Haunt the debauchee with dreams, Of the victim of his schemes; Paint her with dishevelled hair, Streaming eyes, and bosom bare, And with aspect pale and sad, As a spectre's from the dead, Weeping o'er her new- born, child, Her name reproached, her fame despoiled: Let her groanings reach his ear, Pierce his heart, and rouse his fear Of the retribution given, To such deeds as his, by Heaven.
IV.
Around the drunkard's tattered couch, Let pale-faced want and misery crouch, His children shivering o'er the hearth, Cheered by no sound of social mirth, Upbraiding, with their timid glances, The author of their sad mischances; And she to whom the holy vow Of the altar bound him, now With sunken eye, and beauty faded, Tresses silvered, brow o'ershaded, Clinging to him fondly still, With a love that mocks each ill, Which would vainly strive to tear Her soul from one who once was dear. Now haste we, each our task to do, Ere the starry hours wane through!
[They fly off, singing as they disappear.
Ere the Morning's rosy wing, Has brushed the damp night-shades away, Ere the birds their matins sing, Choiring to the new-born day, Though its bright birth-hour be near, Many a sigh, and many a tear, Shall attest the mystic might, Of those who walk the world by night.
Werner (solus).
The ruin of the living! if that be Your only task, you have a poor employ. Give man his three score years, and he will make A wreck, the skill of hell might show forth as A sample of its handiwork, and then, Exult at the completeness of its ruin. The troubling of the dead!--if memory lives In that far world, to which the spirit hastens, When she casts off the clay that clogs her wings, E'en there ye are forestalled, for man will need No curse, to make his second life a hell, If be retains the memory of his first. Had the clear waters of this gurgling brook, The pow'r to wash time's blots from th' mind's page, And all earth's mountains were compact of gold, Her rivers nectar, and her oceans wine, Her hills all fruitful, and her valleys fresh, And full of loveliness as Eden was, Ere sin's sad blightfell on its living bow'rs, And all were mine, I'd give them but to lay My weary limbs along this streamlet's bed, And sleep in full forgetfulness awhile. But, I forget my task--now let me to it!
[He takes a vial from his bosom, and flings its contents into the air, chanting,Spirit Wherever be thy home, In earth or air, My message hear, And fear it. By the power which I have earned, To which thy knee has knelt, By the spell which I have learned,A spell which thou, hast felt,I bid thee hither come !
[A white cloud appears in the distance, floating up the glen, and a voice is heard, singing as it approaches,ACT Ii
I.
I saw from port a vessel steer, The skies were clear, the winds were fair, More swiftly than the hunted deer, Upon her snowy wings of air, She flew along the silv'ry water, As fearlessly as if some sprite, Familiar with the deep, had taught her, A spell by which to rule the might Of winds and waves, when met to try Their strength, up midway in the sky.
II.
Along her trackless watery way, With unabated speed she flew, Still gay and careless, till the day Waned past: night came: the heavens grew Black, dread and threat'ning. Then the storm Came forth in its devouring wrath; Before it fled Fear's pallid form; Destruction followed in its path; It passed: the morning came: in vain, I look for that lost bark again.
III.
Far down beneath the deep blue waves, Within some merman's coral hall, Her fated crew have found their graves; Above them, for their burial pall, The mermaids spread their flowing tresses; The waters chant their requiem; From many an eyelid, Pity presses Her tender, dewy tears for them: The natives of the ocean weep, To view them sleeping death's pale sleep.
IV.
Thou, mortal, wast the bark I saw; The waters, were the sea of life; And thou, alas! too well dost know, What storms were imaged in the strife Of winds and waves. The hopes of youth, Thou, in that bark's lost crew, may'st see,-- All buried now within that smooth, Vast, boundless deep,-- eternity:-- And I, a spirit though I be, Can pity still, and weep for thee.
[The cloud settles near the fountain, and, unclosing, discovers a beautiful form looking steadily at Werner.
WERNER (addressing it).
How beautiful! If intercourse between all living worlds, Had not been barr'd by Him who gave them life, I should believe thou wert the guardian spirit, Of that which men have named the Queen of Night. Like her, thou art majestic, pale and sad, And of a tender beauty: those bright curls That press thy brow, and cling about thy neck, Seem made of sunbeams, caught upon their way To earth, by some creative hand, and woven Into a fairy web, of light and life, Conscious of its high source, and proud to be A part of aught so beautiful as thou. I have seen many full, bright mortal eyes, That were a labyrinth of witching charms, In which the heart of him who looked was lost; But none like thine; their light is not of earth; Their loveliness not like what man calls lovely. Beside the smoothness of thy brow and cheek, The lily's lip were rough; each of thy limbs, Is, in itself, a being and a beauty. If that the orb thou didst inhabit, ere Thou wert a portion of eternity, Was worthy of such dwellers, oh! how fair And glorious, must have been its fields and bow'rs! How clear its streams! how pure and fresh its airs! How mellow were its fruits! how bright its flow'rs! How strong and brave the beings, fit to share It with thee! 'Tis most strange that He, whose hand Fashions such wondrous things, should take delight In striking them to nothingness again! Perchance the author of all evil had Invaded it, and made it quite unfit To be a part of God's great universe. And yet thou lookest as if thou wert beyond The power of temptation to assail. Hast thou too sinned?
Spirit.
I have lived as thou livest, died as thou Wilt have to die, and am whatthou shalt be.
Werner
