I have disposed all for a sudden blow; When shall it be then?

My nephew and the clients of our house, Many and martial; while the bell tolls on, Shout ye, "Saint Mark!—the foe is on our waters!"

Cal. I see it now-but on, my noble lord. Doge. All the patricians flocking to the Council

(Which they dare not refuse, at the dread signal

Pealing from out their patron-saint's proud tower)

Will then be gather'd in unto the harvest, And we will reap them with the sword for sickle.

If some few should be tardy or absent them, "Twill be but to be taken faint and single, When the majority are put to rest.

Cal. Would that the hour were come! we will not scotch,

But kill.

ask'd

Before Bertuccio added to our cause
This great ally who renders it more sure,
And therefore safer, and as such admits
Some dawn of mercy to a portion of
Our victims-must all perish in this
slaughter?

Cal.

All who encounter me and mine,
be sure,

The mercy they have shown, I show.
Consp. All! all!

Is this a time to talk of pity? when
Have they c'er shown, or felt, or feign'd it?
Bert. Bertram,

This false compassion is a folly, and
Injustice to thy comrades and thy cause!
Dost thou not see, that if we single out
Some for escape, they live but to avenge
The fallen? and how distinguish now the
innocent

From out the guilty? all their acts are one —
A single emanation from one body,
Together knit for our oppression! "Tis
Much that we let their children live; I
doubt

If all of these even should be set apart:
The hunter may reserve some single cub
From out the tiger's litter, but who e'er
Would seek to save the spotted sire or dam,
Unless to perish by their fangs? However,
I will abide by Doge Faliero's counsel;
Let him decide if any should be saved.
Doge. Ask me not-tempt me not with
such a question—
Decide yourselves.

Bert. You know their private virtues Far better than we can, to whom alone Their public vices, and most foul oppression, Have made them deadly; if there be amongst them

One who deserves to be repeal'd, pronounce. Doge. Dolfino's father was my friend,

and Lando

Fought by my side, and Marc Cornaro shared
My Genoese embassy; I saved the life
Of Veniero-shall I save it twice?
Would that I could save them and Venice
also!

All these men, or their fathers, were my friends

Till they became my subjects; then fell from me

As faithless leaves drop from the o'erblown flower,

And left me a lone blighted thorny stalk, Which, in its solitude, can shelter nothing; So, as they let me wither, let them perish! Cal. They cannot co-exist with Venice'

freedom!

Doge. Ye, though you know and feel our mutual mass

Of many wrongs, even ye are ignorant

pardon, I

To human ties, and all that's good and dear,

From his proud master's hands; if he refuse it, The offence grows his, and let him answer it. Cal. Yet, as the immediate cause of the

alliance

Which consecrates our undertaking more, I owe him such deep gratitude, that fain I would repay him as he merits; may I? Doge. You would but lop the hand, and I the head;

You would but smite the scholar, I the master;

You would but punish Steno, I the senate. I cannot pause on individual hate,

In the absorbing, sweeping, whole revenge, Which, like the sheeted fire from heaven, must blast

Without distinction, as it fell of yore, Where the Dead Sea hath quench'd two cities' ashes.

Bert. Away, then, to your posts! I but
remain

A moment to accompany the Doge
To our late place of trust, to see no spies
Have been upon the scout, and thence I hasten
To where my allotted band is under arms.
Cal. Farewell, then, until dawn.
Bert. Success go with you!
Consp. We will not fail-away! My lord,
farewell!

[The Conspirators salute the DOGE
and ISRAEL BERTUCCIO, and retire,
headed by PHILIP CALENDARO.
The DOGE and ISRAEL BERTUCCIO
remain.

Bert. We have them in the toil-it can- | not fail!

Now thou 'rt indeed a sovereign, and wilt make

A name immortal greater than the greatest:
Free citizens have struck at kings ere now;
Cæsars have fallen, and even patrician hands
Have crush'd dictators, as the popular steel
Has reach'd patricians; but until this hour,
What prince has plotted for his people's
freedom?

Or risk'd a life to liberate his subjects?
For ever, and for ever, they conspire
Against the people, to abuse their hands
To chains, but laid aside to carry weapons
Against the fellow-nations, so that yoke
On yoke, and slavery and death may whet,
Not glut, the never-gorged Leviathan!
Now, my lord, to our enterprise; 'tis great.
And greater the reward; why stand you rapt?
A moment back, and you were all impatience!
Doge. And is it then decided? must they

die?

Bert. Who?

Doge. My own friends by blood and courtesy,

And many deeds and days - the senators? Bert. You pass'd their sentence, and it is a just one.

Doge. Ay, so it seems, and so it is to you; You are a patriot, plebeian Gracchus—

The rebel's oracle-the people's tribuneI blame you not, you act in your vocation; They smote you, and oppress'd you, and despised you;

So they have me: but you ne'er spake with them;

You never broke their bread, nor shared their salt;

You never had their wine-cup at your lips; You grew not up with them, nor laugh'd, nor wept,

Nor held a revel in their company; Ne'er smiled to see them smile, nor claim'd their smile

In social interchange for yours, nor trusted Nor wore them in your heart of hearts, as I have:

These hairs of mine are gray, and so are theirs, The elders of the council; I remember When all our locks were like the raven's

wing,

As we went forth to take our prey around The isles wrung from the false Mahometan: And can I see them dabbled o'er with blood? Each stab to them will seem my suicide.

Bert. Doge! Doge! this vacillation is unworthy

A child; if you are not in second childhood, Call back your nerves to your own purpose, nor

Thus shame yourself and me. By heavens! I'd rather

Forego even now, or fail in our intent, Than see the man I venerate subside. From high resolves into such shallow weakness!

You have seen blood in battle, shed it, both Your own and that of others; can you shrink then

From a few drops from veins of hoary vampires,

Who but give back what they have drain'd from millions?

Doge. Bear with me! Step by step, and

blow on blow,

I will divide with you; think not I waver:
Ah! no; it is the certainty of all
Which I must do doth make me tremble thus.
But let these last and lingering thoughts
have way,

To which you only and the Night are

conscious,

And both regardless; when the hour arrives, 'Tis mine to sound the knell, and strike the blow,

Which shall unpeople many palaces,
And hew the highest genealogic trees
Down to earth, strew'd with their bleeding

fruit,

And crush their blossoms into barrenness;
This will I-must I-have 1 sworn to do,
Nor aught can turn me from my destiny;
But still I quiver to behold what I
Must be, and think what I have been!
Bear with me.

Bert. Re-man your breast; I feel no such remorse,

I understand it not: why should you change? You acted, and you act on your free will. Doge. Ay, there it is—you feel not, nor do I,

Else I should stab thee on the spot, to save
A thousand lives, and, killing, do no murder;
You feel not-you go to this butcher-work
As if these high-born men were steers for
shambles!

When all is over, you'll be free and merry,
And calmly wash those hands incarnadine;
But I, outgoing thee and all thy fellows
In this surpassing massacre, shall be,
Shall see, and feel-oh God! oh God!
true,

'tis

And thou dost well to answer that it was
"My own free will and act ;" and yet you err,
For I will do this! Doubt not-fear not; I
Will be your most unmerciful accomplice!
And yet I act no more on my free will,
Nor my own feelings-both compel me back;
But there is hell within me and around,
And like the demon who believes and
trembles

Must I abhor and do. Away! Away!
Get thee unto thy fellows, I will hie me
To gather the retainers of our house.
Doubt not, Saint Mark's great bell shall
wake all Venice,

Except her slaughter'd senate: ere the sun
Be broad upon the Adriatic, there
Shall be a voice of weeping, which shall
drown

The roar of waters in the cry of blood!
I am resolved-come on.

Bert. With all my soul!
Keep a firm rein upon these bursts of passion;
Remember what these men have dealt to thee,
And that this sacrifice will be succeeded
By ages of prosperity and freedom
To this unshackled city: a true tyrant
Would have depopulated empires, nor
Have felt the strange compunction which
hath wrung you

To punish a few traitors to the people! Trust me, such were a pity more misplaced Than the late mercy of the state to Steno Doge. Man, thou hast struck upon the chord which jars All nature from my heart. task!

ACT IV.

Hence to our [Exeunt.

SCENE 1-Palazzo of the Patrician LIONI. LIONI laying aside the mask and cloak which the Venetian Nobles wore in public, attended by a Domestic.

Lioni. I will to rest, right weary of this revel,

The gayest we have held for many moons, And yet, I know not why, it cheer'd me not;

There came a heaviness across my heart, Which in the lightest movement of the dance, Though eye to eye, and hand in hand united Even with the lady of my love, oppress'd me, And through my spirit chill'd my blood, until

A damp like death rose o'er my brow; I

strove

To
Through all the music ringing in my ears
A knell was sounding as distinct and clear,
Though low and far, as e'er the Adrian wave
Rose o'er the city's murmur in the night,
Dashing against the outward Lido's bulwark;
So that I left the festival before

laugh the thought away, but 't would
not be;

It reach'd its zenith, and will woo my pillow For thoughts more tranquil,or forgetfulness. Antonio, take my mask and cloak, and light The lamp within my chamber.

Antonio. Yes, my lord: Command you no refreshment? Lioni. Nought, save sleep, Which will not be commanded. Let me hope it, [Exit Antonio. Though my breast feels too anxious; I will try

Whether the air will calm my spirits: 'tis A goodly night; the cloudy wind which blew

From the Levant hath crept into its cave, And the broad moon has brighten'd. What a stillness! [Goes to an open lattice. And what a contrast with the scene I left, Where the tall torches' glare, and silver lamps'

More pallid gleam along the tapestried walls,

Spread over the reluctant gloom which

haunts

Those vast and dimly-latticed galleries
A dazzling mass of artificial light,
Which show'd all things, but nothing as
they were.

There Age essaying to recal the past,
After long striving for the hues of youth
At the sad labour of the toilet, and
Full many a glance at the too faithful
mirror,

Prankt forth in all the pride of ornament,
Forgot itself, and trusting to the falsehood
Of the indulgent beams, which show, yet
hide,

Believed itself forgotten, and was fool'd. There Youth, which needed not, nor thought of such

Vain adjuncts, lavish'd its true bloom, and health,

And bridal beauty, in the unwholesome press

Of flush'd and crowded wassailers,

Its

wasted

and

hours of rest in dreaming this was pleasure,

And so shall waste them till the sunrise

streams

heart

flowers

The sparkling eyes and flashing ornaments The white arms and the raven hair-the braids

And bracelets; swanlike bosoms, and the necklace,

An India in itself, yet dazzling not
The eye like what it circled; the thin robes
Floating like light clouds 'twixt our gaze
and heaven;

The many-twinkling feet so small and sylphlike,

Suggesting the more secret symmetry
Of the fair forms which terminate so well—
All the delusion of the dizzy scene,
Its false and true enchantments-art and
nature,

Which swam before my giddy eyes, that drank

The sight of beauty as the parch'd pilgrim's
On Arab sands the false mirage, which offers
A lucid lake to his eluded thirst,
Are gone.-Around me are the stars and
waters-

Worlds mirror'd in the ocean, goodlier sight
Than torches glared back by a gaudy glass;
And the great element, which is to space
What ocean is to earth, spreads its blue
depths,

Soften'd with the first breathings of the spring;

The high moon sails upon her beauteous

the dash

Phosphoric of the oar, or rapid twinkle
Of the far lights of skimming gondolas,
And the responsive voices of the choir
Of boatmen answering back with verse for

cious bearing!

And yet there is slight peril: 'tis not in
Their houses noble men are struck at; still,
Although I know not that I have a foe
In Venice, 'twill be wise to use some caution.
Admit him, and retire; but call up quickly
Some of thy fellows, who may wait without.
Who can this man be?

[Exit ANTONIO, and returns with BERTRAM muffled.

Bertram. My good lord Lioni,

I have no time to lose, nor thou- dismiss This menial hence; I would be private with you.

Lioni. It seems the voice of Bertram―go, Antonio. [Exit Antonio. Now, stranger, what would you at such an hour?

Bertram (discovering himself). A boon, my noble patron; you have granted Many to your poor client, Bertram; add This one, and make him happy. Lioni. Thou hast known mc