“And on thy head I pour the vial Which doth devote thee to this trial; Not 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 together Hath the word been passed—now wither!” The Italian poem forms, in its first and second parts, a drama as complete as that of “Manfred,” and, as I hope to render clear, one more consistent to the leading idea, or, as critics were wont to say, “more coherent in the unities.” This idea in the one, as in the other, is that of a powerful _sorcerer_ assailed by a fiend in the form of remorse, and that with the most aggravating and insulting terms of contempt. In “Manfred” the persecutor tells his victim that he shall be his own hell, for that of all poisons his own evil heart is the worst. The Italian, more direct and less metaphysical still, alludes, in the accusation by the spirit, to no other punishment save that of conscience, and declares the magician to be poisoned through and through in himself: “Tu sei cattivo e scelerato, Tu sei avvelenato Nel cuore e nell anima,” and bids him go forth to be for ever pursued by the avenger. Byron’s poem is entirely based on sorcery, and is intended to set forth the tremendous mental struggles of a mind which has risen above mankind with supernatural power, which assails him with remorse. In the first place he simply goes to sleep; in the grand finale he resists, like Don Juan, or, as the saying is, “dies game”—“only this, and nothing more”—leaving all idea of an end, object, moral, or system, entirely in the dark. “Manfred” is merely dramatic for the sake of _stage effect_, and only excellent in impressing us with the artistic skill of the author. Its key is art for the sake of art, and effect on anybody, no matter who. Within this limit it is most admirable.