Alike made difficult; but I have such Of the first, as shall make the second needless. Bar. But you will move by law? 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? 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 I could as blindly and remorselessly!— Lo, where he comes !-Be still, my heart! they are 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. 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 Jac. Fos. And his son's. I'm faint; Let me approach, I pray you, for a breath 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 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 And, masqued as a young gondolier, amidst Raced for our pleasure, in the pride of strength; i. In this brief colloquy, and must redeem it.—[MS. M.] 1. [Compare 'And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy 100 ΙΙΟ Childe Harold, Canto IV. stanza clxxxiv. lines 1-4, Returning with my grasp full of such tokens 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! Which howled about my Candiote dungeon,1 and 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. Confess, I confessed Once-twice before: both times they exiled me. 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— 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- 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. |