Re-enter HERMAN.

Her. My lord, you bade me wait on you at sunset:  He sinks behind the mountain.

Man. Doth he so?  I will look on him.

[MANFRED advances to the window of the hall.

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.