My life is in its last hour . . . .
——————farewell, ye opening heavens!
Look not upon me thus reproachfully—
Ye were not meant for me—earth! take these atoms!
Manfred.
I.
The sun was sinking from soft Hella’s shore,
Yet lingering still, as if he loved to pour
His beams o’er towers and temples then sublime,
But mouldering now beneath the tooth of Time;