_Her._ Come, be friendly; Relate me some, to while away our watch: I've heard thee darkly speak of an event Which happened hereabouts, by this same tower.

_Manuel._ That was a night indeed! I do remember 'Twas twilight, as it may be now, and such Another evening;--yon red cloud, which rests On Eigher's pinnacle, so rested then,-- So like that it might be the same; the wind Was faint and gusty, and the mountain snows Began to glitter with the climbing moon; Count Manfred was, as now, within his tower,-- How occupied, we knew not, but with him The sole companion of his wanderings And watchings--her, whom of all earthly things That lived, the only thing he seemed to love,-- As he, indeed, by blood was bound to do, The lady Astarte, his--

_Her._ Look--look--the tower-- The tower's on fire. Oh, heavens and earth! what sound, What dreadful sound is that? [_A crash like thunder._

_Manuel._ Help, help, there!--to the rescue of the Count,-- The Count's in danger,--what ho! there! approach!

_The Servants, Va.s.sals, and Peasantry approach, stupified with terror._

If there be any of you who have heart And love of human kind, and will to aid Those in distress--pause not--but follow me-- The portal's open, follow. [MANUEL _goes in._

_Her._ Come--who follows?

What, none of ye?--ye recreants! shiver then Without. I will not see old Manuel risk His few remaining years unaided. [HERMAN _goes in._

_Va.s.sal._ Hark!-- No--all is silent--not a breath--the flame Which shot forth such a blaze is also gone; What may this mean? Let's enter!

_Peasant._ Faith, not I,-- Not that, if one, or two, or more, will join, I then will stay behind; but, for my part, I do not see precisely to what end.

_Va.s.sal._ Cease your vain prating--come.

_Manuel._ (_speaking within._) 'Tis all in vain-- He's dead.

_Her._ (_within._) Not so--even now methought he moved; But it is dark--so bear him gently out-- Softly--how cold he is! take care of his temples In winding down the staircase.

_Re-enter_ MANUEL _and_ HERMAN, _bearing_ MANFRED _in their arms._

_Manuel._ Hie to the castle, some of ye, and bring What aid you can. Saddle the barb, and speed For the leech to the city--quick! some water there!

_Her._ His cheek is black--but there is a faint beat Still lingering about the heart. Some water.

[_They sprinkle_ MANFRED _with water; after a pause, he gives some signs of life._

_Manuel._ He seems to strive to speak--come--cheerly, Count!

He moves his lips--canst hear him? I am old, And cannot catch faint sounds.

[HERMAN _inclining his head and listening._

_Her._ I hear a word Or two--but indistinctly--what is next?

What's to be done? let's bear him to the castle.

[MANFRED _motions with his hand not to remove him._

_Manuel._ He disapproves--and 'twere of no avail-- He changes rapidly.

_Her._ 'Twill soon be over.

_Manuel._ Oh! what a death is this! that I should live To shake my gray hairs over the last chief Of the house of Sigismund.--And such a death!

Alone--we know not how--unshrived--untended-- With strange accompaniments and fearful signs-- I shudder at the sight--but must not leave him.

_Manfred._ (_speaking faintly and slowly._) Old man! 'tis not so difficult to die. [MANFRED _having said this expires._

_Her._ His eyes are fixed and lifeless.--He is gone.--

_Manuel._ Close them.--My old hand quivers.--He departs-- Whither? I dread to think--but he is gone!

[Footnote 1: It will be perceived that, as far as this, the original matter of the third Act has been retained.]

[Footnote 2: "Raven-stone (Rabenstein), a translation of the German word for the gibbet, which in Germany and Switzerland is permanent, and made of stone."]

[Footnote 3: This fine soliloquy, and a great part of the subsequent scene, have, it is hardly necessary to remark been retained in the present form of the Drama.]

[Footnote 4: Altered in the present form, to "some strange things in them, Herman."]

LETTER 278. TO MR. MURRAY.

"Rome, May 9. 1817.

"Address all answers to Venice; for there I shall return in fifteen days, G.o.d willing.

"I sent you from Florence 'The Lament of Ta.s.so,' and from Rome the third Act of Manfred, both of which, I trust, will duly arrive. The terms of these two I mentioned in my last, and will repeat in this, it is three hundred for each, or _six_ hundred guineas for the two--that is, if you like, and they are good for any thing.

"At last one of the parcels is arrived. In the notes to Childe Harold there is a blunder of yours or mine: you talk of arrival at _St. Gingo_, and, immediately after, add--'on the height is the Chateau of Clarens.' This is sad work: Clarens is on the _other_ side of the Lake, and it is quite impossible that I should have so bungled. Look at the MS.; and at any rate rectify it.

"The 'Tales of my Landlord' I have read with great pleasure, and perfectly understand now why my sister and aunt are so very positive in the very erroneous persuasion that they must have been written by me. If you knew me as well as they do, you would have fallen, perhaps, into the same mistake. Some day or other, I will explain to you _why_--when I have time; at present, it does not much matter; but you must have thought this blunder of theirs very odd, and so did I, till I had read the book. Croker's letter to you is a very great compliment; I shall return it to you in my next.

"I perceive you are publishing a Life of Raffael d'Urbino: it may perhaps interest you to hear that a set of German artists here allow their _hair_ to grow, and trim it into _his fashion_, thereby drinking the c.u.mmin of the disciples of the old philosopher; if they would cut their hair, convert it into brushes, and paint like him, it would be more '_German_ to the matter.'

"I'll tell you a story: the other day, a man here--an English--mistaking the statues of Charlemagne and Constantine, which are _equestrian_, for those of Peter and Paul, asked another _which_ was Paul of these same hors.e.m.e.n?--to which the reply was,--'I thought, sir, that St. Paul had never got on _horseback_ since his _accident_?'

"I'll tell you another: Henry Fox, writing to some one from Naples the other day, after an illness, adds--'and I am so changed, that my _oldest creditors_ would hardly know me.'

"I am delighted with Rome--as I would be with a bandbox, that is, it is a fine thing to see, finer than Greece; but I have not been here long enough to affect it as a residence, and I must go back to Lombardy, because I am wretched at being away from Marianna. I have been riding my saddle-horses every day, and been to Albano, its Lakes, and to the top of the Alban Mount, and to Frescati, Aricia, &c. &c. with an &c. &c. &c. about the city, and in the city: for all which--vide Guide-book. As a whole, ancient and modern, it beats Greece, Constantinople, every thing--at least that I have ever seen. But I can't describe, because my first impressions are always strong and confused, and my memory _selects_ and reduces them to order, like distance in the landscape, and blends them better, although they may be less distinct. There must be a sense or two more than we have, us mortals; for * * * * * where there is much to be grasped we are always at a loss, and yet feel that we ought to have a higher and more extended comprehension.

"I have had a letter from Moore, who is in some alarm about his poem. I don't see why.

"I have had another from my poor dear Augusta, who is in a sad fuss about my late illness; do, pray, tell her (the truth) that I am better than ever, and in importunate health, growing (if not grown) large and ruddy, and congratulated by impertinent persons on my robustious appearance, when I ought to be pale and interesting.

"You tell me that George Byron has got a son, and Augusta says, a daughter; which is it?--it is no great matter: the father is a good man, an excellent officer, and has married a very nice little woman, who will bring him more babes than income; howbeit she had a handsome dowry, and is a very charming girl;--but he may as well get a ship.

"I have no thoughts of coming amongst you yet awhile, so that I can fight off business. If I could but make a tolerable sale of Newstead, there would be no occasion for my return; and I can a.s.sure you very sincerely, that I am much happier (or, at least, have been so) out of your island than in it.

"Yours ever.

"P.S. There are few English here, but several of my acquaintance; amongst others, the Marquis of Lansdowne, with whom I dine to-morrow. I met the Jerseys on the road at Foligno--all well.

"Oh--I forgot--the Italians have printed Chillon, &c. a _piracy_,--a pretty little edition, prettier than yours--and published, as I found to my great astonishment on arriving here; and what is odd, is, that the English is quite correctly printed.