Lord Byron - Delphi Poets Series
Page 111
And be absolved by his upright compeers.
Ang. But he has been condemned into captivity.
Doge. For such as him a dungeon were acquittal;
And his brief term of mock-arrest will pass
Within a palace. But I’ve done with him; 440
The rest must be with you.
Ang. With me, my Lord?
Doge. Yes, Angiolina. Do not marvel; I
Have let this prey upon me till I feel
My life cannot be long; and fain would have you
Regard the injunctions you will find within
This scroll (giving her a paper)
— — Fear not; they are for your advantage:
Read them hereafter at the fitting hour.
Ang. My Lord, in life, and after life, you shall
Be honoured still by me: but may your days
Be many yet — and happier than the present! 450
This passion will give way, and you will be
Serene, and what you should be — what you were.
Doge. I will be what I should be, or be nothing;
But never more — oh! never, never more,
O’er the few days or hours which yet await
The blighted old age of Faliero, shall
Sweet Quiet shed her sunset! Never more
Those summer shadows rising from the past
Of a not ill-spent nor inglorious life,
Mellowing the last hours as the night approaches, 460
Shall soothe me to my moment of long rest.
I had but little more to ask, or hope,
Save the regards due to the blood and sweat,
And the soul’s labour through which I had toiled
To make my country honoured. As her servant —
Her servant, though her chief — I would have gone
Down to my fathers with a name serene
And pure as theirs; but this has been denied me.
Would I had died at Zara!
Ang. There you saved
The state; then live to save her still. A day, 470
Another day like that would be the best
Reproof to them, and sole revenge for you.
Doge. But one such day occurs within an age;
My life is little less than one, and ‘tis
Enough for Fortune to have granted once,
That which scarce one more favoured citizen
May win in many states and years. But why
Thus speak I? Venice has forgot that day —
Then why should I remember it? — Farewell,
Sweet Angiolina! I must to my cabinet; 480
There’s much for me to do — and the hour hastens.
Ang. Remember what you were.
Doge. It were in vain!
Joy’s recollection is no longer joy,
While Sorrow’s memory is a sorrow still.
Ang. At least, whate’er may urge, let me implore
That you will take some little pause of rest:
Your sleep for many nights has been so turbid,
That it had been relief to have awaked you,
Had I not hoped that Nature would o’erpower
At length the thoughts which shook your slumbers thus. 490
An hour of rest will give you to your toils
With fitter thoughts and freshened strength.
Doge. I cannot —
I must not, if I could; for never was
Such reason to be watchful: yet a few —
Yet a few days and dream-perturbéd nights,
And I shall slumber well — but where? — no matter.
Adieu, my Angiolina.
Ang. Let me be
An instant — yet an instant your companion!
I cannot bear to leave you thus.
Doge. Come then,
My gentle child — forgive me: thou wert made 500
For better fortunes than to share in mine,
Now darkling in their close toward the deep vale
Where Death sits robed in his all-sweeping shadow.
When I am gone — it may be sooner than
Even these years warrant, for there is that stirring
Within — above — around, that in this city
Will make the cemeteries populous
As e’er they were by pestilence or war, —
When I am nothing, let that which I was
Be still sometimes a name on thy sweet lips, 510
A shadow in thy fancy, of a thing
Which would not have thee mourn it, but remember.
Let us begone, my child — the time is pressing.
Scene II. — A retired spot near the Arsenal.
Israel Bertuccio and Philip Calendaro.
Cal. How sped you, Israel, in your late complaint?
I. Ber. Why, well.
Cal. Is’t possible! will he be punished?
I. Ber. Yes.
Cal. With what? a mulct or an arrest?
I. Ber. With death!
Cal. Now you rave, or must intend revenge,
Such as I counselled you, with your own hand.
I. Ber. Yes; and for one sole draught of hate, forego
The great redress we meditate for Venice,
And change a life of hope for one of exile;
Leaving one scorpion crushed, and thousands stinging
My friends, my family, my countrymen! 10
No, Calendaro; these same drops of blood,
Shed shamefully, shall have the whole of his
For their requital — — But not only his;
We will not strike for private wrongs alone:
Such are for selfish passions and rash men,
But are unworthy a Tyrannicide.
Cal. You have more patience than I care to boast.
Had I been present when you bore this insult,
I must have slain him, or expired myself
In the vain effort to repress my wrath. 20
I. Ber. Thank Heaven you were not — all had else been marred:
As ‘tis, our cause looks prosperous still.
Cal. You saw
The Doge — what answer gave he?
I. Ber. That there was
No punishment for such as Barbaro.
Cal. I told you so before, and that ‘twas idle
To think of justice from such hands.
I. Ber. At least,
It lulled suspicion, showing confidence.
Had I been silent, not a Sbirro but
Had kept me in his eye, as meditating
A silent, solitary, deep revenge. 30
Cal. But wherefore not address you to the Council?
The Doge is a mere puppet, who can scarce
Obtain right for himself. Why speak to him?
I. Ber. You shall know that hereafter.
Cal. Why not now?
I. Ber. Be patient but till midnight. Get your musters,
And bid our friends prepare their companies:
Set all in readiness to strike the blow,
Perhaps in a few hours: we have long waited
For a fit time — that hour is on the dial,
It may be, of to-morrow’s sun: delay 40
Beyond may breed us double danger. See
That all be punctual at our place of meeting,
And armed, excepting those of the Sixteen,
Who will remain among the troops to wait
The signal.
Cal. These brave words have breathed new life
Into my veins; I am sick of these protracted
And hesitating councils: day on day
Crawled on, and added but another link
To our long fetters, and some fresher wrong
Inflicted on our brethren or ourselves, 50
Helping to swell our tyrants’ bloated strength.
Let us but deal upon the
m, and I care not
For the result, which must be Death or Freedom!
I’m weary to the heart of finding neither.
I. Ber. We will be free in Life or Death! the grave
Is chainless. Have you all the musters ready?
And are the sixteen companies completed
To sixty?
Cal. All save two, in which there are
Twenty-five wanting to make up the number.
I. Ber. No matter; we can do without. Whose are they? 60
Cal. Bertram’s and old Soranzo’s, both of whom
Appear less forward in the cause than we are.
I. Ber. Your fiery nature makes you deem all those
Who are not restless cold; but there exists
Oft in concentred spirits not less daring
Than in more loud avengers. Do not doubt them.
Cat. I do not doubt the elder; but in Bertram
There is a hesitating softness, fatal
To enterprise like ours: I’ve seen that man
Weep like an infant o’er the misery 70
Of others, heedless of his own, though greater;
And in a recent quarrel I beheld him
Turn sick at sight of blood, although a villain’s.
I. Ber. The truly brave are soft of heart and eyes,
And feel for what their duty bids them do.
I have known Bertram long; there doth not breathe
A soul more full of honour.
Cal. It may be so:
I apprehend less treachery than weakness;
Yet as he has no mistress, and no wife
To work upon his milkiness of spirit, 80
He may go through the ordeal; it is well
He is an orphan, friendless save in us:
A woman or a child had made him less
Than either in resolve.
I. Ber. Such ties are not
For those who are called to the high destinies
Which purify corrupted commonwealths;
We must forget all feelings save the one,
We must resign all passions save our purpose,
We must behold no object save our country,
And only look on Death as beautiful, 90
So that the sacrifice ascend to Heaven,
And draw down Freedom on her evermore.
Cal. But if we fail — —
I. Ber. They never fail who die
In a great cause: the block may soak their gore:
Their heads may sodden in the sun; their limbs
Be strung to city gates and castle walls —
But still their Spirit walks abroad. Though years
Elapse, and others share as dark a doom,
They but augment the deep and sweeping thoughts
Which overpower all others, and conduct 100
The world at last to Freedom. What were we,
If Brutus had not lived? He died in giving
Rome liberty, but left a deathless lesson —
A name which is a virtue, and a Soul
Which multiplies itself throughout all time,
When wicked men wax mighty, and a state
Turns servile. He and his high friend were styled
“The last of Romans!” Let us be the first
Of true Venetians, sprung from Roman sires.
Cal. Our fathers did not fly from Attila 110
Into these isles, where palaces have sprung
On banks redeemed from the rude ocean’s ooze,
To own a thousand despots in his place.
Better bow down before the Hun, and call
A Tartar lord, than these swoln silkworms masters!
The first at least was man, and used his sword
As sceptre: these unmanly creeping things
Command our swords, and rule us with a word
As with a spell.
I. Ber. It shall be broken soon.
You say that all things are in readiness; 120
To-day I have not been the usual round,
And why thou knowest; but thy vigilance
Will better have supplied my care: these orders
In recent council to redouble now
Our efforts to repair the galleys, have
Lent a fair colour to the introduction
Of many of our cause into the arsenal,
As new artificers for their equipment,
Or fresh recruits obtained in haste to man
The hoped-for fleet. — Are all supplied with arms? 130
Cal. All who were deemed trust-worthy: there are some
Whom it were well to keep in ignorance
Till it be time to strike, and then supply them;
When in the heat and hurry of the hour
They have no opportunity to pause,
But needs must on with those who will surround them.
I. Ber. You have said well. Have you remarked all such?
Cal. I’ve noted most; and caused the other chiefs
To use like caution in their companies.
As far as I have seen, we are enough 140
To make the enterprise secure, if ‘tis
Commenced to-morrow; but, till ‘tis begun,
Each hour is pregnant with a thousand perils.
I. Ber. Let the Sixteen meet at the wonted hour,
Except Soranzo, Nicoletto Blondo,
And Marco Giuda, who will keep their watch
Within the arsenal, and hold all ready,
Expectant of the signal we will fix on.
Cal. We will not fail.
I. Ber. Let all the rest be there;
I have a stranger to present to them. 150
Cal. A stranger! doth he know the secret?
I. Ber. Yes.
Cal. And have you dared to peril your friends’ lives
On a rash confidence in one we know not?
I. Ber. I have risked no man’s life except my own —
Of that be certain: he is one who may
Make our assurance doubly sure, according
His aid; and if reluctant, he no less
Is in our power: he comes alone with me,
And cannot ‘scape us; but he will not swerve.
Cal. I cannot judge of this until I know him: 160
Is he one of our order?
I. Ber. Aye, in spirit,
Although a child of Greatness; he is one
Who would become a throne, or overthrow one —
One who has done great deeds, and seen great changes;
No tyrant, though bred up to tyranny;
Valiant in war, and sage in council; noble
In nature, although haughty; quick, yet wary:
Yet for all this, so full of certain passions,
That if once stirred and baffled, as he has been
Upon the tenderest points, there is no Fury 170
In Grecian story like to that which wrings
His vitals with her burning hands, till he
Grows capable of all things for revenge;
And add too, that his mind is liberal,
He sees and feels the people are oppressed,
And shares their sufferings. Take him all in all,
We have need of such, and such have need of us.
Cal. And what part would you have him take with us?
I. Ber. It may be, that of Chief.
Cal. What! and resign
Your own command as leader?
I. Ber. Even so. 180
My object is to make your cause end well,
And not to push myself to power. Experience,
Some skill, and your own choice, had marked me out
To act in trust as your commander, till
Some worthier should appear: if I have found such
As you yourselves shall own more worthy, think you
That I would hesitate from selfish
ness,
And, covetous of brief authority,
Stake our deep interest on my single thoughts,
Rather than yield to one above me in 190
All leading qualities? No, Calendaro,
Know your friend better; but you all shall judge.
Away! and let us meet at the fixed hour.
Be vigilant, and all will yet go well.
Cal. Worthy Bertuccio, I have known you ever
Trusty and brave, with head and heart to plan
What I have still been prompt to execute.
For my own part, I seek no other Chief;
What the rest will decide, I know not, but
I am with you, as I have ever been, 200
In all our undertakings. Now farewell,
Until the hour of midnight sees us meet. [Exeunt.
ACT III
Scene I. — Scene, the Space between the Canal and the Church of San Giovanni e San Paolo. An equestrian Statue before it. — A Gondola lies in the Canal at some distance.
Enter the Doge alone, disguised.
Doge (solus). I am before the hour, the hour whose voice,
Pealing into the arch of night, might strike
These palaces with ominous tottering,
And rock their marbles to the corner-stone,
Waking the sleepers from some hideous dream
Of indistinct but awful augury
Of that which will befall them. Yes, proud city!
Thou must be cleansed of the black blood which makes thee
A lazar-house of tyranny: the task
Is forced upon me, I have sought it not; 10
And therefore was I punished, seeing this
Patrician pestilence spread on and on,
Until at length it smote me in my slumbers,
And I am tainted, and must wash away
The plague spots in the healing wave. Tall fane!
Where sleep my fathers, whose dim statues shadow
The floor which doth divide us from the dead,
Where all the pregnant hearts of our bold blood,
Mouldered into a mite of ashes, hold
In one shrunk heap what once made many heroes, 20
When what is now a handful shook the earth —
Fane of the tutelar saints who guard our house!
Vault where two Doges rest — my sires! who died
The one of toil, the other in the field,
With a long race of other lineal chiefs
And sages, whose great labours, wounds, and state
I have inherited, — let the graves gape,
Till all thine aisles be peopled with the dead,
And pour them from thy portals to gaze on me!
I call them up, and them and thee to witness 30
What it hath been which put me to this task —
Their pure high blood, their blazon-roll of glories,
Their mighty name dishonoured all in me,