Lord Byron (1788–1824). Manfred.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
Act II
Scene IIIAnd here on snows, where never human foot Of common mortal trod, we nightly tread, And leave no traces; o’er the savage sea, The glassy ocean of the mountain ice, We skim its rugged breakers, which put on The aspect of a tumbling tempest’s foam, Frozen in a moment—a dead whirlpool’s image. And this most steep fantastic pinnacle, The fretwork of some earthquake—where the clouds Is sacred to our revels, or our vigils. Here do I wait my sisters, on our way To the Hall of Arimanes, for to—night Is our great festival—’t is strange they come not. Hurl’d down from the throne, Lay buried in torpor, Forgotten and lone; I broke through his slumbers, I shiver’d his chain, I leagued him with numbers— He’s Tyrant again! With the blood of a million he’ll answer my care, With a nation’s destruction—his flight and despair. But I left not a sail, and I left not a mast; There is not a plank of the hull or the deck, And there is not a wretch to lament o’er his wreck; Save one, whom I held, as he swam, by the hair, And he was a subject well worthy my care; A traitor on land, and a pirate at sea— But I saved him to wreak further havoc for me! The morn, to deplore it, May dawn on it weeping: Sullenly, slowly, The black plague flew o’er it,— Thousands lie lowly; Tens of thousands shall perish— The living shall fly from But nothing can vanquish The touch that they die from. Sorrow and anguish, And evil and dread, Envelope a nation— The blest are the dead, Who see not the sight Of their own desolation; This work of a night— This wreck of a realm—this deed of my doing— For ages I’ve done, and shall still be renewing! Our footsteps are their graves; We only give to take again The spirits of our slaves! First Des.Welcome! Where’s Nemesis? Second Des.At some great work; But what I know not, for my hands were full. Third Des.Behold she cometh. First Des.Say, where hast thou been? My sisters and thyself are slow to—night. Nem.I was detain’d repairing shatter’d thrones, Marrying fools, restoring dynasties, Avenging men upon their enemies, And making them repent their own revenge; Goading the wise to madness; from the dull Shaping out oracles to rule the world Afresh, for they were waxing out of date, And mortals dared to ponder for themselves, Of freedom, the forbidden fruit.—Away! We have outstay’d the hour—mount we our clouds![Exeunt.
The Captive Usurper,
The ship sail’d on, the ship sail’d fast,
The city lies sleeping;
Our hands contain the hearts of men,