He who from out their fountain dwellings raised as I do thee;-and with my knowledge grew MAN. Oh! I but thus prolong'd my words, As I approach the core of my heart's grief But to my task. I have not named to thee WITCH. Spare not thyself-proceed. MAN. 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 soften'd all, and temper'd into beauty; She had the same lone thoughts and wanderings, The quest of hidden knowledge, and a mind 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 destroy'd her! WITCH. With thy hand? MAN. Not with my hand, but heart-which broke her heart It gazed on mine, and wither'd. I have shed Blood, but not hers-and yet her blood was shedI saw and could not stanch it. WITCH. And for this |