failure, he as usual hurried to the press, without deigning to woo, or
wait for, a happier moment of inspiration,--his frank docility in, at
once, surrendering up his third Act to reprobation, without urging one
parental word in its behalf,--the doubt he evidently felt, whether, from
his habit of striking off these creations at a heat, he should be able
to rekindle his imagination on the subject,--and then, lastly, the
complete success with which, when his mind _did_ make the spring, he at
once cleared the whole space by which he before fell short of
perfection,--all these circumstances, connected with the production of
this grand poem, lay open to us features, both of his disposition and
genius, in the highest degree interesting, and such as there is a
pleasure, second only to that of perusing the poem itself, in
contemplating.

As a literary curiosity, and, still more, as a lesson to genius, never
to rest satisfied with imperfection or mediocrity, but to labour on till
even failures are converted into triumphs, I shall here transcribe the
third Act, in its original shape, as first sent to the publisher:--

ACT III.--SCENE I.

A Hall in the Castle of Manfred.

MANFRED and HERMAN.

_Man._ What is the hour?

_Her._ It wants but one till sunset,
And promises a lovely twilight.