The works of lord Byron

The guilty saved hath damn'd his hundred judges,

And he is pure, for now his crime is theirs. Ang. Oh! had this false and flippant libeller

Shed his young blood for his absurd lampoon,

Ne'er from that moment could this breast have known

A joyous hour, or dreamless slumber more. Doge. Does not the law of Heaven say blood for blood?

And he who taints kills more than he who sheds it.

Is it the pain of blows, or shame of blows, That makes such deadly to the sense of man? Do not the laws of man say blood for honour? And less than honour for a little gold? Say not the laws of nations blood for treason? Is 't nothing to have fill'd these veins with poison

For their once healthful current? is it nothing

To have stain'd your name and mine- the

noblest names?

Is 't nothing to have brought into contempt
A prince before his people? to have fail'd
In the respect accorded by mankind
To youth in woman, and old age in man?
To virtue in your sex, and dignity
In ours? But let them look to it who have
saved him.

Ang. Heaven bids us to forgive our

enemies.

Doge. Doth Heaven forgive her own? Is Satan saved

From wrath eternal?

Ang. Do not speak thus wildly— Heaven will alike forgive you and your focs.

Doge. Amen! May Heaven forgive them.
Ang. And will you?

Doge. Yes, when they are in Heaven!
Ang. And not till then?

Doge. What matters my forgiveness? an
old man's,

Worn out, scorn'd, spurn'd, abused; what matters then

My pardon more than my resentment? both Being weak and worthless? I have lived too long.

But let us change the argument.—My child! My injured wife, the child of Loredano, The brave, the chivalrous, how little deem'd Thy father, wedding thee unto his friend, That he was linking thee to shame!-Alas! Shame without sin, for thou art faultless. Hadst thou

But had a different husband, any husband In Venice save the Doge, this blight, this brand,

This blasphemy had never fallen upon thee. So young, so beautiful, so good, so pure, To suffer this, and yet be unavenged!

Ang. 1 am too well avenged, for you

still love me,

With his last malady, he will'd our union,
It was not to repay me, long repaid
Before by his great loyalty in friendship;
His object was to place your orphan beauty
In honourable safety from the perils
Which, in this scorpion-nest of vice, assail
A lonely and undower'd maid. I did not
Think with him, but would not oppose the
thought

Which soothed his death-bed.
Ang. I have not forgotten
The nobleness with which you bade me
speak

If my young heart held any preference Which would have made me happier; nor your offer

To make my dowry equal to the rank Of anght in Venice, and forego all claim My father's last injunction gave you. Doge. Thus,

'Twas not a foolish dotard's vile caprice,

Your father's choice.

Ang. I did so; I would do so

In face of earth and heaven; for I have never
Repented for my sake; sometimes for yours,
In pondering o'er your late disquietudes.
Doge. I knew my heart would never
treat you harshly;

I knew my days could not disturb you long;
And then the daughter of my earliest friend,
His worthy daughter, free to choose again,
Wealthier and wiser, in the ripest bloom
Of womanhood, more skilful to select
By passing these probationary years;
Inheriting a prince's name and riches;
Secured, by the short penance of enduring
An old man for some summers, against all
That law's chicane or envious kinsmen
might

Have urged against her right;—my best
friend's child

Would choose more fitly in respect of years,
And not less truly in a faithful heart.
Ang. My lord, I look'd but to my father's
wishes,

Hallow'd by his last words, and to my heart
For doing all its duties, and replying
With faith to him with whom I was affianced.
Ambitious hopes ne'er cross'd my dreams;

and should

The hour you speak of come,it will be seen so. Doge. I do believe you; and I know you true:

For love, romantic love, which in my youth
I knew to be illusion, and ne'er saw
Lasting, but often fatal, it had been
No lure for me, in my most passionate days,
And could not be so now, did such exist.
But such respect, and mildly paid regard
As a true feeling for your welfare, and
A free compliance with all honest wishes;
A kindness to your virtues, watchfulness
Not shown, but shadowing o'er such little
failings

As youth is apt in, so as not to check
Rashly, but win you from them ere you knew
You had been won, but thought the change
your choice;

A pride not in your beauty, but your

conduct,―

A trust in you-a patriarchal love,
And not a doting homage friendship, faith-
Such estimation in your eyes as these
Might claim, I hoped for.

Ang. And have ever had.

Doge. I think so. For the difference in our years,

You knew it, choosing me, and chose: I trusted

Not to my qualities, nor would have faith
In such, nor outward ornaments of nature,
Were I still in my five-and-twentieth spring:
I trusted to the blood of Loredano
Pure in your veins; I trusted to the soul
God gave you to the truths your father
taught you-

To your belief in heaven-to your mild virtues

To your own faith and honour, for my own. Ang. You have done well.-I thank you for that trust,

Which I

have never for one moment ceased To honour you the more for. Doge. Where is honour, Innate and precept-strengthen'd, 'tis the rock Of faith connubial; where it is not-where Light thoughts are lurking, or the vanities Of worldly pleasure rankle in the heart, Or sensual throbs convulse it, well I know Twere hopeless for humanity to dream Of honesty in such infected blood, Although 'twere wed to him it covets most: An incarnation of the poet's god In all his marble-chisell'd beauty, or The demi-deity, Alcides, in

His majesty of superhuman manhood, Would not suffice to bind where virtue is not; It is consistency which forms and proves it: Vice cannot fix, and virtue cannot change. The once fall'n woman must for ever fall; For vice must have variety, while virtue Stands like the sun, and all which rolls around

Drinks life, and light, and glory from her aspect.

Ang. And seeing, feeling thus this truth

in others,

(I pray you pardon me;) but wherefore yield you

To the most fierce of fatal passions, and Disquiet your great thoughts with restless

hate

Of such a thing as Steno?

Doge. You mistake me.

It is not Steno who could move me thus ; Had it been so, he should- but let that pass. Ang. What is 't you feel so deeply, then, even now?

Doge. The violated majesty of Venice, At once insulted in her lord and laws. Ang. Alas! why will you thus consider it? Doge. I have thought on 't till-but let

me lead you back To what I urged; all these things being noted, I wedded you; the world then did me justice

Upon the motive, and my conduct proved | And the soul's labour through which I They did me right, while yours was all

to praise:

You had all freedom-all respect - all trust From me and mine; and, born of those who made

Princes at home, and swept kings from their thrones

On foreign shores, in all things you appear'd
Worthy to be our first of native dames.
Ang. To what does this conduct?
Doge. To thus much-that

A miscreant's angry breath may blast it all -
A villain, whom for his unbridled bearing,
Even in the midst of our great festival,
I caused to be conducted forth, and taught
How to demean himself in ducal chambers;
A wretch like this may leave upon the wall
The blighting venom of his sweltering heart,
And this shall spread itself in general poison;
And woman's innocence, man's honour, pass
Into a by-word; and the doubly felon
(Who first insulted virgin modesty
By a gross affront to your attendant damsels,
Amidst the noblest of our dames in public)
Requite himself for his most just expulsion,
By blackening publicly his sovereign's
consort,

And be absolved by his upright compeers. Ang. But he has been condemn'd into captivity.

Doge. For such as him a dungeon were acquittal;

And his brief term of mock-arrest will pass Within a palace. But I've done with him; The rest must be with you.

Ang. With me, my lord?

Doge. Yes, Angiolina. Do not marvel; I Have let this prey upon me till I feel My life cannot be long; and fain would

have you

Regard the injunctions you will find within This scroll. (Giving her a paper) - Fear not; they are for your advantage: Read them hereafter, at the fitting hour. Ang. My lord, in life, and after life, you shall

Be honour'd still by me: but may your days Be many yet-and happier than the present! This passion will give way, and you will be Serene, and what you should be-what you were.

Doge. I will be what I should be, or be

nothing;

But never more-oh! never, never more, O'er the few days or hours which yet await The blighted old age of Faliero, shall Sweet Quiet shed her sunset! Never more Those summer-shadows rising from the past Of a not ill-spent nor inglorious life, Mellowing the last hours as the night approaches,

Shall soothe me to my moment of long rest. I had but little more to task, or hope, Save the regards due to the blood and sweat,

had toil'd

To make my country honour'd. As her

servant

Her servant, though her chief - I would have gone

Down to my fathers with a name serene And pure as theirs; but this has been denied

me.

Would I had died at Zara!

Ang. There you saved

The state; then live to save her still. A day, Another day like that would be the best Reproof to them and sole revenge for you. Doge. But one such day occurs within

an age;

My life is little less than one, and 'tis Enough for Fortune to have granted once, That which scarce one more favour'd citizen May win in many states and years. But why Thus speak I? Venice has forgot that day Then why should I remember it? Farewell, Sweet Angiolina! I must to my cabinet; There's much for me to do-and the hour hastens.

Ang. Remember what you were. Doge. It were in vain! Joy's recollection is no longer joy, While Sorrow's memory is a sorrow still. Ang. At least, whate'er may urge, let

me implore

When I am nothing, let that which I was | For a fit time-that hour is on the dial,

Be still sometimes a name on thy sweet lips,
A shadow in thy fancy, of a thing
Which would not have thee mourn it, but
remember ;-

Let us begone,my child_the time is pressing.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.-A retired Spot near the Arsenal.
ISRAEL BERTUCCIO and PHILIP CALENDARO.
Calendaro. How sped you, Israel, in
your late complaint?
Bert. Why, well.

Cal. Is't possible! will he be punish'd?
Bert. Yes.

Cal. With what? a mulet or an arrest?
Bert. With death!-

Cal. Now you rave,or must intend revenge,
Such as I counsell'd you, with your own

hand.

Bert. Yes; and for one sole draught of

hate, forego

The great redress we meditate for Venice,
And change a life of hope for one of exile;
Leaving one scorpion crush'd, and thousands
stinging

My friends, my family, my countrymen!
No, Calendaro; these same drops of blood,
Shed shamefully, shall have the whole of his
For their requital– But not only his;
We will not strike for private wrongs alone:
Such are for selfish passions and rash men,
But are unworthy a tyrannicide.

Cal. You have more patience than I care
to boast.

Had I been present when you bore this insult,
I must have slain him, or expired myself
In the vain effort to repress my wrath.
Bert. Thank Heaven, you were not-
all had else been marr'd:

As 'tis, our cause looks prosperous still.
Cal. You saw

The Doge-what answer gave he?
Bert. That there was

No punishment for such as Barbaro.

It may be of to-morrow's sun: delay
Beyond may breed us double danger. See
That all be punctual at our place of meeting,
And arm'd, excepting those of the Sixteen,
Who will remain among the troops to wait
The signal.

Cal.

These brave words have breathed
new life

Into my veins; I am sick of these protracted
And hesitating councils: day on day
Crawl'd on, and added but another link
To our long fetters, and some fresher wrong
Inflicted on our brethren or ourselves,
Helping to swell our tyrants' bloated

strength.

Let us but deal upon them, and I care not
For the result, which must be death or
freedom!

I'm weary to the heart of finding neither.
Bert. We will be free in life or death!

Cal. Itold you so before,and that 'twas idle Turn sick at sight of blood, although a

To think of justice from such hands.

Bert. At least,

It lull'd suspicion, showing confidence.
Had I been silent, not a Sbirro but
Had kept me in his eye, as meditating
A silent, solitary, deep revenge.
Cal. But wherefore not adress you to
the Council?

The Doge is a mere puppet, who can scarce
Obtain right for himself. Why speak to him?
Bert. You shall know that hereafter.
Cal. Why not now?

Bert. Be patient but till midnight. Get
your musters,

And bid your friends prepare their com

panies:

Set all in readiness to strike the blow,
Perhaps in a few hours; we have long waited

We must forget all feelings save the oneWe must resign all passions save

purpose

our

We must behold no object save our country-
And only look on death as beautiful,
So that the sacrifice ascend to heaven,
And draw down freedom on her evermore.
Cal. But, if we fail?-

Bert. They never fail who die In a great cause: the block may soak their gore;

Their heads may sodden in the sun; their limbs

Be strung to city-gates and castle-wallsBut still their spirit walks abroad. Though years

Elapse, and others share as dark a doom, They but augment the deep and sweeping thoughts

Which o'erpower all others, and conduct
The world at last to freedom: What were we,
If Brutus had not lived? He died in giving
Rome liberty, but left a deathless lesson
A name which is a virtue, and a soul
Which multiplies itself throughout all time,
When wicked men wax mighty, and a state
Turns servile: he and his high friend were
styled

"The last of Romans!" Let us be the first
Of true Venetians, sprung from Roman sires.
Cal. Our fathers did not fly from Attila
Into these isles, where palaces have sprung
On banks redeem'd from the rude ocean's

ooze,

To own a thousand despots in his place. Better bow down before the Hun, and call A Tartar lord, than these swoln silkworms masters!

The first at least was man, and used his sword As sceptre: these unmanly creeping things Command our swords, and rule us with a word

As with a spell.

Bert. It shall he broken soon.
You say that all things are in readiness;
To-day I have not been the usual round,
And why thou knowest; but thy vigilance
Will better have supplied my care: these
orders

In recent council, to redouble now
Our efforts to repair the galleys, have
Lent a fair colour to the introduction
Of many of our cause into the arsenal,
As new artificers for their equipment,
Or fresh recruits obtain'd in haste to man
The hoped-for fleet.-Are all supplied with
arms?

Cal. All who were deem'd trustworthy;

there are some

Bert. You have said well.-Have you remark'd all such?

Cal. I've noted most; and caused the other chiefs

To use like caution in their companies.
As far as I have seen, we are enough
To make the enterprise secure, if 'tis
Commenced to-morrow; but; till 'tis begun,
Each hour is pregnant with a thousand perils.
Bert. Let the Sixteen meet at the wonted

hour,

Except Soranzo, Nicoletto Blondo,
And Marco Giuda, who will keep their watch
Within the arsenal, and hold all ready,
Expectant of the signal we will fix on.
Cal. We will not fail.

Bert. Let all the rest be there;

I have a stranger to present to them.
Cal. A stranger! doth he know the secret?
Bert. Yes.

Cal. And have you dared to peril your

friends' lives

On a rash confidence in one we know not? Bert. I have risk'd no man's life except

my own

Of that be certain: he is one who may
Make our assurance doubly sure, according
His aid; and, if reluctant, he no less
Is in our power: he comes alone with me,
And cannot 'scape us ; but he will not swerve.
Cal. I cannot judge of this until I know him:
Is he one of our order?

Bert. Ay, in spirit,

Although a child of greatness; he is one Who would become a throne, or overthrow

one

One who has done great deeds, and seen

great changes;

No tyrant, though bred up to tyranny;
Valiant in war, and sage in council; noble
In nature, although haughty; quick, yet
wary:

Yet for all this, so full of certain passions.
That if once stirr'd and baffled, as he has been
Upon the tenderest points, there is no Fury
In Grecian story like to that which wrings
His vitals with her burning hands, till he
Grows capable of all things for revenge;
And add too, that his mind is liberal;
He sees and feels the people are oppress'd,
And shares their sufferings. Take him all
in all,

We have need of such, and such have need of us.

Cal.

And what part would you have him
take with us?

Bert. It may be, that of Chief.
Cal. What! and resign

Your own command as leader?
Bert. Even so.

My object is to make your cause end well. And not to push myself to power. Experience,

Some skill, and your own choice, bad

mark'd me out

« Anterior Continuar »

Libros