Читать книгу Manfred (With Byron's Biography) - Lord Byron - Страница 7

I am the Rider of the wind,100

The Stirrer of the storm;

The hurricane I left behind

Is yet with lightning warm;

To speed to thee, o'er shore and sea

I swept upon the blast:

The fleet I met sailed well—and yet

'Twill sink ere night be past.

Sixth Spirit.

My dwelling is the shadow of the Night,

Why doth thy magic torture me with light?

Seventh Spirit.

The Star which rules thy destiny no110

Was ruled, ere earth began, by me:

It was a World as fresh and fair

As e'er revolved round Sun in air;

Its course was free and regular,

Space bosomed not a lovelier star.

The Hour arrived—and it became

A wandering mass of shapeless flame,

A pathless Comet, and a curse,

The menace of the Universe;

Still rolling on with innate force,120

Without a sphere, without a course,

A bright deformity on high,

The monster of the upper sky!

And Thou! beneath its influence born—

Thou worm! whom I obey and scorn—

Forced by a Power (which is not thine,

And lent thee but to make thee mine)

For this brief moment to descend,

Where these weak Spirits round thee bend

And parley with a thing like thee—130

What would'st thou, Child of Clay! with me?112

The Seven Spirits.

Earth—ocean—air—night—mountains—winds—thy Star,

Are at thy beck and bidding, Child of Clay!

Before thee at thy quest their Spirits are—

What would'st thou with us, Son of mortals—say?

Man. Forgetfulness——

First Spirit. Of what—of whom—and why?

Man. Of that which is within me; read it there— Ye know it—and I cannot utter it.

Spirit. We can but give thee that which we possess: Ask of us subjects, sovereignty, the power140 O'er earth—the whole, or portion—or a sign Which shall control the elements, whereof We are the dominators,—each and all, These shall be thine.

Man. Oblivion—self-oblivion! Can ye not wring from out the hidden realms Ye offer so profusely—what I ask?

Spirit. It is not in our essence, in our skill; But—thou may'st die.

Man. Will Death bestow it on me?

Spirit. We are immortal, and do not forget; We are eternal; and to us the past150 Is, as the future, present. Art thou answered?

Man. Ye mock me—but the Power which brought ye here Hath made you mine. Slaves, scoff not at my will! The Mind—the Spirit—the Promethean spark,at The lightning of my being, is as bright, Pervading, and far darting as your own, And shall not yield to yours, though cooped in clay! Answer, or I will teach you what I am.au

Spirit. We answer—as we answered; our reply Is even in thine own words.

Man. Why say ye so?160

Spirit. If, as thou say'st, thine essence be as ours, We have replied in telling thee, the thing Mortals call death hath nought to do with us.

Man. I then have called ye from your realms in vain; Ye cannot, or ye will not, aid me.

Spirit. Say—113 What we possess we offer; it is thine: Bethink ere thou dismiss us; ask again; Kingdom, and sway, and strength, and length of days—

Man. Accurséd! what have I to do with days? They are too long already.—Hence—begone!170

Spirit. Yet pause: being here, our will would do thee service; Bethink thee, is there then no other gift Which we can make not worthless in thine eyes?

Man. No, none: yet stay—one moment, ere we part, I would behold ye face to face. I hear Your voices, sweet and melancholy sounds, As Music on the waters;114 and I see The steady aspect of a clear large Star; But nothing more. Approach me as ye are, Or one—or all—in your accustomed forms.180

Spirit. We have no forms, beyond the elements Of which we are the mind and principle: But choose a form—in that we will appear.

Man. I have no choice; there is no form on earth Hideous or beautiful to me. Let him, Who is most powerful of ye, take such aspect As unto him may seem most fitting—Come!

Seventh Spirit (appearing in the shape of a beautiful female figure).115 Behold!

Man. Oh God! if it be thus, and thou116 Art not a madness and a mockery, I yet might be most happy. I will clasp thee,190 And we again will be—— The figure vanishes. My heart is crushed! Manfred falls senseless.

(A voice is heard in the Incantation which follows.)117

When the Moon is on the wave,

And the glow-worm in the grass,

And the meteor on the grave,

And the wisp on the morass;118 When the falling stars are shooting, And the answered owls are hooting, And the silent leaves are still In the shadow of the hill, Shall my soul be upon thine,200 With a power and with a sign.

Though thy slumber may be deep,

Yet thy Spirit shall not sleep;

There are shades which will not vanish,

There are thoughts thou canst not banish;

By a Power to thee unknown,

Thou canst never be alone;

Thou art wrapt as with a shroud,

Thou art gathered in a cloud;

And for ever shalt thou dwell210

In the spirit of this spell.

Though thou seest me not pass by,

Thou shalt feel me with thine eye

As a thing that, though unseen,

Must be near thee, and hath been;

And when in that secret dread

Thou hast turned around thy head,

Thou shalt marvel I am not

As thy shadow on the spot,

And the power which thou dost feel220

Shall be what thou must conceal.

And a magic voice and verse

Hath baptized thee with a curse;

And a Spirit of the air

Hath begirt thee with a snare;

In the wind there is a voice

Shall forbid thee to rejoice;

And to thee shall Night deny

All the quiet of her sky;

And the day shall have a sun,230

Which shall make thee wish it done.

From thy false tears I did distil

An essence which hath strength to kill;

From thy own heart I then did wring

The black blood in its blackest spring;

From thy own smile I snatched the snake,

For there it coiled as in a brake;

From thy own lip I drew the charm

Which gave all these their chiefest harm;

In proving every poison known,240

I found the strongest was thine own.

By the cold breast and serpent smile,

By thy unfathomed gulfs of guile,

By that most seeming virtuous eye,

By thy shut soul's hypocrisy;

By the perfection of thine art

Which passed for human thine own heart;

By thy delight in others' pain,

And by thy brotherhood of Cain,

I call upon thee! and compelav250 Thyself to be thy proper Hell!

And on thy head I pour the vial

Which doth devote thee to this trial;

Nor to slumber, nor to die,

Shall be in thy destiny;

Though thy death shall still seem near

To thy wish, but as a fear;

Lo! the spell now works around thee,

And the clankless chain hath bound thee;

O'er thy heart and brain together260

Hath the word been passed—now wither!