But I have found our thoughts take wildest flight Even at the moment when they should array Themselves in pensive order. _Enter the_ ABBOT. _Abbot_. My good Lord! I crave a second 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 _heart_-- 50 Could I touch _that_, with words or prayers, I should Recall a noble spirit which hath wandered, But is not yet all lost. _Man_. Thou know'st me not; My days are numbered, and my deeds recorded: Retire, or 'twill be dangerous--Away! _Abbot_. Thou dost not mean to menace me? _Man_. Not I! I simply tell thee peril is at hand, And would preserve thee. _Abbot_. What dost thou mean? _Man_. Look there! What dost thou see? _Abbot_. Nothing. _Man_. Look there, I say, And steadfastly;--now tell me what thou seest? 60 _Abbot_. That which should shake me,--but I fear it not: 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:-- 70 What doth he here? _Man_. Why--aye--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[169] Glares forth the immortality of Hell-- Avaunt!-- _Man_. Pronounce--what is thy mission? _Spirit_. Come! _Abbot_. What art thou, unknown being? answer!--speak! 80 _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--Away! I say. _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. 90