The breath of degradation and of pride, And men are what they name not to themselves, [The Shepherd's pipe in the distance is heard. The natural music of the mountain reed- A pastoral fable-pipes in the liberal air, Enter from below a CHAMOIS HUNTER. CHAMOIS HUNTER. Even so This way the chamois leapt her nimble feet : Have baffled me; my gains to-day will scarce Proud as a free-born peasant's, at this distance.— I will approach him nearer. MAN. (not perceiving the other.) To be thusGray-hair'd with anguish, like these blasted pines, Wrecks of a single winter, barkless, branchless, A blighted trunk upon a cursed root, Which but supplies a feeling to decayAnd to be thus, eternally but thus, Having been otherwise! Now furrow'd o'er With wrinkles, plough'd by moments, not by years; Ye avalanches, whom a breath draws down Crash with a frequent conflict; but ye pass, C. HUN. The mists begin to rise from up the valley; MAN. 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, Seems tottering already. MAN. Mountains have fallen, Leaving a gap in the clouds, and with the shock The ripe green valleys with destruction's splinters; C. HUN. Friend! have a care, Your next step may be fatal!-for the love Of him who made you, stand not on that brink! MAN. (not hearing him.) 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 Ye were not meant for me-Earth! take these atoms! (As MANFRED is in act to spring from the cliff, the CHAMOIS HUNTER seizes and retains him with a sudden grasp.) C. HUN. Hold, madman !—though aweary of thy life, Stain not our pure vales with thy guilty blood.Away with me. I will not quit my hold. MAN. I am most sick at heart-nay, grasp me notI am all feebleness-the mountains whirl Spinning around me--I grow blind-What art thou? C. HUN. I'll answer that anon.-Away with meThe clouds grow thicker-there-now lean on me— Place your foot here-here, take this staff, and cling A moment to that shrub-now give me your hand, And hold fast by my girdle-softly—well— The Chalet will be gain'd within an hour-Come on, we'll quickly find a surer footing, And something like a pathway, which the torrent Hath wash'd since winter.-Come, 'tis bravely doneYou should have been a hunter.-Follow me. (As they descend the rocks with difficulty, the scene closes.) END OF ACT THE FIRST. ACT II. SCENE I. A Cottage amongst the Bernese Alps. MANFRED and the CHAMOIS HUNTER. C. HUN. No, no-yet pause-thou must not yet go forth: Thy mind and body are alike unfit To trust each other, for some hours, at least; But whither? MAN. It imports not: I do know My route full well, and need no further guidance. One of the many chiefs, whose castled crags |