More near from out the Cæsars' palace came
The owl's long cry, and, interruptedly,
Of distant sentinels the fitful song
Begun and died upon the gentle wind.
Some cypresses beyond the time-worn breach
Appear'd to skirt the horizon, yet they stood
Within a bowshot-Where the Cæsars dwelt,
And dwell the tuneless birds of night, amidst
A grove which springs through levell'd battlements,
And twines its roots with the imperial hearths,
Ivy usurps the laurel's place of growth;-
But the gladiators' bloody Circus stands,
A noble wreck in ruinous perfection!

While Cæsar's chambers, and the Augustan halls,
Grovel on earth in indistinct decay.-

And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, upon

All this, and cast a wide and tender light,
Which soften'd down the hoar austerity
Of rugged desolation, and fill'd up,
As 'twere anew, the gaps of centuries;
Leaving that beautiful which still was so,
And making that which was not, till the place
Became religion, and the heart ran o'er
With silent worship of the great of old!

The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule
Our spirits from their urns.—

"Twas such a night!

'Tis strange that I recall it at this time;

But I have found our thoughts take wildest flight Even at the moment when they should array Themselves in pensive order.

Abbot.

I crave a second

Enter the ABBOT.

My good lord!

grace for this approach ;
But yet let not my humble zeal offend
By its abruptness-all it hath of ill
Recoils on me; its good in the effect

May light upon your head-could I say heartCould I touch that, with words or prayers, I should Recall a noble spirit which hath wander'd;

But is not yet all lost.

Man.

Thou know'st me not;

deeds recorded:

My days are number'd, and my

Retire, or 'twill be dangerous-Away!

Abbot. Thou dost not mean to menace me?

And steadfastly;-now tell me what thou seest?

Abbot. That which should shake me,-but I fear

I see a dusk and awful figure rise,

Like an infernal god, from out the earth;

His face wrapt in a mantle, and his form

Robed as with angry clouds: he stands between
Thyself and me-but I do fear him not.

Man. Thou hast no cause he shall not harm

thee-but

His sight may shock thine old limbs into palsy.
I say to thee-Retire!

Abbot.

And I reply

Never-till I have battled with this fiend:

What doth he here?

Man.

Why-ay-what doth he here?—

I did not send for him, he is unbidden.

Abbot. Alas! lost mortal! what with guests like these

Hast thou to do? I tremble for thy sake:
Why doth he gaze on thee, and thou on him?
Ah! he unveils his aspect: on his brow
The thunder-scars are graven; from his eye
Glares forth the immortality of hell-

Avaunt!

Man. Pronounce-what is thy mission?
Spirit.

Come!

Abbot. What art thou, unknown being? answer!— speak!

Spirit. The genius of this mortal.-Come! 'tis time.

Man. I am prepared for all things, but deny
The power which summons me. Who sent thee here?
Spirit. Thou 'lt know anon-Come! come!
Man.
I have commanded

Things of an essence greater far than thine,
And striven with thy masters. Get thee hence!
Spirit. Mortal! thine hour is come

I say.

Away!

Man. I knew, and know my hour is come, but not

To render up my soul to such as thee:

Away! I'll die as I have lived-alone.

Spirit. Then I must summon up my brethren. [Other Spirits rise up.

Rise! Abbot. Avaunt! ye evil ones!-Avaunt! I say,Ye have no power where piety hath power,

And I do charge ye in the name

Spirit.

Old man!

We know ourselves, our mission, and thine order;
Waste not thy holy words on idle uses,

It were in vain: this man is forfeited.
Once more I summon him-Away! away!
Man. I do defy ye,-though I feel my soul
Is ebbing from me, yet I do defy ye;

Nor will I hence, while I have earthly breath
To breathe my scorn upon ye-earthly strength
To wrestle, though with spirits; what ye take
Shall be ta'en limb by limb.

Spirit.

Reluctant mortal!

Is this the Magian who would so pervade
The world invisible, and make himself
Almost our equal?—Can it be that thou
Art thus in love with life? the
very life

Which made thee wretched!

Man. Thou false fiend, thou liest! My life is in its last hour,—that I know, Nor would redeem a moment of that hour; I do not combat against death, but thee And thy surrounding angels; my past power Was purchased by no compact with thy crew, But by superior science-penance- daring— And length of watching-strength of mind—and skill

F 3

In knowledge of our fathers-when the earth
Saw men and spirits walking side by side,
And gave ye no supremacy: I stand
Upon my strength-I do defy-deny-
Spurn back, and scorn ye!—

Spirit.

Have made thee

But thy many crimes

Man.
What are they to such as thee?
Must crimes be punish'd but by other crimes,
And greater criminals?— Back to thy hell!
Thou hast no power upon me, that I feel;
Thou never shalt possess me, that I know:
What I have done is done; I bear within
A torture which could nothing gain from thine:
The mind which is immortal makes itself
Requital for its good or evil thoughts-
Is its own origin of ill and end-

And its own place and time-its innate sense,
When stripp'd of this mortality, derives
No colour from the fleeting things without;
But is absorb'd in sufferance or in joy,

Born from the knowledge of its own desert.

Thou didst not tempt me, and thou couldst not tempt me;

I have not been thy dupe, nor am thy prey—
But was my own destroyer, and will be
My own hereafter.- Back, ye baffled fiends!
The hand of death is on me but not yours!

[The Demons disappear.

Abbot. Alas! how pale thou art — thy lips are

white

And thy breast heaves-and in thy gasping throat