MARINO FALIEUO,

t*et it be brief, and we ourselves will be

Thy guides unto the place where first we were

United to thee as thy subjects, and

Thy senate; and must now be parted from thee

4s such for ever, on the self-same spot.

Guards ! form the Doge's escort to his chamber.

[. Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The Doge’s Apartment.

The DOGE os Prisoner, and the DUCHESSattending him.

Doge. Now, that the priest is gone, ’twere use-! less all

To linger out the miserable minutes ;

But one pang more, the pang of parting fromthee,

4nd I will leave the few last grains of sand,which yet remain of the accorded hour,

Still falling—I have done with time.

Ang. ' Alas!

And I have been the cause, the unconsciouscause ;

And for this funeral marriage, this black union,Which thou, compliant with my father’s wish,Didst promise at his death, thou hast seal'dthine own.

Doge. Not so; there was that in my spirit everWhich shaped out for itself some great reverse;The marvel is, it came not until now—

And yet it was foretold me.

Ang. How foretold you ?

Doge. Long years ago—so long, they are a doubt«; *n memory, and yet they live in annals :

: When I was in my youth, and served the senate( And signory as podesta and captaini Of the town of Treviso, on a dayi Of festival, the sluggish bishop whoI Convey’d the Host aroused my rash young anger! hy strange delay, and arrogant replyI To my reproof: I raised my hand and smote him,Until he reel’d beneath liis holy burthen ;

And as he rose from earth again, he raised, His tremulous hands in pious wrath towardsI Heaven.

Thence pointing to the Host, which had fallen_ from him,

He turn’d to me, and said, “ The hour will comeWhen he thou hast, o’ ertb.rown shall overthrowthee :

The glory shall depart from out thy house,

The wisdom shall be shaken from thy soul,

And in thy best maturity of mindA madness of the heart shall seize upon thee,passion shall tear thee when all passions ceaseIn other men, or mellow^nto virtues;

I And majesty, which decks all other heads,

Shall crown to leave thee headless; honours shalli «ut prove to thee the heralds of destruction,

And hoary hairs of shame, ancPboth of death,

"ht not such death as fits an aged man.”j Thus saying, he pass’d on.—That hour is come.

1 -Ang. And with this warning couldst thou notI ,p have striven

1 A° ave *t the fatal moment, and atone,

■Uy penitence, for that which thou hast done ?

•Doge. I own the words went to my heart, so,p, much

4 bat I remember'd them amid the mazo

DOGE OF VENICE. 491

Of life, as if they form’d a spectral voice,

Which shook me in a supernatural dream jAnd. I repented ; but ’twas not for meTo pull in resolution: what must beI could not change, and would not fear.—Naymore,

Thou canst not have forgot, what all remember,That on my day of landing here as Doge,

On my return from Rome , a mist of suchUnwonted density went on beforeThe Bucentaur, 2ike the columnar cloudWhich usher’d Israel out of Egypt , tillThe pilot was misled, and disembark’d usBetween the pillars of Saint Mark's, where 'tisThe custom of the state to put to deathIts criminals, instead of touching atThe Riva della Paglia, as the wont is,—

So that all Venice shudder’d at the omen.

Ang. Ah ! little boots it now to recollectSuch things.

Doge. And yet I find a comfort in

The thought, that these .things are the work ofFate;

For I would rather yield to gods than men,

Of cling to any creed of destiny,

Rather than deem these mortals, most of whomI know to be as worthless as the dust,

And weak as worthless, more than instrumentsOf an o'erruling power; they in themselvesWere all incapable—they could not beVictors of him who oft had conquer’d for them.

Ang. Employ the minutes left in aspirationsOf a more healing nature, and in peaceEven with these wretches take thy flight toheaven.

Doge. I am at peace: the peace of certaintyThat a sure hour will come, when their sonssons,

And this proud city, and these azure waters,

And all which makes them eminent and bright,Shall be a desolation and a curse,

A hissing and a scoff unto the nations,

A Carthage, and a Tyre, an Ocean Babel.

Ang. Speak not thus now: the surge of passionstill

Sweeps o’er tliee to the last; thou dost deceiveThyself, and canst not injure them—be calmer.

Doge. I stand within eternity, and seeInto eternity and I behold—

Ay, palpable as I see thy sweet face

For the last time—the days which I denounce

Unto all time against these wave-girt walls,

And they who are indwellers.

Guard {coming forward). Doge of Venice ,

The Ten are in attendance on your highness.Doge. Then farewell, Angiolina!—one em-brace—

Forgive the old man who had been to tlieeA fond but fatal husband—love my memory—

I would not ask so much for me still living,

But thou canst judge of me more kindly now,Seeing my evil feelings are at rest.

Besides, of all the fruit of these long years,Glory, and wealth, and power, and fame, andname,

Which generally leave some flowers to bloomEven o’er the grave, I have nothing left noteven '

A little love, or friendship, or esteem,

No, not enough to extract an epitaphFrom ostentatious kinsmen; in one hour>

I have uprooted all my former life,