The Poetical Works of Samuel Rogers

ITALY.

and observe
ber. Now a sigh,
. Then all is still.
dgment there!

r country and grown grey at embassies,

and peace;
adorn

how what she was!

ack the arras is,

Yet their looks

hing there like grief,

Still that noise,

Exchange; and I have often walked

of Antonio and Bassanio it was second , writing in 1580, "sono ogni giorno

novesi, Milanesi, Spagnuoli, Turchi,

li vi concorrono in tanta copia, che
It was there that the

ll' universo.

Shylock refers to it when he says:

a time and oft,

rated me--"

vere on every tongue; and continue

medies of Goldoni, and particularly ng, called Rialto Nuovo; and so bricato dopo il vecchio." quale," says Sanuto, "fu messer lo sisted of ten Patricians, at the last The Two Foscari were published,

If proofs they be, were in the lion's mouth

Dropt by some hand unseen; and he, himself,
Must sit and look on a beloved son

Suffering the Question.

Twice to die in peace,

To save, while yet he could, a falling House,
And turn the hearts of his fell Adversaries,
Those who had now, like hell-hounds in full cry,
Chased down his last of four, twice did he ask

To lay aside the Crown, and they refused,
An oath exacting, never more to ask;
And there he sits, a spectacle of woe,
Condemned in bitter mockery to wear
The bauble he had sighed for.

Once again

The screw is turned; and, as it turns, the Son Looks up, and, in a faint and broken tone, Murmurs "My Father!" The old man shrinks b

And in his mantle muffles up his face.

"Art thou not guilty?" says a voice, that once
Would greet the Sufferer long before they met ;
"Art thou not guilty ?"-"No! Indeed I am no
But all is unavailing. In that Court

Groans are confessions; Patience, Fortitude,
The work of Magic; and, released, revived,
For Condemnation, from his Father's lips
He hears the sentence, "Banishment to CANDIA
Death, if he leaves it." And the bark sets sail
And he is gone from all he loves in life!
Gone in the dead of night-unseen of any—
Without a word, a look of tenderness,
To be called up, when, in his lonely hours,

He would indulge in weeping. Like a ghost,
Day after day, year after year, he haunts.
An ancient rampart that o'erhangs the sea;
Gazing on vacancy, and hourly there

ere in the lion's mouth d unseen; and he, himself, na beloved son

Twice to die in peace,

e could, a falling House,
of his fell Adversaries,

like hell-hounds in full cry,

of four, twice did he ask

wn, and they refused,

ver more to ask;

pectacle of woe,

mockery to wear
hed for.

Once again

and, as it turns, the Son

int and broken tone,

!" The old man shrinks back,

les up his face.

says a voice, that once
er long before they met;
-"No! Indeed I am not!"

In that Court

Patience, Fortitude,
d, released, revived,
his Father's lips
Banishment to CANDIA.
And the bark sets sail;
e loves in life!

-unseen of any-
tenderness,
This lonely hours,
Ing. Like a ghost,
ar, he haunts

rhangs the sea;

arly there

1 She was a Contarini; a name coeval with the Republic, and illus eight Doges. On the occasion of their marriage the Bùcentaur came splendour; and a bridge of boats was thrown across the Canal Grand Bridegroom and his retinue of three hundred horse. Sanuto dwells with on the costliness of the dresses and the magnificence of the processions by water. The tournaments in the Place of St. Mark lasted three days, attended by thirty thousand people.

A letter to the sovereign prince of MILAN,
(To him whose name, among the greatest now,'
Had perished, blotted out at once and rased,
But for the rugged limb of an old oak,)
Soliciting his influence with the State,

And drops it to be found.-"Would ye know all?
I have transgressed, offended wilfully;2
And am prepared to suffer as I ought.
But let me, let me, if but for an hour,
(Ye must consent for all of you are sons,
Most of you husbands, fathers,) let me first
Indulge the natural feelings of a man,
And, ere I die, if such my sentence be,
Press to my heart ('tis all I ask of you)
My wife, my children-and my aged mother-
Say, is she yet alive?"

He is condemned

To go ere set of sun, go whence he came,
A banished man; and for a year to breathe
The vapour of a dungeon. But his prayer
(What could they less ?) is granted.

In a hall

Open and crowded by the common herd,
'Twas there a Wife and her four sons yet young,
A Mother borne along, life ebbing fast,
And an old Doge, mustering his strength in vain,
Assembled now, sad privilege, to meet

One so long lost, one who for them had braved,
For them had sought-death, and yet worse than de

1 Francesco Sforza. His father, when at work in the field, was accost soldiers and asked if he would enlist. "Let me throw my mattock on th replied; "and if it remains there, I will." It remained there; and t regarding it as a sign, enlisted. He became soldier, general, prince grandson, in the palace at Milan, said to Paulus Jovius, "You behold t and this grandeur. I owe everything to the branch of an oak, the held my grandfather's mattock."

2 It was a high crime to solicit the intercession of any foreign prince.

To meet him, and to part with him for ever!—
Time and their wrongs had changed them all, him mo

Yet when the Wife, the Mother looked again,

'Twas he 'twas he himself 'twas GIACOMO!

And all clung round him, weeping bitterly;
Weeping the more, because they wept in vain.

Unnerved, and now unsettled in his mind.

From long and exquisite pain, he sobs and cries,
Kissing the old Man's cheek, "Help me, my Father!
Let me, I pray thee, live once more among ye :
Let me go home."--"My Son," returns the Doge,
"Obey. Thy Country wills it."1

GIACOMO

That night embarked; sent to an early grave
For one whose dying words, "The deed was mine!
He is most innocent! 'Twas I who did it!"
Came when he slept in peace. The ship, that sailed
Swift as the winds with his deliverance,

Bore back a lifeless corse. Generous as brave,

Affection, kindness, the sweet offices

Of duty and love were from his tenderest years
To him as needful as his daily bread;
And to become a by-word in the streets,
Bringing a stain on those who gave him life,
And those, alas, now worse than fatherless-
To be proclaimed a ruffian, a night-stabber,
He on whom none before had breathed reproach—
He lived but to disprove it. That hope lost,
Death followed. Oh, if Justice be in Heaven,
A day must come of ample Retribution!

Then was thy cup, old Man, full to the brim.
But thou wert yet alive; and there was one,
The soul and spring of all that Enmity,

Who would not leave thee; fastening on thy flank,

1 "Va e ubbidisci a quello che vuole la terra, e non cercar più oltre."

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