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My lord, my sovereign, my poor father's friend,
The mighty in the field, the sage in council,
Unsay the words of this man!-Thou art silent!
Ben. He hath already own'd to his own guilt,
Nor, as thou see'st, doth he deny it now. [years,
Ang. Ay, but he must not die! Spare his few❘
Which grief and shame will soon cut down to days!
One day of baffled crime must not efface
Near sixteen lustres crowded with brave acts.

Ben. His doom must be fulfill'd without remisOf time or penalty—'t is a decree.

[sion
Ang. He hath been guilty, but there may be
Ben. Not in this case with justice. [mercy.
Ang.
Alas! signor,

He who is only just is cruel; who
Upon the earth would live were all judged justly?
Ben. His punishment is safety to the state.
Ang. He was a subject, and hath served the state;
He was your general, and hath saved the state;
He is your sovereign, and hath ruled the state.
One of the Council. He is a traitor, and betray'd
the state.
[state
Ang. And, but for him, there now had been no
To save or to destroy; and you, who sit
There to pronounce the death of your deliverer,
Had now been groaning at a Moslem oar,
Or digging in the Hunnish mines in fetters!
One of the Council. No, lady, there are others who
Rather than breathe in slavery! [would die
If there are so

Ang.
Within these walls, thou art not of the number:
The truly brave are generous to the fallen!-
Is there no hope?

Ben.

Lady, it cannot be.

Ang. (turning to the Doge). Then die, Faliero!

since it must be so;

But with the spirit of my father's friend.
Thou hast been guilty of a great offence,
Half cancell'd by the harshness of these men.

I would have sued to them, have pray'd to them,
Have begg'd as famish'd mendicants for bread,
Have wept as they will cry unto their God
For mercy, and be answer'd as they answer,-
Had it been fitting for thy name or mine,
And if the cruelty in their cold eyes
Had not announced the heartless wrath within.
Then, as a prince, address thee to thy doom! [die!
Doge. I have lived too long not to know how to
Thy suing to these men were but the bleating

Of the lamb to the butcher, or the cry

Of seamen to the surge: I would not take
A life eternal, granted at the hands
Of wretches, from whose monstrous villanies
I sought to free the groaning nations!
Michel Steno.
Doge,
A word with thee, and with this noble lady,
Whom I have grievously offended. Would
Sorrow, or shame, or penance on my part,
Could cancel the inexorable past!

But since that cannot be, as Christians let us
Say farewell, and in peace: with full contrition
I crave, not pardon, but compassion from you,
And give, however weak, my prayers for both.
Ang. Sage Benintende, now chief judge of Venice,
I speak to thee in answer to yon signor.
Inform the ribald Steno, that his words
Ne'er weigh'd in mind with Loredano's daughter,
Further than to create a moment's pity
For such as he is: would that others had
Despised him as I pity! I prefer
My honour to a thousand lives, could such
Be multiplied in mine, but would not have
A single life of others lost for that
Which nothing human can impugn-the sense
Of virtue, looking not to what is call'd
A good name for reward, but to itself.
To me the scorner's words were as the wind
Unto the rock: but as there arc-alas!
Spirits more sensitive, on which such things
Light as the whirlwind on the waters; souls
To whom dishonour's shadow is a substance
More terrible than death, here and hereafter;
Men whose vice is to start at vice's scoffing,
And who, though proof against all blandish ments
Of pleasure, and all pangs of pain, are feeble
When the proud name on which they pinnacled
Their hopes is breathed on, jealous as the eagle
Of her high aiery; let what we now
Behold, and feel, and suffer, be a lesson
To wretches how they tamper in their spleen
With beings of a higher order. Insects
Have made the lion mad ere now; a shaft
I' the heel o'erthrew the bravest of the brave;
A wife's dishonour was the bane of Troy;

A wife's dishonour unking'd Rome for ever;
An injured husband brought the Gauls to Clusium,
And thence to Rome, which perish'd for a time;
An obscene gesture cost Caligula

His life, while Earth yet bore his cruelties;

A virgin's wrong made Spain a Moorish province;
And Steno's lie, couch'd in two worthless lines,
Hath decimated Venice, put in peril

A senate which hath stood eight hundred years,
Discrown'd a prince, cut off his crownless head,
And forged new fetters for a groaning people!
Let the poor wretch, like to the courtesan
Who fired Persepolis, be proud of this,
If it so please him-'t were a pride fit for him!
But let him not insult the last hours of
Him, who, whate'er he now is, was a hero,
By the intrusion of his very prayers;
Nothing of good can come from such a source,
Nor would we aught with him, nor now, nor ever:

We leave him to himself, that lowest depth
Of human baseness. Pardon is for men,
And not for reptiles-we have none for Steno,
And no resentment: things like him must sting,
And higher beings suffer; 't is the charter
Of life. The man who dies by the adder's fang
May have the crawler crush'd, but feels no anger:
'T was the worm's nature; and some men are
worms

In soul, more than the living things of tombs. Doge (to Ben.). Signor! complete that which you deem your duty.

Ben. Before we can proceed upon that duty,
We would request the princess to withdraw;
'T will move her too much to be witness to it.
Ang. I know it will, and yet I must endure it,
For 't is a part of mine-I will not quit,
Except by force, my husband's side.-Proceed!
Nay, fear not either shriek, or sigh, or tear;
Though my heart burst it shall be silent.-Speak!
I have that within which shall o'ermaster all.
Ben. Marino Faliero, Doge of Venice,
Count of Val di Marino, Senator,

And some time General of the Fleet and Army,
Noble Venetian, many times and oft
Intrusted by the state with high employments,
Even to the highest, listen to the sentence.
Convict by many witnesses and proofs,
And by thine own confession, of the guilt
Of treachery and treason, yet unheard of
Until this trial-the decree is death.
Thy goods are confiscate unto the state,
Thy name is razed from out her records, save
Upon a public day of thanksgiving
For this our most miraculous deliverance,
When thou art noted in our calendars
With earthquakes, pestilence, and foreign foes,
And the great enemy of man, as subject
Of grateful masses for Heaven's grace in snatching
Our lives and country from thy wickedness.
The place wherein as Doge thou shouldst be painted,
With thine illustrious predecessors, is
To be left vacant, with a death-black veil
Flung over these dim words engraved beneath,-
"This place is of Marino Faliero,
Decapitated for his crimes."

Doge.

"His crimes!" But let it be so ;-it will be in vain. The veil which blackens o'er this blighted name, And hides, or seems to hide, these lineaments, Shall draw more gazers than the thousand portraits Which glitter round it in their pictured trappingsYour delegated slaves-the people's tyrants! "Decapitated for his crimes!"-What crimes? Were it not better to record the facts, So that the contemplator might approve, Or at the least learn whence the crimes arose ? When the beholder knows a Doge conspired, Let him be told the cause-it is your history. Ben. Time must reply to that; our sons will judge Their fathers' judgment, which I now pronounce. As Doge, clad in the ducal robes and cap, Thou shalt be led hence to the Giant's Staircase, Where thou and all our princes are invested;

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[uie.

The hour may be a hard one, but 't will end.
Have I aught else to undergo save death?
Ben. You have nought to do, except confess and
The priest is robed, the scimitar is bare,
And both await without. But, above all,
Think not to speak unto the people; they
Are now by thousands swarming at the gates,
But these are closed: the Ten, the Avogadori,
The Giunta, and the chief men of the Forty,
Alone will be beholders of thy doom,
And they are ready to attend the Doge.
Doge. The Doge!

[shalt die

Ben. Yes, Doge, thou hast lived and thou A sovereign; till the moment which precedes The separation of that head and trunk, That ducal crown and head shall be united. Thou hast forgot thy dignity in deigning To plot with petty traitors; not so we, Who in the very punishment acknowledge The prince. Thy vile accomplices have died The dog's death, and the wolf's; but thou shalt fall As falls the lion by the hunters, girt By those who feel a proud compassion for thee, And mourn even the inevitable death Provoked by thy wild wrath and regal fierceness Now we remit thee to thy preparation : Let it be brief, and we ourselves will be Thy guides unto the place where first we were United to thee as thy subjects, and

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Doge. Long years ago-so long, they are a doubt In memory, and yet they live in annals:

When I was in my youth, and served the senate
And signory as podesta and captain
Of the town of Treviso, on a day
of festival, the sluggish bishop who

Convey'd the Host aroused my rash young anger
By strange delay, and arrogant reply

To my reproof: I raised my hand and smote him,
Until he reel'd beneath his holy burthen;
And as he rose from earth again, he raised

His tremulous hands in pious wrath towards
Heaven.
[him,
Thence pointing to the Host, which had fallen from
He turn'd to me, and said, "The hour will come
When he thou hast o'erthrown shall overthrow
The glory shall depart from out thy house, [thee:
The wisdom shall be shaken from thy soul,
And in thy best maturity of mind

A madness of the heart shall seize upon thee;
Passion shall tear thee when all passions cease
In other men, or mellow into virtues;
And majesty, which decks all other heads,
Shall crown to leave thee headless; honours shall
But prove to thee the heralds of destruction,
And hoary hairs of shame, and both of death,
But not such death as fits an aged man."
Thus saying, he pass'd on.-That hour is come.
Ang. And with this warning couldst thou not
To avert the fatal moment, and atone, [have striven
By penitence, for that which thou hadst done?
Doge. I own the words went to my heart, so much
That I remember'd them amid the maze
Of life, as if they form'd a spectral voice,
Which shook me in a supernatural dream;
And I repented; but 't was not for me
To pull in resolution: what must be

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I could not change, and would not fear.-Nay more,
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 such
Unwonted density went on before
The Bucentaur, like the columnar cloud
Which usher'd Israel out of Egypt, till
The pilot was misled, and disembark'd us
Between the pillars of Saint Mark's, where 't is
The custom of the state to put to death

Its criminals, instead of touching at
The Riva della Paglia, as the wont is,-
So that all Venice shudder'd at the omen.
Ang. Ah! little boots it now to recollect
Such things.

Doge. And yet I find a comfort in
The thought, that these things are the work of Fate;
For I would rather yield to gods than men,

Or cling to any creed of destiny,

Rather than deem these mortals, most of whom
I know to be as worthless as the dust,
And weak as worthless, more than instruments
Of an o'erruling power; they in themselves
Were all incapable-they could not be
Victors of him who oft had conquer'd for them.
Ang. Employ the minutes left in aspirations
Of a more healing nature, and in peace
Even with these wretches take thy flight to heaven.
Doge. I am at peace: the peace of certainty

That a sure hour will come, when their sons' sons,
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.

[still

Ang. Speak not thus now: the surge of passion
Sweeps o'er thee to the last; thou dost deceive
Thyself, and canst not injure them-be calmer.
Doge. I stand within eternity, and see
Into 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 embrace-
Forgive the old man who hath been to thee
A 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, and name,
Which generally leave some flowers to bloom
Even o'er the grave, I have nothing left, not even
A little love, or friendship, or esteem,
No, not enough to extract an epitaph
From ostentatious kinsmen; in one hour
I have uprooted all my former life,
And outlived everything, except thy heart,
The pure, the good, the gentle, which will oft
With unimpair'd but not a clamorous grief
Still keep-Thou turn'st so pale!-Alas! she faints,

She has no breath, no pulse !-Guards! lend your
I cannot leave her thus, and yet 't is better, [aid-
Since every lifeless moment spares a pang.
When she shakes off this temporary death,

I shall be with the Eternal.-Call her women-
One look!-how cold her hand -as cold as mine
Shall be ere she recovers.-Gently tend her,
And take my last thanks--I am ready now.

[The Attendants of ANGIOLINA enter, and sur-
round their Mistress, who has fainted.-Exeunt
the DOGE, Guards, &c. &c.

SCENE III.

The Court of the Ducal Palace; the outer gates are shut against the people.-The DOGE enters in his ducal robes, in procession with the Council of Ten and other Patricians, attended by the Guards, till they arrive at the top of the "Giants' Staircase" (where the Doges took the oaths); the Executioner is stationed there with his sword.-On arriving, a Chief of the Ten takes off the ducal cap from the Doge's head.

Doge. So now the Doge is nothing, and at last I am again Marino Faliero :

"T is well to be so, though but for a moment.
Here was I crown'd, and here, bear witness, Hea-
With how much more contentment I resign [ven!
That shining mockery, the ducal bauble,
Than I received the fatal ornament.

One of the Ten. Thou tremblest, Faliero!
Doge.
"T is with age, then,
Ben. Faliero! hast thou aught further to com-
Compatible with justice, to the senate? [mend,
Doge. I would commend my nephew to their
My consort to their justice; for methinks [mercy,
My death, and such a death, might settle all
Between the state and me.

Ben. They shall be cared for; Even notwithstanding thine unheard-of crime. Doge. Unheard of! ay, there 's not a history But shows a thousand crown'd conspirators Against the people; but to set them free, One sovereign only died, and one is dying. Ben. And who were they who fell in such a cause? Doge. The King of Sparta and the Doge of VeAgis and Faliero! [nice

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May I speak?

Thou may'st;

To utter or to do?
Doge.
Ben.
But recollect the people are without,
Beyond the compass of the human voice.
Doge. I speak to Time and to Eternity,
Of which I grow a portion, not to man.
Ye elements! in which to be resolved
I hasten, let my voice be as a spirit
Upon you! Ye blue waves! which bore my banner,
Ye winds! which flutter'd o'er as if you loved it,
And fill'd my swelling sails as they were wafted
To many a triumph! Thou, my native earth,
Which I have bled for! and thou, foreign earth,
Which drank this willing blood from many a wound!
Ye stones, in which my gore will not sink, but

Reek up to heaven! Yeskies, which will receive it!
Thou sun! which shinest on these things, and
Thou!

Who kindlest and who quenchest suns!-Attest!
I am not innocent-but are these guiltless?
I perish, but not unavenged: far ages
Float up from the abyss of time to be,
And show these eyes, before they close, the doom
Of this proud city, and I leave my curse
On her and hers for ever! Yes, the hours
Are silently engendering of the day,
When she, who built 'gainst Attila a bulwark,
Shall yield, and bloodlessly and basely yield,
Unto a bastard Attila, without
Shedding so much blood in her last defence,
As these old veins, oft drain'd in shielding her,

Shall pour in sacrifice.-She shall be bought
And sold, and be an appanage to those
Who shall despise her!-She shall stoop to be
A province for an empire, petty town
In lieu of capital, with slaves for senates,
Beggars for nobles, panders for a people!
Then when the Hebrew 's in thy palaces,
The Hun in thy high places, and the Greek
Walks o'er thy mart, and smiles on it for his:
When thy patricians beg their bitter bread
In narrow streets, and in their shameful need
Make their nobility a plea for pity;
Then, when the few who still retain a wreck
Of their great fathers' heritage shall fawn
Round a barbarian Vice of Kings' Vice-gerent,
Even in the palace where they sway'd as sovereigns,
Even in the palace where they slew their sovereign,
Proud of some name they have disgraced, or sprung
From an adulteress boastful of her guilt
With some large gondolier or foreign soldier,
Shall bear about their bastardy in triumph
To the third spurious generation;-when
Thy sons are in the lowest scale of being,
Slaves turn'd o'er to the vanquish'd by the victors,
Despised by cowards for greater cowardice,
And scorn'd even by the vicious for such vices
As in the monstrous grasp of their conception
Defy all codes to image or to name them;
Then, when of Cyprus, now thy subject kingdom,
All thine inheritance shall be her shame
Entail'd on thy less virtuous daughters, grown
A wider proverb for worse prostitution;-
When all the ills of conquer'd states shall cling thee,
Vice without splendour, sin without relief
Even from the gloss of love to smooth it o'er,
But in its stead, coarse lusts of habitude,
Prurient yet passionless, cold studied lewdness,
Depraving nature's frailty to an art;-
When these and more are heavy on thee, when
Smiles without mirth, and pastimes without plea-
Youth without honour, age without respect, [sure,
Meanness and weakness, and a sense of woe
'Gainst which thou wilt not strive, and dar'st not
murmur,

Have made thee last and worst of peopled deserts,
Then, in the last gasp of thine agony,
Amidst thy many murders, think of mine!
Thou den of drunkards with the blood of princes!

Gehenna of the waters! thou sea Sodom!

Thus I devote thee to the infernal gods!

Thee and thy serpent seed!

[Here the DOGE turns and addresses the Executioner. Slave, do thine office! Strike as I struck the foe! Strike as I would Have struck those tyrants! Strike deep as my Strike-and but once! [curse! [The DOGE throws himself upon his knees, and as the Executioner raises his sword the scene closes. SCENE IV.

The Piazza and Piazzetta of St. Mark's.-The people in crowds gathered round the grated gates of the Ducal Palace which are shut.

First Citizen I have gain'd the gate, and can dis-
cern the Ten,
[Doge.

Robed in their gowns of state, ranged round the
Second Cit I cannot reach thee with mine utmost
How is it? Let us hear at least, since sight [effort.
Is thus prohibited unto the people,
Except the occupiers of those bars.

[they strip

First Cit. One has approach'd the Doge, and now The ducal bonnet from his head-and now He raises his keen eyes to heaven; I see Them glitter, and his lips move-Hush! hush!-no, 'T was but a murmur-Curse upon the distance! His words are inarticulate, but the voice Swells up like mutter'd thunder; would we could But gather a sole sentence ! [sound.

Second Cit. Hush! we perhaps may catch the

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I cannot hear him.-How his hoary hair
Streams on the wind like foam upon the wave!
Now-now-he kneels-and now they form a circle
Round him, and all is hidden-but I see
The lifted sword in air-Ah! hark! it falls!
[The people murmur.

Third Cit. Then they have murder'd him who
would have freed us.
[ever.

Fourth Cit. He was a kind man to the commons Fifth Cit. Wisely they did to keep their portals barr'd.

Would we had known the work they were preparing
Ere we were summon'd here- we would have
Weapons, and forced them!
[brought
Sixth Cit.
Are you sure he's dead?
First Cit. I saw the sword fall-Lo! what have
we here?

Enter on the Balcony of the Palace which fronts St. Mark's Place a CHIEF OF THE TEN, with a bloody sword. He waves it thrice before the People, and exclaims,

"Justice hath dealt upon the mighty Traitor!"

[The gates are opened; the populace rush in towards the "Giants' Staircase," where the execution has taken place. The foremost of them exclaims to those behind,

"The gory head rolls down the Giants' Steps!"

[The curtain falls.

SARDANAPALUS:

A TRAGEDY.

TO

THE ILLUSTRIOUS GOETHE

A STRANGER PRESUMES TO OFFER THE HOMAGE OF A

LITERARY VASSAL TO HIS LIEGE LORD, THE FIRST OF EXISTING WRITERS,
WHO HAS CREATED THE LITERATURE OF HIS OWN COUNTRY,
AND ILLUSTRATED THAT OF EUROPE.

THE UNWORTHY PRODUCTION

WHICH THE AUTHOR VENTURES TO INSCRIBE TO HIM IS ENTITLED,

SARDANAPALUS.

PREFACE.

IN publishing the following Tragedies* I have | public opinion has been already expressed. With

only to repeat, that they were not composed with the most remote view to the stage. On the attempt made by the managers in a former instance, the

*["Sardanapalus " and " The Two Foscari."]

regard to my own private feelings, as it seems that they are to stand for nothing, I shall say nothing.

For the historical foundation of the following compositions the reader is referred to the Notes.

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