The guardian of my youth, and its instructor-
But though I understand your grief, and enter
In part of your disdain, it doth appal me
To see your anger, like our Adrian waves,
O'ersweep all bounds, and foam itself to air.

Doge. I tell thee-must I tell thee-what thy father
Would have required no words to comprehend?
Hast thou no feeling save the external sense
Of torture from the touch? hast thou no soul-
No pride no passion-no deep sense of honour?
Ber. F. "Tis the first time that honour has been
doubted,

And were the last, from any other sceptic.

Doge. You know the full offence of this born villain, This creeping, coward, rank, acquitted felon, Who threw his sting into a poisonous libel, And on the honour of-Oh God!-my wife, The nearest, dearest part of all men's honour, Left a base slur to pass from mouth to mouth Of loose mechanics, with all coarse foul comments, And villainous jests, and blasphemies obscene; While sneering nobles, in more polish'd guise, Whisper'd the tale, and smiled upon the lie Which made me look like them a courteous wittol, Patient-ay, proud, it may be, of dishonour.

Ber. F. But still it was a lie—you knew it false, And so did all men.

Doge. It is it is: —I did not visit on
The innocent creature thus most vilely slander'd
Because she took an old man for her lord,
For that he had been long her father's friend
And patron of her house, as if there were
No love in woman's heart but lust of youth
And beardless faces; - I did not for this
Visit the villain's infamy on her,

But craved my country's justice on his head,
The justice due unto the humblest being
Who hath a wife whose faith is sweet to him,
Who hath a home whose hearth is dear to him,
Who hath a name whose honour's all to him,
When these are tainted by the accursing breath
Of calumny and scorn.

Did you expect as his fit punishment?

Doge. Death! Was I not the sovereign of the state

Insulted on his very throne, and made

A mockery to the men who should obey me?
Was I not injured as a husband? scorn'd
As man? reviled, degraded, as a prince?
Was not offence like his a complication
Of insult and of treason?-and he lives!
Had he instead of on the Doge's throne
Stamp'd the same brand upon a peasant's stool,
His blood had gilt the threshold; for the carle
Had stabb'd him on the instant.

Who have forgot their duty to the sovereign ?

Doge. Why, yes;-boy, you perceive it then at last : Whether as fellow citizen who sues

For justice, or as sovereign who commands it,
They have defrauded me of both my rights
(For here the sovereign is a citizen);
But, notwithstanding, harm not thou a hair
Of Steno's head- he shall not wear it long.

Ber. F. Not twelve hours longer, had you left to me
The mode and means: if you had calmly heard me,
I never meant this miscreant should escape,
But wish'd you to repress such gusts of passion,
That we more surely might devise together
His taking off.

Doge.

No, nephew, he must live;

At least, just now-a life so vile as his
Were nothing at this hour; in th' olden time
Some sacrifices ask'd a single victim,

Great expiations had a hecatomb.

Ber. F. Your wishes are my law; and yet I fain Would prove to you how near unto my heart

The honour of our house must ever be.

Doge. Fear not; you shall have time and place of

proof;

But be not thou too rash, as I have been.

I am ashamed of my own anger now;
I pray you, pardon me.

Ber. F.
Why that's my uncle!
The leader, and the statesman, and the chief
Of commonwealths, and sovereign of himself!
I wonder'd to perceive you so forget
All prudence in your fury at these years,
Although the cause-

Doge. Ay, think upon the causeForget it not: -When you lie down to rest, Let it be black among your dreams; and when The morn returns, so let it stand between The sun and you, as an ill-omen'd cloud Upon a summer-day of festival: So will it stand to me; - but speak not, stir not, Leave all to me; we shall have much to do, And you shall have a part. -But now retire, 'Tis fit I were alone.

Ber. F. (taking up and placing the ducal bonnet on
the table).
Ere I depart,

I pray you to resume what you have spurn'd,
Till you can change it haply for a crown.
And now I take my leave, imploring you
In all things to rely upon ny duty
As doth become your near and faithful kinsman,
And not less loyal citizen and subject.

[Exit BERTUCCIO FALIERO.

Doge (solus). Adieu, my worthy nephew.
Hollow bauble! [Taking up the ducal cap.
Beset with all the thorns that line a crown,
Without investing the insulted brow
With the all-swaying majesty of kings;
Thou idle, gilded, and degraded toy,

Let me resume thee as I would a vizor. [Puts it on.
How my brain aches beneath thee! and my temples
Throb feverish under thy dishonest weight.
Could I not turn thee to a diadem?
Could I not shatter the Briarean sceptre
Which in this hundred-handed senate rules,
Making the people nothing, and the prince
A pageant? In my life I have achieved
Tasks not less difficult-achieved for them,
Who thus repay me !- Can I not requite them?
Oh for one year! Oh! but for even a day
Of my full youth, while yet my body served
My soul as serves the generous steed his lord,
I would have dash'd amongst them, asking few
In aid to overthrow these swoln patricians;
But now I must look round for other hands
To serve this hoary head; but it shall plan
In such a sort as will not leave the task
Herculean, though as yet 'tis but a chaos
Of darkly brooding thoughts: my fancy is
In her first work, more nearly to the light
Holding the sleeping images of things
For the selection of the pausing judgment.
The troops are few in—————

Doge (solus). This patron may be sounded; I will try him.

I know the people to be discontented:
They have cause, since Sapienza's adverse day,
When Genoa conquer'd; they have further cause,
Since they are nothing in the state, and in
The city worse than nothing—mere machines,
To serve the nobles' most patrician pleasure.
The troops have long arrears of pay, oft promised,
And murmur deeply-any hope of change

Will draw them forward: they shall pay themselves
With plunder - but the priests- I doubt the

priesthood

Will not be with us; they have hated me

Since that rash hour, when, madden'd with the drone,
I smote the tardy bishop at Treviso, '
Quickening his holy march; yet, ne'ertheless,
They may be won, at least their chief at Rome,

1 An historical fact. See Marin Sanuto's Lives of the Doges.[ Sanuto says that Heaven took away his senses for this buffet, and induced him to conspire: Però fu permesso che il Faliero perdette l' intelleto,' &c." - Byron Letters.]

2[This officer was chief of the artisans of the arsenal, and commanded the Bucentaur, for the safety of which, even if an

By some well-timed concessions; but, above
All things, I must be speedy: at my hour
Of twilight little light of life remains.
Could I free Venice, and avenge my wrongs,
I had lived too long, and willingly would sleep
Next moment with my sires; and, wanting this,
Better that sixty of my fourscore years
Had been already where- how soon, I care not-
The whole must be extinguish'd;- better that
They ne'er had been, than drag me on to be
The thing these arch-oppressors fain would make me.
Let me consider-of efficient troops

There are three thousand posted at

Enter VINCENZO and ISRAEL BERTUCCIO. Vin. May it please Your highness, the same patron whom I spake of Is here to crave your patience.

Doge. Vincenzo.

Leave the chamber, [Exit VINCENZO. what would you?

Sir, you may advance

I. Ber. Redress.
Doge.

1. Ber.

Of whom?

Of God and of the Doge.

I. Ber. I am a man, my lord. Doge. Why so is he who smote you. 1. Ber. Nay, more, a noble one—at least, in Venice: But since he hath forgotten that I am one, And treats me like a brute, the brute may turn'Tis said the worm will.

Behold my blood! the first time it e'er flow'd Dishonourably.

Doge.

Have you long time served?

I. Ber. So long as to remember Zara's sicge, And fight beneath the chief who beat the Huns there, Sometime my general, now the Doge Faliero. —

Doge. How are we comrades ?-the state's ducal robes

Sit newly on me, and you were appointed
Chief of the arsenal ere I came from Rome;

So that I recognised you not. Who placed you?

I. Ber. The late Doge; keeping still my old command

As patron of a galley: my new office
Was given as the reward of certain scars
(So was your predecessor pleased to say):

I little thought his bounty would conduct me
To his successor as a helpless plaintiff;
At least, in such a cause.

Had any,

Doge. Then wherefore came you here? I. Ber. I come for justice, Because my general is Doge, and will not See his old soldier trampled on. Save Faliero, fill'd the ducal throne, This blood had been wash'd out in other blood. Doge. You come to me for justice unto me! The Doge of Venice, and I cannot give it; I cannot even obtain it-'t was denied To me most solemnly an hour ago! I. Ber. How says your highness? Doge.

To a month's confinement.

1. Ber. Yet, thou wast born, and still hast lived, patrician.

Doge. In evil hour was I so born; my birth Hath made me Doge to be insulted: but

I lived and toil'd a soldier and a servant

Of Venice and her people, not the senate;
Their good and my own honour were my guerdon.
I have fought and bled; commanded, ay, and con-
quered;

Have made and marr'd peace oft in embassies,
As it might chance to be our country's 'vantage;
Have traversed land and sea in constant duty,
Through almost sixty years, and still for Venice,
My fathers' and my birthplace, whose dear spires,
Rising at distance o'er the blue Lagoon,
It was reward enough for me to view
Once more; but not for any knot of men,
Nor sect, nor faction, did I bleed or sweat!
But would you know why I have done all this?
Ask of the bleeding pelican why she
Hath ripp'd her bosom? Had the bird a voice,
She'd tell thee 't was for all her little ones.
I. Ber. And yet they made thee duke.
Doge.

They made me so;

I. Ber. What! the same who dared To stain the ducal throne with those foul words, That have cried shame to every ear in Venice? Doge. Ay, doubtless they have echo'd o'er the

arsenal,

Keeping due time with every hammer's clink

As a good jest to jolly artisans ;

Or making chorus to the creaking oar,

In the vile tune of every galley-slave,

Who, as he sung the merry stave, exulted
He was not a shamed dotard like the Doge.
I. Ber. Is 't possible? a month's imprisonment !
No more for Steno?

Doge.

You have heard the offence, And now you know his punishment; and then You ask redress of me! Go to the Forty, Who pass'd the sentence upon Michel Steno; They'll do as much by Barbaro, no doubt. I. Ber. Ah! dared I speak my feelings! Doge. Give them breath.

Mine have no further outrage to endure.

I. Ber. Then, in a word, it rests but on your word To punish and avenge-I will not say My petty wrong, for what is a mere blow, However vile, to such a thing as I am?But the base insult done your state and person. Doge. You overrate my power, which is a pageant. This cap is not the monarch's crown; these robes Might move compassion, like a beggar's rags;

Toil, charge, or duty for the state, I did not,
At these late years, decline what was the highest

Of all in seeming, but of all most base

In what we have to do and to endure:

Bear witness for me thou, my injured subject,

When I can neither right myself nor thee.

I. Ber. You shall do both, if you possess the will; And many thousands more not less oppress'd,

Who wait but for a signal-will you give it?

Doge. You speak in riddles.

A band of brethren, valiant hearts and true;
Men who have proved all fortunes, and have long
Grieved over that of Venice, and have right
To do so; having served her in all climes,
And having rescued her from foreign foes,
Would do the same from those within her walls.
They are not numerous, nor yet too few

For their great purpose; they have arms, and means,
And hearts, and hopes, and faith, and patient courage.
Doge. For what then do they pause?
1. Ber.
An hour to strike.
Doge (aside). Saint Mark's shall strike that hour!!
I. Ber.
I now have placed
My life, my honour, all my earthly hopes
Within thy power, but in the firm belief
That injuries like ours, sprung from one cause,
Will generate one vengeance: should it be so,
Be our chief now-our sovereign hereafter.
Doge. How many are ye?
I. Ber.

Till I am answer'd.

Doge.

I'll not answer that

How, sir! do you menace?

I. Ber. No; I affirm. I have betray'd myself; But there's no torture in the mystic wells Which undermine your palace, nor in those Not less appalling cells, the "leaden roofs," To force a single name from me of others. The Pozzi and the Piombi were in vain ; They might wring blood from me, but treachery

never.

And I would pass the fearful "Bridge of Sighs,"
Joyous that mine must be the last that e'er
Would echo o'er the Stygian wave which flows
Between the murderers and the murder'd, washing
The prison and the palace walls: there are

Those who would live to think on 't, and avenge me. Doge. If such your power and purpose, why come here

To sue for justice, being in the course
To do yourself due right?

I. Ber.
Because the man,
Who claims protection from authority,

Showing his confidence and his submission

To that authority, can hardly be

Suspected of combining to destroy it.

Had I sate down too humbly with this blow,
A moody brow and mutter'd threats had made me
A mark'd man to the Forty's inquisition;

1 The bells of San Marco were never rung but by order of the Doge. One of the pretexts for ringing this alarm was to have been an announcement of the appearance of a Genoese fleet off the Lagune.

[The state dungeons, called Pozzi, or wells, were sunk in the thick walls of the palace; and the prisoner, when taken

Had reach'd me. I had served you, honour'd you,

And felt that you were dangerously insulted,

Being of an order of such spirits, as
Requite tenfold both good and evil: 't was
My wish to prove and urge you to redress.
Now you know all; and that I speak the truth,
My peril be the proof.

Doge.

You have deeply ventured; But all must do so who would greatly win: Thus far I'll answer you-your secret's safe. I. Ber. And is this all? Doge.

Unless with all intrusted,
What would you have me answer?
I. Ber.
I would have you
Trust him who leaves his life in trust with you.
Doge. But I must know your plan, your names,
and numbers;

The last may then be doubled, and the former
Matured and strengthen'd.

Not were he your son.

Doge. With but my nephew.
I. Ber.

Doge. Wretch! darest thou name my son? He died in arms

At Sapienza for this faithless state.

Oh! that he were alive, and I in ashes!

Or that he were alive ere I be ashes!

I should not need the dubious aid of strangers.

I. Ber. Not one of all those strangers whom thou doubtest,

But will regard thee with a filial feeling,

So that thou keep'st a father's faith with them.
Doge. The die is cast. Where is the place of

I. Ber. Late, but the atmosphere is thick and dusky;

'Tis a sirocco.

Doge.

At the midnight hour, then,

Near to the church where sleep my sires; the same,
Twin-named from the apostles John and Paul;
A gondola, with one oar only, will

Lurk in the narrow channel which glides by
Be there.

I. Ber. I will not fail.
Doge.

And now retire

I. Ber. In the full hope your highness will not falter In your great purpose. Prince, I take my leave. [Exit ISRAEL BERTUCCIO.

Doge (solus). At midnight, by the church Saints
John and Paul,

Where sleep my noble fathers, I repair-
To what? to hold a council in the dark
With common ruffians leagued to ruin states !
And will not my great sires leap from the vault,
Where lie two doges who preceded me,

And pluck me down amongst them? Would they could!

For I should rest in honour with the honour'd.
Alas! I must not think of them, but those
Who have made me thus unworthy of a name,
Noble and brave as aught of consular
On Roman marbles; but I will redeem it
Back to its antique lustre in our annals,
By sweet revenge on all that's base in Venice,
And freedom to the rest, or leave it black
To all the growing calumnies of time,
Which never spare the fame of him who fails,
But try the Cæsar, or the Catiline,

By the true touchstone of desert-success. 3

[The Doges were all buried in St. Mark's before Faliero. It is singular that when his predecessor, Andrea Dandolo, died, the Ten made a law that all the future Doges should be buried with their families in their own churches one would think, by a kind of presentiment. So that all that is said of his ancestral Doges, as buried at St. John's and Paul's, is altered from the fact, they being in St. Mark's. Make a note of this, and put Editor as the subscription to it. As I make such pretensions to accuracy, I should not like to be twitted even with such trifles on that score. Of the play they may say what they please, but not so of my costume and dram. pers. they having been real existences. - Byron Letters, Oct. 1820.]

2 A gondola is not like a common boat, but is as easily

His highness has of late been greatly moved
By the affront of Steno, and with cause:
But the offender doubtless even now
Is doom'd to expiate his rash insult with
Such chastisement as will enforce respect
To female virtue, and to noble blood.

Ang. 'Twas a gross insult; but I heed it not
For the rash scorner's falsehood in itself,
But for the effect, the deadly deep impression
Which it has made upon Faliero's soul,
The proud, the fiery, the austere-austere
To all save me: I tremble when I think
To what it may conduct.

His own still conscience smote him for the act, And every shadow on the walls frown'd shame Upon his coward calumny.

He should be punish'd grievously.
Ang.
Mar. What is the sentence pass'd? is he con-

demn ?

Ang. I know not that, but he has been detected. Mar. And deem you this enough for such foul

scorn?

Ang. I would not be a judge in my own cause, Nor do I know what sense of punishment May reach the soul of ribalds such as Steno; But if his insults sink no deeper in The minds of the inquisitors than they Have ruffled mine, he will, for all acquittance, Be left to his own shamelessness or shame. Mar. Some sacrifice is due to slander'd virtue. Ang. Why, what is virtue if it needs a victim? Or if it must depend upon men's words? The dying Roman said, "'t was but a name :

rowed with one oar as with two (though, of course, not so swiftly), and often is so from motives of privacy; and, since the decay of Venice, of economy.

3" What Gifford says of the first act is very consolatory. English, sterling genuine English, is a desideratum amongst you, and I am glad that I have got so much left; though Heaven knows how I retain it: I hear none but from iny valet, and he is Nottinghamshire; and I see none but in your new publications, and theirs is no language at all, but jargon. Gifford says that it is good English, and Foscolo says that the characters are right Venetian

Here are in all two worthy voices gain'd.'" -Byron Letters, Sept. 1820.]