Alike made difficult; but I have such

Of the first, as shall make the second needless.

Bar. But you will move by law?
Lor.

Which he would leave us.

Bar.

By all the laws

They are such in this

Our state as render retribution easier

Than 'mongst remoter nations. Is it true

That you have written in your books of commerce,

(The wealthy practice of our highest nobles)

Doge Foscari, my debtor for the deaths

Of Marco and Pietro Loredano,

My sire and uncle?”1

Lor.

50

It is written thus.

Till balanced.

Bar. And will you leave it unerased?
Lor.

Bar. And how?

[Two Senators pass over the stage, as in their way to "the Hall of the Council of Ten."

Lor.

Follow me.

You see the number is complete. [Exit LOREDANO. Bar. (solus). Follow thee! I have followed long Thy path of desolation, as the wave

Sweeps after that before it, alike whelming.

The wreck that creaks to the wild winds, and wretch

Who shrieks within its riven ribs, as gush

The waters through them; but this son and sire
Might move the elements to pause, and yet
Must I on hardily like them-Oh! would

I could as blindly and remorselessly!—

Lo, where he comes !-Be still, my heart! they are
Thy foes, must be thy victims: wilt thou beat

For those who almost broke thee?

i.

checked by nought

The vessel that creaks —.—[MS. M. erased.]

60

1. [Daru gives Palazzi's Fasti Ducales and L'Histoire Vénitienne of Vianolo as his authorities for this story.]

Enter Guards, with young FOSCARI as Prisoner, etc.

Guard.

some pity, but no

And might be the last, did they Who rule behold us.

70

Bar. (advancing to the Guard). There is one who does : Yet fear not; I will neither be thy judge

Nor thy accuser; though the hour is past,

Wait their last summons-I am of "the Ten," 1

And waiting for that summons, sanction you

Even by my presence: when the last call sounds,

We'll in together.-Look well to the prisoner !

Jac. Fos. What voice is that?'Tis Barbarigo's! Ah!

Our House's foe, and one of my few judges.
Bar. To balance such a foe, if such there be,
Thy father sits amongst thy judges.

Jac. Fos.

He judges.

Bar.

True,

Then deem not the laws too harsh

Which yield so much indulgence to a sire,

As to allow his voice in such high matter
As the state's safety-

Jac. Fos.

And his son's. I'm faint;

Let me approach, I pray you, for a breath
Of air, yon window which o'erlooks the waters.

i. · much pity.—[MS. M. erased.]

80

1. ["This whole episode in the private life of the Foscari family is valuable chiefly for the light it throws upon the internal history of Venice. We are clearly in an atmosphere unknown before. The Council of Ten is all-powerful; it even usurps functions which do not belong to it by the constitution. The air is charged with plots, suspicion, assassination, denunciation, spies,-all the paraphernalia which went to confirm the popular legend as to the terrible nature of the Dieci."-Venice, etc., by Horatio F. Brown, 1893, p. 305.]

Enter an Officer, who whispers Barbarigo.

Bar. (to the Guard). Let him approach. I must not

speak with him

Further than thus: I have transgressed my duty

In this brief parley, and must now redeem it1
Within the Council Chamber.

90

[Exit BARBARIGO. [Guard conducting JACOPO FOSCARI to the window.

Guard.

There, sir, 'tis

Open.-How feel you?

Jac. Fos.

Like a boy-Oh Venice!

Limbs! how often have they borne me1

Guard. And your limbs?

Jac. Fos.

Bounding o'er yon blue tide, as I have skimmed
The gondola along in childish race,

And, masqued as a young gondolier, amidst
My gay competitors, noble as I,

Raced for our pleasure, in the pride of strength;
While the fair populace of crowding beauties,
Plebeian as patrician, cheered us on
With dazzling smiles, and wishes audible,
And waving kerchiefs, and applauding hands,
Even to the goal!-How many a time have I
Cloven with arm still lustier, breast more daring,
The wave all roughened; with a swimmer's stroke
Flinging the billows back from my drenched hair,
And laughing from my lip the audacious brine,
Which kissed it like a wine-cup, rising o'er
The waves as they arose, and prouder still
The loftier they uplifted me; and oft,
In wantonness of spirit, plunging down
Into their green and glassy gulfs, and making
My way to shells and sea-weed, all unseen
By those above, till they waxed fearful; then

i. In this brief colloquy, and must redeem it.—[MS. M.] 1. [Compare

'And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy
I wantoned with thy breakers."

100

ΙΙΟ

Childe Harold, Canto IV. stanza clxxxiv. lines 1-4,
Poetical Works, 1899, ii. 461, note 2.]

Returning with my grasp full of such tokens
As showed that I had searched the deep: exulting,
With a far-dashing stroke, and, drawing deep
The long-suspended breath, again I spurned
The foam which broke around me, and pursued
My track like a sea-bird.—I was a boy then.

I 20

Guard. Be a man now: there never was more need Of manhood's strength.

Jac. Fos. (looking from the lattice). My beautiful, my

own,

My only Venice-this is breath! Thy breeze,

Thine Adrian sea-breeze, how it fans my face!
Thy very winds feel native to my veins,
And cool them into calmness! How unlike
The hot gales of the horrid Cyclades,

Which howled about my Candiote dungeon,1 and
Made my heart sick.

i.

130

Guard. I see the colour comes Back to your cheek: Heaven send you strength to bear What more may be imposed !-I dread to think on't. Jac. Fos. They will not banish me again ?-No-no, Let them wring on; I am strong yet.

Guard.

And the rack will be spared you.
Jac. Fos.

Confess,

I confessed

Once-twice before: both times they exiled me.
Guard. And the third time will slay you.
Jac. Fos.

So I be buried in my birth-place: better

Let them do so,

Be ashes here than aught that lives elsewhere.

Guard. And can you so much love the soil which

hates you?

140

Jac. Fos. The soil!-Oh no, it is the seed of the soil Which persecutes me: but my native earth Will take me as a mother to her arms.

I ask no more than a Venetian grave,

A dungeon, what they will, so it be here.

i. I see your colour comes.-[MS. M.]

L. [The climate of Crete is genial and healthy; but the town of Candia is exposed to winds from the north and north-west.]

Enter an Officer.

Offi. Bring in the prisoner!

Guard.

Signor, you hear the order. Jac. Fos. Aye, I am used to such a summons; 'tis The third time they have tortured me :-then lend me

Thine arm.

Offi.

[To the Guard.

Take mine, sir; 'tis my duty to

Be nearest to your person.

Jac. Fos.

Who yesterday presided o'er my pangs—
Away!—I'll walk alone.

Offi.

You! you are he

150

As you please, Signor;

The sentence was not of my signing, but

I dared not disobey the Council when

They

Jac. Fos. Bade thee stretch me on their horrid engine.

I pray thee touch me not—that is, just now;

The time will come they will renew that order,

But keep off from me till 'tis issued. As

I look upon thy hands my curdling limbs

Quiver with the anticipated wrenching,

And the cold drops strain through my brow, as if-
But onward-I have borne it-I can bear it.-

How looks my father?

Offi.

With his wonted aspect.

160

Jac. Fos. So does the earth, and sky, the blue of

Ocean,

The brightness of our city, and her domes,

The mirth of her Piazza-even now

Its merry hum of nations pierces here,

Even here, into these chambers of the unknown

Who govern, and the unknown and the unnumbered

Judged and destroyed in silence,-all things wear 170 The self-same aspect, to my very sire!

Nothing can sympathise with Foscari,

Not even a Foscari.-Sir, I attend you.

[Exeunt JACOPO FOSCARI, Officer, etc.