Glorious orb![3] the idol Of early nature, and the vigorous race Of undiseased mankind, the giant sons Of the embrace of angels, with a sex More beautiful than they, which did draw down The erring spirits who can ne'er return.-- Most glorious orb! that wert a worship, ere The mystery of thy making was reveal'd! Thou earliest minister of the Almighty, Which gladden'd, on their mountain tops, the hearts Of the Chaldean shepherds, till they pour'd Themselves in orisons! Thou material God! And representative of the Unknown-- Who chose thee for his shadow! Thou chief star! Centre of many stars! which mak'st our earth Endurable, and temperest the hues And hearts of all who walk within thy rays! Sire of the seasons! Monarch of the climes, And those who dwell in them! for, near or far, Our inborn spirits have a tint of thee, Even as our outward aspects;--thou dost rise, And shine, and set in glory. Fare thee well! I ne'er shall see thee more. As my first glance Of love and wonder was for thee, then take My latest look: thou wilt not beam on one To whom the gifts of life and warmth have been Of a more fatal nature. He is gone: I follow. [_Exit_ MANFRED. SCENE II. _The Mountains--The Castle of Manfred at some distance--A Terrace before a Tower--Time, Twilight._ HERMAN, MANUEL, _and other dependants of_ MANFRED. _Her._ 'Tis strange enough; night after night, for years, He hath pursued long vigils in this tower, Without a witness. I have been within it,-- So have we all been oft-times; but from it, Or its contents, it were impossible To draw conclusions absolute of aught His studies tend to. To be sure, there is One chamber where none enter; I would give The fee of what I have to come these three years, To pore upon its mysteries. _Manuel._ 'Twere dangerous; Content thyself with what thou know'st already. _Her._ Ah! Manuel! thou art elderly and wise, And couldst say much; thou hast dwelt within the castle-- How many years is't? _Manuel._ Ere Count Manfred's birth, I served his father, whom he nought resembles. _Her._ There be more sons in like predicament. But wherein do they differ? _Manuel._ I speak not Of features or of form, but mind and habits: Count Sigismund was proud,--but gay and free,-- A warrior and a reveller; he dwelt not With books and solitude, nor made the night A gloomy vigil, but a festal time, Merrier than day; he did not walk the rocks And forests like a wolf, nor turn aside From men and their delights. _Her._ Beshrew the hour, But those were jocund times! I would that such Would visit the old walls again; they look As if they had forgotten them. _Manuel._ These walls Must change their chieftain first. Oh! I have seen Some strange things in these few years.[4]