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"Man. Ay.—Father! I have had those earthly visions
And noble aspirations in my youth,
To make my own the mind of other men,
The enlightener of nations; and to rise
I knew not whither it might be to fall;
But fall, even as the mountain-cataract,
Which having leapt from its more dazzling height,
Even in the foaming strength of its abyss,
(Which cast up misty columns, that become
Clouds raining from the re-ascended skies,)
Lies low, but mighty still.—But this is past,
My thoughts mistook themselves.
Abbot. ———And wherefore so?
Man. I could not tame my nature down; for he
Must serve who fain would sway—and soothe—and sue—
And watch all time—and pry into all place—
And be a living lie—who would become
A mighty tiling amongst the mean, and such
The mass are; I disdain to mingle with
A herd, though to be leader—and of wolves.
The lion is alone, and so am I.
Abbot. And why not live and act with other men?
Man. Because my nature was averse from life,
And yet not cruel; for I would not make,
But find a desolation;—like the wind,
The red-hot breath of the most lone Simoom,
Which dwells but in the desert, and sweeps o'er
The barren sands which bear no shrubs to blast,
And revels o'er their wild and arid waves,
And seeketh not, so that it is not sought,
But being met is deadly; such hath been
The course of my existence; but there came
Things in my path which are no more."</poem?

But besides the anguish and perturbation produced by his fatal scepticism in regard to earth and heaven, vice and virtue, man and God,—Manfred's soul has been stained by one secret and dreadful sin, and is bowed down by the weight of blood. It requires to read the drama with more than ordinary attention, to discover the full import of those broken, short, and dark expressions, by which he half confesses, and half conceals, even from himself, the perpetration of this inexpiable guilt. In a conversation with a chamois-hunter, in his Alpine cot- tage, he thus suddenly breaks out:—

<poem>:"Man. Away, away! there's blood upon the brim!
Will it then never never sink in the earth?
C. Hun. What dost thou mean? thy senses wander from thee.
Man. I say 'tis blood—my blood! the pure warm stream
Which ran in the veins of my fathers, and in ours,
When we were in our youth, and had one heart,
And loved each other as we should not love,
And this was shed; but still it rises up,
Colouring the clouds that shut me out from Heaven,
Where thou art not—and I shall never be."
He afterwards says:
"My injuries came down on those who loved me—
On those whom I best loved—I never quelled
An enemy save in my just defence,
But my embrace was fatal."

"Man. But to my task. I have not named to thee,
Father or mother, mistress, friend, or being,
With whom I wore the chain of human ties;
If I had such, they seem'd not such to me
Yet there was one——
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 lov'd 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 withered. I have shed
Blood, but not hers and yet her blood was shed—
I saw—and could not staunch it."