484! BYRON’S

Metliinks tlie day breaks—is it not so ? look,Thine eyes are clear with youth;—the air putson

A morning' freshness, and, at least to me,

The sea looks grayer through the lattice.

Ber. F. True,

The morn is dappling in the sky.

Doge. Away then!

See that they strike without delay, and withThe first toll from St. Mark’s, march on thepalace

With all our house’s strength; here I will meetyou;

The Sixteen and their companies will moveIn separate columns at the self-same moment:

Be sure you post yourself at the great gate :jl would not trust “ the Ten” except to us—

The rest, the rabble of patricians, mayGlut the more careless swords of those leaguedwith us.

Remember that the cry is still “St. Mark!

,The Genoese are come—ho! to the rescue!

St. Mark and Liberty!”—Now—now to action !Ber. F. Farewell then, noble uncle, we willmeet

In freedom and true sovereignty, or never!

Doge. Come hither, my Bertuccio—one em-brace ;

Speed, for the day grows broader; send mesoon

A messenger to tell me how all goesWhen you rejoin our troops, and then sound—sound

The storm bell from St. Mark’s !

[Exit Bertuccio Faliero.

Doge (solus). Heisgoue.

And on each footstep moves a life. ’Tis done.Now the destroying angel hovers o’erVenice , and pauses ere he pours the vial,

Even as the eagle overlooks his prey,

And for a moment, poised in middle air,

Suspends the motion of his mighty wings,

Then swoops with his unerring beak. Thou day!That slowly walk’st the waters ! march—marchon—

I would not smite i’ the dark, but rather seeThat no stroke errs. And you, ye blue sea waves!

1 have seen you dyed ere now, and deeply too,With Genoese, Saracen , and Hunnish gore,

While that of Venice flow’d too, but victorious,Now thou must wear an unmix’d crimson; noBarbaric blood can reconcile us nowUnto that horrible incarnadine^

Biit friend or foe will roll in civic slaughter.

And have I lived to fourscore years for this ?

I, who was named Preserver of the City ?

1, at whose name the million’s caps were flungInto the air, and cries from tens of thousandsRose up, imploring Heaven to send me blessings,And fame, and length of days—to see this day ?But this day, black within the calendar,

Shall be succeeded by a bright millennium.

Doge Dandolo survived to ninety summersTo vanquish empires, and refuse their crown;

I will resign a crown, and make tlic stateRenew its freedom—but oh ! by what means ?

The noble end must justify them. WhatAre a few drops of human blood ? 'tis false,

The blood of tyrants is not human; they,

Like to incnvnale Molochs, feed on ours,

Until ’tis time to give them to the tombs

WORKS.

Which they have made so populous.—Oh,world 1

Oh men ! what are ye, and our best designs,

That we must work by crime to punish crime ?And slay ns if Death had but this one gate,

When a few years would make the sword super*fluous ?

And I, upon the verge of th’ unknown realm,

Yet send so many heralds on before me ?—

I must not ponder this.

[A pause.Hark ! was there notA murmur as of distant voices, andThe tramp of feet in martial unison ?

Wliat phantoms even of sound our wishes raise!It cannot be—the signal hath not rung—

Why pauses it ? My nephew’s messengerShould be upon his way to me, and heHimself perhaps even now draws grating backUpon its ponderous hinge the steep towerportal,

Where swings the sullen huge oracular bell.Which never knells but for a princely death,

Or for a state in peril, pealing forthTremendous bodements; let it do its office,

And be this peal its awfullest and lastSound till the strong tower rock !—Wliat! silentstill ?

I would go forth, but that uiy post is here,

To be the centre of re-union toThe oft discordant dements which formLeagues of this nature, and to keep compactThe wavering of the weak, in case of conflict;For if they should do battle, ’twill be here,Within the palace, that the strife will thicken:Then here must be my station, as becomes

The master-mover.-Hark! he comes—h e

comes,

My nephew, brave Bertuccio’s messenger.— .

What tidings ? Is he marching? hath he sped'They here !—all’s lost—yet will I make an effort.

Eater a SIGNOR of the NIGHT, Kith Guards,&c., £c.

Sig. Doge, I arrest thee of high treason! ,

Doge. hfe-

Thy prince, of treason ?—Who are they tin 1 *dare

Cloak their own treason under such an order ?Sig. ($hov:ing his order). Behold my order fro^ 1tlie assembled Ten. }

Doge. And where are they, and why assembled*no

Such council can be lawful, till the princePreside there, and that duty’s mine: on thineI charge thee, give me way, or marshal meTo the council chamber.

Sig. Duke! it may not b ? ’

Nor are they in the wonted Hall of Council,

But sitting in the convent of Saint Saviour s.Doae. You dare to disobey me, then ?

Sig. Isof* 1

The state, and needs must serve it faithfully >My warrant is the will of those who rule it.

Doge. And till that warrant has my signatureIt is illegal, and, as now applied,

Rebellious. Hast thou weigh’d well thy L* cworth, g

That thus you dare assume a lawless function*Sig. ’Tis not my office to reply, but act—

I am placed here as guard upon thy person,

And not us judge to hear or to decide.