VENICE.

THE PALACE OF THE FOSCARI.

Despair defies even despotism: there is

That in my heart would make its way through hosts
With levell'd spears; and think you a few jailors
Shall put me from my path? Give me, then, way;
This is the Doge's palace.

THE TWO FOSCARI.

THE fatal history of the Foscari, whose palace is represented in the plate, is told by the old Venetian writers, and more particularly by Sanuto, whose relation has been followed by M. de Sismondi, in his admirable Histoire des Republiques Italiennes, and by M. Daru, in his valuable Histoire de la Republique de Venise. Though every English reader is acquainted with it through the drama of Lord Byron, it will not, perhaps, be thought improper to give in this place an outline of the story.

Francesco Foscari, at the age of fifty-one, attained the summit of a Venetian's ambition, and was elected doge. A noble name, rendered still more splendid by the services which he who bore it had performed to the republic, favouring fortunes, an undaunted courage, and a family of sons who seemed to inherit the lofty spirit of their father, rendered the newly elected doge an object of jealousy to the nobility of Venice. The first blow to