Hold! hold!

Cal. (drawing his sword.)
Who moves a step against them dies. Hold! hear
Bertuccio What! are you appall'd to see
A lone, unguarded, weaponless old man [mystery?
Amongst you?-Israel, speak! what means this
I. Ber. Let them advance and strike at their own
Ungrateful suicides! for on our lives [bosoms,
Depend their own, their fortunes, and their hopes.
Doge. Strike!-If I dreaded death, a death more
Than any your rash weapons can inflict, [fearful
I should not now be here:-Oh, noble Courage!
The eldest-born of Fear, which makes you brave
Against this solitary hoary head!

See the bold chiefs, who would reform a state
And shake down senates, mad with wrath and dread
At sight of one patrician!-Butcher me,
You can; I care not.-Israel, are these men
The mighty hearts you spoke of? look upon them!
Cal. Faith! he hath shamed us, and deservedly.
Was this your trust in your true chief Bertuccio,
To turn your swords against him and his guest?
Sheathe them, and hear him.

I disdain to speak.

I. Ber. They might and must have known a heart like mine Incapable of treachery; and the power They gave me to adopt all fitting means To further their design was ne'er abused. They might be certain that whoe'er was brought By me into this council had been led

To take his choice-as brother, or as victim.

Doge. And which am I to be? your actions leave
Some cause to doubt the freedom of the choice.
I. Ber. My lord, we would have perish'd here
together,

Had these rash men proceeded; but, behold,
They are ashamed of that mad moment's impulse,
And droop their heads; believe me, they are such
As I described them-Speak to them.

We are all listening in wonder. (1)
I. Ber. (addressing the Conspirators.) You are safe,
Nay, more, almost triumphant-listen then,
And know my words for truth.

Doge.
You see me here,
As one of you hath said, an old, unarm'd,
Defenceless man; and yesterday you saw me
Presiding in the hall of ducal state,
Apparent sovereign of our hundred isles, (2)
Robed in official purple, dealing out
The edicts of a power which is not mine,
Nor yours, but of our masters-the patricians.
Why I was there you know, or think you know;
Why I am here, he who hath been most wrong'd,
He who among you hath been most insulted,
Outraged and trodden on, until he doubt
If he be worm or no, may answer for me,
Asking of his own heart what brought him here?

You know my recent story, all men know it,
And judge of it far differently from those
Who sate in judgment to heap scorn on scorn.
But spare me the recital-it is here,
Here at my heart the outrage-but my words,
Already spent in unavailing plaints,
Would only show my feebleness the more,
And I come here to strengthen even the strong,
And urge them on to deeds, and not to war
With woman's weapons; but I need not urge you.
Our private wrongs have sprung from public vices
In this-I cannot call it commonwealth
Nor kingdom, which hath neither prince nor people,
But all the sins of the old Spartan state (3)
Without its virtues-temperance and valour.
The lords of Lacedæmon were true soldiers,
But ours are Sybarites, while we are Helots,
Of whom I am the lowest, most enslaved;
Although dress'd out to head a pageant, as
The Greeks of yore made drunk their slaves to form
A pastime for their children. You are met
To overthrow this monster of a state,
This mockery of a government, this spectre,
Which must be exorcised with blood,—and then
We will renew the times of truth and justice,
Condensing in a fair free commonwealth
Not rash equality but equal rights,
Proportion'd like the columns to the temple,
Giving and taking strength reciprocal,

And making firm the whole with grace and beauty,
So that no part could be removed without
Infringement of the general symmetry.

In operating this great change, I claim
To be one of you-if you trust in me;
If not, strike home,-my life is compromised,
And I would rather fall by freemen's hands
Than live another day to act the tyrant
As delegate of tyrants: such I am not,
And never have been-read it in our annals;
I can appeal to my past government
In many lands and cities; they can tell you
If I were an oppressor, or a man
Feeling and thinking for my fellow-men.
Haply had I been what the senate sought,
A thing of robes and trinkets, dizen'd out
To sit in state as for a sovereign's picture;
A popular scourge, a ready sentence-signer,
A stickler for the Senate and "the Forty,"
A sceptic of all measures which had not
The sanction of "the Ten," a council-fawner,
A tool, a fool, a puppet,-they had ne'er
Foster'd the wretch who stung me. What I suffer
Has reach'd me through my pity for the people;
That many know, and they who know not yet
Will one day learn: meantime I do devote,
Whate'er the issue, my last days of life-
My present power such as it is, not that
Of Doge, but of a man who has been great
Before he was degraded to a Doge,

And still has individual means and mind;
I stake my fame (and I had fame)—my breath—
(The least of all, for its last hours are nigh)

My heart-my hope-my soul-upon this cast!
Such as I am, I offer me to you

And to your chiefs, accept me or reject me,
A prince who fain would be a citizen

Or nothing, and who has left his throne to be so.
Cal. Long live Faliero!-Venice shall be free!
Consp. Long live Faliero !

I. Ber.

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,

Of Venice-be our general and chief.

Doge. Chief!-general!—I was general at Zara, And chief in Rhodes and Cyprus, prince in Venice: I cannot stoop--that is, I am not fit To lead a band of

patriots: when I lay Aside the dignities which I have borne, Tis not to put on others, but to be

Mate to my fellows-But now to the point:

Israel has stated to me your whole plan-
Tis bold, but feasible if I assist it,

And must be set in motion instantly.

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.

Is this a time to talk of pity? when
Have they e'er shown, or felt, or feign'd it?
I. Ber.

This false compassion is a folly, and
Injustice to thy comrades and thy cause!

When shall it be then?

Some for escape, they live but to avenge

Bertram,

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
Decide yourselves.
[question-

I. Ber.

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 reprieved, pronounce.

Doge. Dolfino's father was my friend, and Lando Fought by my side, and Marc Cornaro shared (1) 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, eyen ye are ignorant (2)
What fatal poison to the springs of life,
To human ties, and all that's good and dear
Lurks in the present institutes of Venice:

All these men were my friends; I loved them, they

(2) In the MS.

"Bear witness with me ye who hear and know, And feel our mutual mass of many wrongs."--L. E.

You would but punish Steno, I the senate.

cannot pause on individual hate,

in the absorbing, sweeping, whole revenge,

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;

Without distinction, as it fell of yore,

Where the Dead Sea hath quench'd two cities' ashes.
I. Ber. Away, then, to your posts! I but remain
A moment to accompany the Doge

To our late place of tryst, 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!
I. Ber.

Success go with you! Consp. We will not fail-Away! My lord, farewell!(1)

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

remain.

I. Ber. We have them in the toil-it cannot 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; Cesars 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 glat, the never-gorged Leviathan! Now, my lord, to our enterprise;-'t is 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? I. Ber. Who?

Doge. My own friends, by blood and courtesy, And many deeds and days-the senators?

1. Ber. 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, a plebeian GracchusThe 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;

"The great defect of Marino Faliero is, that the nature and character of the conspiracy excite no interest. It mattere little that Lord Byron has been faithful to history, if the event is destitute of a poetic character. Like Alfieri, to whom, in many points, his genius approximates, he is fettered by an intractable story, which is wholly remote from the instincts and feelings of mankind. How elevated soever may be his diction, how vivid soever his colouring, a moral truth is wanting,-that charm, so difficult to define, so easy to apprehend, which, diffused over the scene, excites in generous bosoms an exalted enthusiasm for the great inerests of humanity. This is the poesy of history. It is the charm of the William Tell of Schiller; it is felt in the awful plot of Brutus, and, to a certain degree, in the conspiracy of Herre and Jaffier; for the end and purpose of these conspiracies were, to redeem their country from insult and pression. But in Marino Faliero's attempt against the state, we contemplate nothing but the project of a sanguinary ruffian, seeking to grasp unlimited authority, and making, after the established precedents of all usurpers, the wrongs and sufferings of the commonalty his pretence; while, in another aspect of his character, we see him goaded, yan imagined injury, into an enterprise which would have inundated Venice with her best blood. Is this a sublime

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 grey, 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. (2)

I. Ber. 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 mil-
lions?

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 the earth, strew'd with their bleeding fruit,
And crush their blossoms into barrenness:
This will I-must 1-have I 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.
I. Ber. 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,

spectacle, calculated to purge the mind, according to the aphorism of Aristotle, by means of terror or pity?" Ecl. Rev.-L. E.

(2) "The unmixed selfishness of the motives with which the Doge accedes to the plot perpetually escapes him. Not that he is wholly untouched by the compunctious visitings of nature. But the fearful unity of such a character is broken by assigning to it the throbbings and the pangs of human feelings, and by making him recoil with affright from slaughter and desolation. In the roar and whirlwind of the mighty passions which precede the acting of a dreadful plot, it is wholly unreasonable and out of keeping to put into his mouth the sentimental effusions of affectionate pity for his friends, whom he thinks of rather too late to give these touches of remorse and mercy any other character than that of hypocritical whining. The sentiments are certainly good, but lamentably out of time and place, and remind us of Scarron's remark upon the moralising Phlegyas in the infernal regions,

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! 'tis true,
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.

A damp like death rose o'er my brow; I strove
To laugh the thought away, but 't would not be:
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

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.

Ant.
Command you no refreshment?
Lioni.

Which will not be commanded.

Yes, my lord:

Nought, save sleep, 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 stil
ness!
[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 dianly-latticed galleries
A dazzling mass of artificial light,

Which show'd all things, but nothing as they were.
There Age, essaying to recall 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,
Prank'd 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.

jars

All nature from my heart. Hence to our task!

ACT IV.

SCENE I. (2)

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

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 sylph-like,
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,

chantments of that which he has just quitted. Nothing ca be finer than this picture, in both its compartments. There is a truth and a luxuriance in the description of the rout which mark at once the hand of a master, and raise it to s moonlight view from the window is equally grand and very high rank as a piece of poetical painting;-while the beautiful, and reminds us of those magnificent and chanting lookings-forth in Manfred, which have left, we will confess, far deeper traces on our fancy than any thin in the more elaborate work before us." Jeffrey.-L. E