*34 B-YRON'S

Edge. ' Tliat can ne’er be.

And whither would you fly PMar. I know not, reck not—

To Syria , Egypt , to the Ottoman —

Anywhere, where we might respire unfetter’d,And live not girt by spies, nor liableTo edicts of inquisitors of state.

Doge. What, wouldst thou have a renegade forhusband, ^

And tntn him into traitor ?

Mar. He is none!

The country is the traitress, which-thrusts forthHer best and bravest from her. Tyrannyfar the worst of treasons. . Dost thou deemA one rebels except subjects P The prince whoNeglects or violates his trust is moreA brigand than the robber-cliief.

Doge. I cannot

Charge me with such a breach of faith.

Mar. No: thou

Observ’st, obey’st such laws as make old Draco’sA code of mercy by comparison.

Doge. I found the law ; I did not make it.Were I

A subject, still I might find, parts and portionsFit for amendment; but as prince, I neverWould change, for the sake of my house, thecharter

Left by our fathers.

Mar. Did they make it for

The ruin of their cliildron ?

Doge. Under such la-ws, Venice

This risen to what slie is—a state to rivalIn deeds,'and days, and sway, and, let meadd,

m alory (for wo have had Roman spiritsAmongst us), all ibatliistory has bequeath’dOf Rome and Carthage in their best times, whenTin * people sway’d by senates.

Mar. Rather say,

Groan’d under the stern oli-arclis.

JJejA’. Perhaps so :

But yet subdued the world: in such a stateAn individual, be he richest ofSuch rank as is permitted, or the meanestWithout a name, is alike nothing, whenThe policy, irrevocably tendingTo one great end, must be maintain’d in vigour.3Iar. This means that you ate more a Dogethan father.

Doge. It means, I am more citizen than either.If we had not for mauy centuriesHad thousands of such citizens, and shall,

I trust, have still such, Venice were no city.

Mar. Accursed be the city where the laws\Vv nld stifle nature’s!

i>o;;c. Had I as many sons

As I have years, I would have given them all.

.Not without feeling, but I would have giventhem

To the state’s service, to fulfil her wishesOn the flood, in the livid, or, if it must be,

As it, alas ! has been, to ostracism,

Exile, or chains, or whatsoever worseShe might decree.

M .r. And this is patriotism ?

To me it seems the worst barbarity.

Let me seek out my husband: the sage “ Ten,”With all its jealousy, will hardly warSo far with a weak woman as deny meA moment’s access to his dungeon.

Doge. m

WORKS.

So far take on myself, as order thatYou may be admitted.

Mar. And what shall I say

To Foscari from his father ?

Doge. - That he obey

The law*.

Mar. And nothing move ? Will you not seehim

Ere he depart ? It may be the last time.

Doge. The last!—my boy!—the last time I shallsee

My last of children! Tell him I will come.

[AVccr.t.

ACT III.

SCENE I.

r tUe Prison of JACOPO FOSCARI.

Jac. Fos. (coins). Ko light, save yon faint gleam,wl^ich shows me wallsWhich never echo’d but to sorrow’s sounds,

The sigh of long imprisonment, the stepOf feet on which the iron clank’d, the greanOf death, the imprecation of despair !

And yet for this 1 have return'd to Venice-,

With Some faint hope, ’tis true, that time, whichwears

The marble down, had worn away the hateOf men’s hearts: but I knew them not, andhere

Must I consume my own, which never beatFor Venice but with such a yearning asThe dove has for her distant nest, when wheelingHigh in the a ; r on her return to greetHer callow brood. What letters are these which• [Approaching the wall.Are scrawl’d along the inexorable wall ?

Will the gleam let me trace them ? Ah ! thenames

Of my sad predecessors in this place,

The dates of their despair, the.brief words ofA grief too great for many. This stone pageHolds like an epitaph their history;

And the poor captive’s tale is graven <mHis dungeon barrier, like the lover’s recordUpon the bark of some tall tree, which bearsI-Iis own and his beloved’s name. Alas !

I recognise some names familiar to me,

And blighted like to mine, - which I will add,Fittest for such a chronicle as this,

Which only can be read, as writ, by wretches.

[He engraves his acme,

Enter a FAMILIAR o/“ the Ten. *

Fam. I bring you food.

Jac. Fos. I pray you set it down ;

I am past hunger; but my lips are parch’d —

The water!

Fam. There.

Jac. Fos. (ofter drinking). I thank you; lambetter.

Fam. I am commanded to inform you thatYour further trial is postponed.

Jac. Fos. . Till when ?

Fam. I know not.—It is also in my ordersThat your illustrious lady be admitted.

Jac. Fos. All! they relent, then—I had ceasedto hope it:

'Twas time, .