The Works of Lord Byron Volume IV Part 66

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Till n.o.bler game is quarried: his offence Was a mere ebullition of the vice, The general corruption generated By the foul Aristocracy: he could not-- He dared not in more honourable days Have risked it. I have merged all private wrath Against him in the thought of our great purpose.

A slave insults me--I require his punishment From his proud master's hands; if he refuse it, 410 The offence grows his, and let him answer it.

_Cal_. Yet, as the immediate cause of the alliance Which consecrates our undertaking more, I owe him such deep grat.i.tude, that fain I would repay him as he merits; may I?

_Doge_. You would but lop the hand, and I the head; You would but smite the scholar, I the master; You would but punish Steno, I the Senate.

I cannot pause on individual hate, In the absorbing, sweeping, whole revenge, 420 Which, like the sheeted fire from Heaven, must blast Without distinction, as it fell of yore, Where the Dead Sea hath quenched 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! 430

[_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; Caesars have fallen, and even patrician hands Have crushed dictators, as the popular steel Has reached patricians: but, until this hour, What Prince has plotted for his people's freedom?

Or risked a life to liberate his subjects?

For ever, and for ever, they conspire 440 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 glut_, the never-gorged Leviathan!

Now, my Lord, to our enterprise;--'tis 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, 450 And many deeds and days--the Senators?

_I. Ber_. You pa.s.sed their sentence, and it is a just one.

_Doge_. Aye, so it seems, and so it is to _you_; You are a patriot, a plebeian Gracchus--[ea]

The rebel's oracle, the people's tribune-- I blame you not--you act in your vocation;[430]

They smote you, and oppressed you, and despised you; 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: 460 You grew not up with them, nor laughed, nor wept, Nor held a revel in their company; Ne'er smiled to see them smile, nor claimed 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; 470 And can I see them dabbled o'er with blood?

Each stab to them will seem my suicide.

_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 480 Your own and that of others; can you shrink then From a few drops from veins of h.o.a.ry vampires, Who but give back what they have drained from millions?

_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, 490 '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, strewed with their bleeding fruit, And crush their blossoms into barrenness: _This will_ I--must I--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, 500 I understand it not: why should you change?

You acted, and you act, on your free will.

_Doge_. Aye, there it is--_you_ feel not, nor do I, 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 510 In this surpa.s.sing ma.s.sacre, shall be, Shall see and feel--oh G.o.d! oh G.o.d! '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 _h.e.l.l_ within me and around, And like the Demon who believes and trembles 520 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, St. Mark's great bell shall wake all Venice, Except her slaughtered 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.

_I. Ber_. With all my soul!

Keep a firm rein upon these bursts of pa.s.sion; 530 Remember what these men have dealt to thee, And that this sacrifice will be succeeded By ages of prosperity and freedom To this unshackled city: a true tyrant[eb]

Would have depopulated empires, nor Have felt the strange compunction which hath wrung you To punish a few traitors to the people.

Trust me, such were a pity more misplaced Than the late mercy of the state to Steno.

_Doge_. Man, thou hast struck upon the chord which jars 540 All nature from my heart. Hence to our task!

[_Exeunt_.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.--_Palazzo of the Patrician_ LIONI.[431] LIONI _laying aside the mask and cloak which the Venetian n.o.bles 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 cheered 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, oppressed me, And through my spirit chilled my blood, until A damp like Death rose o'er my brow; I strove To laugh the thought away, but 'twould not be; 10 Through all the music ringing in my ears[ec]

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, Das.h.i.+ng against the outward Lido's bulwark: So that I left the festival before It reached 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_. Yes, my Lord: 20 Command you no refreshment?

_Lioni_. Nought, save sleep, Which will not be commanded. 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 hath brightened. What a stillness!

[_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, 30 Spread over the reluctant gloom which haunts Those vast and dimly-latticed galleries A dazzling ma.s.s of artificial light, Which showed 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, Pranked forth in all the pride of ornament, Forgot itself, and trusting to the falsehood 40 Of the indulgent beams, which show, yet hide, Believed itself forgotten, and was fooled.

There Youth, which needed not, nor thought of such Vain adjuncts, lavished its true bloom, and health, And bridal beauty, in the unwholesome press Of flushed and crowded wa.s.sailers, and wasted Its hours of rest in dreaming this was pleasure, And so shall waste them till the sunrise streams On sallow cheeks and sunken eyes, which should not Have worn this aspect yet for many a year.[432] 50 The music, and the banquet, and the wine, The garlands, the rose odours, and the flowers, The sparkling eyes, and flas.h.i.+ng ornaments, The white arms and the raven hair, the braids And bracelets; swanlike bosoms, and the necklace, An India in itself, yet dazzling not 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 sylphlike, Suggesting the more secret symmetry[ed] 60 Of the fair forms which terminate so well-- All the delusion of the dizzy scene, Its false and true enchantments--Art and Nature, Which swam before my giddy eyes, that drank The sight of beauty as the parched pilgrim's On Arab sands the false mirage, which offers A lucid lake to his eluded thirst, Are gone. Around me are the stars and waters-- Worlds mirrored in the Ocean, goodlier sight[ee]

Than torches glared back by a gaudy gla.s.s; 70 And the great Element, which is to s.p.a.ce What Ocean is to Earth, spreads its blue depths, Softened with the first breathings of the spring; The high Moon sails upon her beauteous way, Serenely smoothing o'er the lofty walls Of those tall piles and sea-girt palaces,[ef]

Whose porphyry pillars, and whose costly fronts, Fraught with the Orient spoil of many marbles, Like altars ranged along the broad ca.n.a.l, Seem each a trophy of some mighty deed 80 Reared up from out the waters, scarce less strangely Than those more ma.s.sy and mysterious giants Of architecture, those t.i.tanian fabrics, Which point in Egypt's plains to times that have No other record. All is gentle: nought Stirs rudely; but, congenial with the night, Whatever walks is gliding like a spirit.

The tinklings of some vigilant guitars Of sleepless lovers to a wakeful mistress, And cautious opening of the cas.e.m.e.nt, showing 90 That he is not unheard; while her young hand, Fair as the moonlight of which it seems part, So delicately white, it trembles in The act of opening the forbidden lattice,[433]

To let in love through music, makes his heart Thrill like his lyre-strings at the sight; the dash Phosphoric of the oar, or rapid twinkle Of the far lights of skimming gondolas,[434]

And the responsive voices of the choir Of boatmen answering back with verse for verse; 100 Some dusky shadow checkering the Rialto; Some glimmering palace roof, or tapering spire,[eg]

Are all the sights and sounds which here pervade The ocean-born and earth-commanding City-- How sweet and soothing is this hour of calm!

I thank thee, Night! for thou hast chased away Those horrid bodements which, amidst the throng, I could not dissipate: and with the blessing Of thy benign and quiet influence, Now will I to my couch, although to rest 110 Is almost wronging such a night as this,---- [_A knocking is heard from without_.

Hark! what is that? or who at such a moment?[eh]

_Enter_ ANTONIO.

_Ant_. My Lord, a man without, on urgent business, Implores to be admitted.

_Lioni_. Is he a stranger?[ei]

_Ant_. His face is m.u.f.fled in his cloak, but both His voice and gestures seem familiar to me;[ej]

I craved his name, but this he seemed reluctant To trust, save to yourself; most earnestly He sues to be permitted to approach you.

The Works of Lord Byron Volume IV Part 66

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