The Works of Lord Byron

Vine. My lord, I will deliver your reply; It cannot much import-he's a plebeian, The master of a galley, I believe.

Doge. How did you say the patron of a galley?

That is I mean-a servant of the state:
Admit him, he may be on public service.
[Exit Vincenzo.
Doge (solus). This patron may be sounded;
I will try him.

I know the people to be discontented; They have cause, since Sapienza's adverse day,

When Genoa conquer'd: they have further

cause,

Since they are nothing in the state, and in The city worse than nothing-mere ma. chines,

To serve the nobles' most patrician pleasure. | The troops have long arrears of pay, oft promised,

And murmur deeply- any hope of change Will draw them forward: they shall pay themselves

Of least respect and interest in Venice.
You must address the council.
Bert. Twere in vain;

For he who injured me is one of them. Doge. There's blood upon thy face--how came it there?

Bert. 'Tis mine, and not the first I've shed for Venice,

But the first shed by a Venetian hand:
A noble smote me.

Doge. Doth he live?
Bert. Not long-

But for the hope I had and have. that you,
My prince, yourself a soldier, will redress
Him, whom the laws of discipline and Venice
Permit not to protect himself; if not-
I say no more.

Doge. But something you would doIs it not so?

Bert. I am a man, my lord.

Doge. Why, so is he who smote you. Bert. He is call'd so;

Nay, more, a noble one—at least, in Venice: But since he hath forgotten that I am one, With plunder:-but the priests—I doubt|And treats me like a brute, the brute may

The whole must be extinguish'd ;—better that

They ne'er had been, than drag me on to be The thing these arch-oppressors fain would make me.

Let me consider-of efficient troops
There are three thousand posted at-

Enter VINCENZO and ISRAEL BERTUCCIO.

Vine. May it please

turn

'Tis said the worm will.

Doge. Say his name and lineage?
Bert. Barbaro.

Doge. What was the cause? or the pretext?
Bert. I am the chief of the arsenal,

employ'd

At present in repairing certain galleys
But roughly used by the Genoese last year.
This morning comes the noble Barbaro
Full of reproof, because our artisans
Had left some frivolous order of his house,
To execute the state's decree; I dared
To justify the men-he raised his hand,
Behold my blood! the first time it e'er flow'd
Dishonourably.

Doge. Have you long time served ?
Bert. So long as to remember Zara's siege,
And fight beneath the chief who beat the
Huns there,

Sometime my general, now the Doge Faliero. Doge. How are we comrades?- the

state's ducal robes

Sit newly on me, and you were appointed Chief of the arsenal ere I came from Rome; So that I recognised you not. Who placed you? Bert. The late Doge; keeping still my

old command

As patron of a galley: my new office

Your highness, the same patron whom I Was given as the reward of certain scars

spake of

Is here to crave your patience.

Doge. Leave the chamber,

Vincenzo.

[Exit Vincenzo.

the twain

(So was your predecessor pleased to say):
I little thought his bounty would conduct me
To his successor as a helpless plaintiff,
At least, in such a cause.

Doge. Are you much hurt?

Bert. Irreparably in my self-esteem. Doge. Speak out; fear nothing: being stung at heart,

Doge. Alas! my friend, you seek it of What would you do to be revenged on this

man?

The Doge of Venice, and I cannot give it;
I cannot even obtain it-'twas denied
To me most solemnly an hour ago.
Bert. How says your highness?
Doge. Steno is condemn'd

To a month's confinement.

Bert. What! the same who dared To stain the ducal throne with those foul words,

That have cried shame to every ear in Venice? Doge. Ay, doubtless they have echo'd o'er the arsenal,

Keeping due time with every hammer's clink
As a good jest to jolly artisans ;
Or making chorus to the creaking oar,
In the vile tune of every galley-slave
Who, as he sung the merry stave, exulted
He was not a shamed dotard, like the Doge.
Bert. Is it possible? a month's impri-
sonment!

No more for Steno?

Doge. You have heard the offence, And now you know his punishment; and then

You ask redress of me! Go to the Forty, Who pass'd the sentence upon Michel Steno; They'll do as much by Barbaro, no doubt. Bert. Ah! dared I speak my feelings! Doge. Give them breath.

Mine have no further outrage to endure. Bert. Then, in a word, it rests but on your word

To punish and avenge-I will not say
My petty wrong, for what is a mere blow,
However vile, to such a thing as I am?—
But the base insult done your state and
person.

Doge. You overrate my power, which is a pageant.

This cap is not the monarch's crown; these

robes

Might move compassion, like a beggar's rags;

Nay, more, a beggar's are his own, and these
But lent to the poor puppet, who must play
Its part with all its empire in this ermine.
Bert. Wouldst thou be king?
Doge. Yes-of a happy people.

The poisonous heads of whose envenom'd body

Have breathed a pestilence upon us all. Bert. Yet, thou wast born and still hast lived patrician

Doge. In evil hour was I so born; my birth Hath made me Doge to be insulted: but I lived and toil'd a soldier and a servant Of Venice and her people, not the senate; Their good and my own honour were my guerdon.

I have fought and bled; commanded, ay, and conquer'd;

Have made and marr'd peace oft in embassies,

As it might chance to be our country's 'vantage;

Have traversed land and sea in constant duty, Through almost sixty years, and still for Venice,

My fathers' and my birthplace, whose dear spires,

Rising at distance o'er the blue Lagoon,
It was reward enough for me to view
Once more; but not for any knot of men,
Nor sect, nor faction, did I bleed or sweat!
But would you know why I have done all this?
Ask of the bleeding pelican why she
Hath ripp'd her bosom? Had the bird a voice,
She'd tell thee 'twas for all her little ones.
Bert. And yet they made thee duke.
Doge. They made me so;

I sought it not, the flattering fetters met me
Returning from my Roman embassy,
And never having hitherto refused
Toil, charge, or duty for the state, I did not,
At these late years, decline what was the
highest

Of all in seeming, but of all most base
In what we have to do and to endure:
Bear witness for me thou,my injured subject,
When I can neither right myself nor thee.
Bert. You shall do both, if you possess

the will;

And many thousands more not less oppress'd, Who wait but for a signal-—will you give it?

Doge. You speak in riddles.

Bert. Which shall soon be read,
At peril of my life, if you disdain not
To lend a patient ear.

Doge. Say on.

Bert. Not thou,

Nor I alone, are injured and abused, Contemn'd and trampled on, but the whole people

Groan with the strong conception of their wrongs:

The foreign soldiers in the senate's pay

Bert. Wouldst thou be sovereign lord Are discontented for their long arrears;

of Venice?

Doge. Ay,

If that the people shared that sovereignty, So that nor they nor I were further slaves To this o'ergrown aristocratic Hydra,

The native mariners and civic troops Feel with their friends; for who is he amongst them

Whose brethren, parents, children, wives, or sisters,

Have not partook oppression, or pollution, | The prison and the palace-walls: there are From the patricians? And the hopeless war Those who would live to think on't, and Against the Genoese, which is still main

tain'd

With the plebeian blood, and treasure wrung
From their hard earnings, has inflamed
them further:

Even now-but, I forget that, speaking thus,
Perhaps I pass the sentence of my death!
Doge. And, suffering what thou hast done,
fear'st thou death?

Be silent then, and live on, to be beaten
By those for whom thou hast bled.

Bert. No, I will speak

At every hazard; and if Venice' Doge
Should turn delator, be the shame on him,
And sorrow too; for he will lose far more
Than I.

Doge. From me fear nothing; out with it.
Bert. Know, then, that there are met
and sworn in secret

A band of brethren, valiant hearts and true;
Men who have proved all fortunes, and have
long

Grieved over that of Venice, and have right
To do so; having served her in all climes,
And having rescued her from foreign foes,
Would do the same from those within her
walls.

They are not numerous, nor yet too few
For their great purpose; they have arms,
and means,

And hearts, and hopes, and faith, and patient
courage.

Doge. For what then do they pause?
Bert. An hour to strike.

Doge (aside). Saint Mark's shall strike
that hour!

Bert. I now have placed

My life, my honour, all my earthly hopes
Within thy power, but in the firm belief
That injuries like ours, sprung from one

cause,

Will generate one vengeance: should it be so,
Be our chief now-our sovereign hereafter.
Doge. How many are ye?
Bert. I'll not answer that
Till I am answer'd.

Doge. How, Sir! do you menace?
Bert. No; I affirm. I have betray'd
myself;

But there's no torture in the mystic wells
Which undermine your palace, nor in those
Not less appalling cells, the "leaden roofs,"
To force a single name from me of others.
The Pozzi and the Piombi were in vain ;
They might wring blood from me, but
treachery never.

And I would pass the fearful "Bridge of
Sighs,"

Joyous that mine must be the last that e'er
Would echo o'er the Stygian wave which
flows

Between the murderers and the murder'd, washing

avenge me.

Doge. If such your power and purpose,
why come here

To sue for justice, being in the course
To do yourself due right?

Bert. Because the man

Who claims protection from authority,
Showing his confidence and his submission
To that authority, can hardly be
Suspected of combining to destroy it.
Had I sate down too humbly with this blow,
A moody brow and mutter'd threats had
made me

A mark'd man to the Forty's inquisition?
But loud complaint, however angrily
It shapes its phrase, is little to be fear'd,
And less distrusted. But, besides all this,
I had another reason,

Doge. What was that?

Bert. Some rumours that the Doge was
greatly moved

By the reference of the Avogadori
Of Michel Steno's sentence to the Forty
Had reach'd me. I had served you, honour'd
you,

And felt that you were dangerously insulted,
Being of an order of such spirits, as
Requite tenfold both good and evil: 'twas
My wish to prove and urge you to redress.
Now you know all; and that I speak the
truth,

My peril be the proof.

Doge. You have deeply ventured;
But all must do so who would greatly win:
| Thus far I'll answer you—your secret's safe.
Bert. And is this all?

Doge. Unless with all entrusted,
What would you have me answer?
Bert. I would have you

Trust him who leaves his life in trust with

ACT II.

Bert. Not were he your son.
Doge. Wretch! darest thou name my
son? He died in arms,

At Sapienza, for this faithless state.
Oh! that he were alive, and I in ashes!
Or that he were alive ere I be ashes!

I should not need the dubious aid of
strangers.

Bert. Not one of all those strangers whom thou doubtest,

But will regard thee with a filial feeling, So that thou keep'st a father's faith with them.

Doge. The die is cast. Where is the place of meeting?

Bert. At midnight I will be alone and
mask'd

Where'er your highness pleases to direct me,
To wait your coming, and conduct you where
You shall receive our homage,and pronounce |
Upon our project.

Doge. At what hour arises
The moon?

SCENE I.-An Apartment in the Ducal
Palace.

ANGIOLINA (wife of the Doge) and MARIANNA.

Angiolina. What was the Doge's answer?
Marianna. That he was

That moment summon'd to a conference;
But 'tis by this time ended. I perceived
Not long ago the senators embarking ;
And the last gondola may now be seen
Gliding into the throng of barks which stud
The glittering waters.

Ang. Would he were return'd!
He has been much disquieted of late;
And Time, which has not tamed his fiery
spirit,

Nor yet enfeebled even his mortal frame,
Which seems to be more nourish'd by a soul
So quick and restless that it would consume
Less hardy clay-Time has but little power
On his resentments or his griefs. Unlike

Bert. Late, but the atmosphere is thick To other spirits of his order, who,

and dusky;

"Tis a sirocco.

Doge. At the midnight-hour, then, Near to the church where sleep my sires; the same,

Twin-named from the apostles John and
Paul;

A gondola, with one oar only, will

In the first burst of passion, pour away
Their wrath or sorrow,all things wear in him
An aspect of eternity: his thoughts,
His feelings, passions, good or evil, all
Have nothing of old age; and his bold brow
Bears but the scars of mind, the thoughts
of years,

Not their decrepitude: and he of late

Lurk in the narrow channel which glides by. Has been more agitated than his wont. Be there.

Bert. I will not fail.

Doge. And now retire

Bert. In the full hope your highness will
not falter

In your great purpose. Prince, I take my
leave.
[Exit Bertuccio.
Doge (solus) At midnight, by the church
Saints John and Paul,

Would he were come! for I alone have power

Upon his troubled spirit.

Mar. It is true,

His highness has of late been greatly moved By the affront of Steno, and with cause; But the offender doubtless even now Is doom'd to expiate his rash insult with Such chastisement as will enforce respect Where sleep my noble fathers, I repair-To female virtue, and to noble blood. To what? to hold a council in the dark With common ruffians leagued to ruin states! And will not my great sires leap from the vault,

Where lie two Doges who preceded me, And pluck me down amongst them? Would they could!

For I should rest in honour with the
honour'd.

Alas! I must not think of them, but those
Who have made me thus unworthy of a

name,

Noble and brave as aught of consular
On Roman marbles; but I will redeem it
Back to its antique lustre in our annals,
By sweet revenge on all that's base in
Venice,

And freedom to the rest, or leave it black
To all the growing calumnies of time,
Which never spare the fame of him who fails,
But try the Cæsar, or the Catiline,

By the true touchstone of desert—success.

Ang. Twas a gross insult; but I heed

it not

For the rash scorner's falsehood in itself,
But for the effect, the deadly deep impression
Which it has made upon Faliero's soul,
The proud, the fiery, the austere-austere
To all save me: I tremble when I think
To what it may conduct.

Mar. Assuredly

The Doge can not suspect you?

Ang. Suspect me! Why Steno dared not: when he scrawl'd his lie, Groveling by stealth in the moon's glimmering light,

His own still conscience smote him for the act,

And every shadow on the walls frown'd

shame

Upon his coward calumny.

Mar. Twere fit

He should be punish'd grievously.
Ang. He is so.

Mar. What! is the sentence past? is he condemn'd?

Ang. I know not that, but he has been detected.

Mar. And deem you this enough for such foul scorn?

Ang. I would not be a judge in my

own cause,

Nor do I know what sense of punishment
May reach the soul of ribalds such as Steno;
But if his insults sink no deeper in
The minds of the inquisitors than they
Have ruffled mine, he will, for all acquit-
tance,

Be left to his own shamelessness or shame. Mar. Some sacrifice is due to slander'd virtue.

Ang. Why, what is virtue if it needs a victim?

Or if it must depend upon men's words? The dying Roman said, "twas but a name :" It were indeed no more, if human breath Could make or mar it.

Mar. Yet full many a dame, Stainless and faithful, would feel all the wrong

Of such a slander; and less rigid ladies,
Such as abound in Venice, would be loud
And all-inexorable in their cry
For justice.

Ang. This but proves it is the name And not the quality they prize: the first Have found it a hard task to hold their honour,

If they require it to be blazon'd forth; And those who have not kept it, seek its seeming

As they would look out for an ornament Of which they feel the want, but not because They think it so; they live in others' thoughts,

And would seem honest as they must seem fair.

Mar. You have strange thoughts for a

patrician dame.

Love, and I loved my father, who first taught me

To single out what we should love in others,
And to subdue all tendency to lend
The best and purest feelings of our nature
To baser passions. He bestow'd my hand
Upon Faliero: he had known him noble,
Brave, generous, rich in all the qualities
Of soldier, citizen, and friend; in all
Such have I found him as my father said.
His faults are those that dwell in the high
bosoms

Of men who have commanded; too much pride,

And the deep passions fiercely foster'd by
The uses of patricians and a life
Spent in the storms of state and war; and
also

From the quick sense of honour, which becomes

A duty to a certain sign, a vice
When overstrain'd, and this I fear in him.
And then he has been rash from his youth

« 上一頁繼續 »

圖書

The Works of Lord Byron: Complete in One Volume