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Springs to the oar, and back again he goes—
Into that very Chamber! there to lie

In his old resting-place, the bed of steel;

And thence look up (Five long, long years of Grief
Have not killed either) on his wretched Sire,

Still in that seat-as though he had not stirred;
Immovable, and muffled in his cloak.

But now he comes, convicted of a crime

Great by the laws of VENICE. Night and day,
Brooding on what he had been, what he was,
His longing-fits
Thickened upon him. His desire for home

'Twas more than he could bear.

Became a madness; and, resolved to go,

If but to die, in his despair he writes

A letter to the sovereign-prince of MILAN,
(To him whose name, among the greatest now,*

* Francesco Sforza. His father, when at work in the field, was accosted by some soldiers and asked if he would enlist. 'Let me throw my mattock on that oak,' he replied,' and, if it remains there, I will.' It remained there; and the peasant, regarding it as a sign, enlisted. He became soldier, general, prince; and his grandson, in the palace at Milan, said to Paulus Jovius, 'You behold these guards and this grandeur. I owe every thing to the branch of an oak, the branch that held my grandfather's mattock.'

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know all?

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
I have transgressed, offended wilfully ;*
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

(What could they less?) is granted.

prayer

In a hall

Open and crowded by the common herd,

'Twas there a Wife and her four sons yet young,

It was a high crime to solicit the intercession of any Foreign Prince.

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 death!
To meet him, and to part with him for ever!—
Time and their wrongs had changed them all, him most!
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.'*

GIACOMO

That night embarked; sent to an early grave

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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

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

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,
Hungering and thirsting, still unsatisfied;

One of a name illustrious as thine own!

One of the Ten! one of the Invisible Three! *

'Twas LOREDANO. When the whelps were gone,

He would dislodge the Lion from his den;

* The State-Inquisitors. For an account of their Authority, see page 75.

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And, leading on the pack he long had led,
The miserable pack that ever howled
Against fallen Greatness, moved that FOSCARI
Be Doge no longer; urging his great age;
Calling the loneliness of Grief neglect
Of duty, sullenness against the laws.

- I am most willing to retire,' said he :
* But I have sworn, and cannot of myself.
Do with me as ye please.He was deposed,
He, who had reigned so long and gloriously ;
His ducal bonnet taken from his brow,
His robes stript off, his seal and signet-ring
Broken before him. But now nothing moved
The meekness of his soul. All things alike!
Among the six that came with the decree,
FOSCARI saw one he knew not, and inquired
His name. ‘I am the son of MARCO MEMMO.'

'Ah,' he replied, 'thy father was my friend.'

And now he

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goes. It is the hour and past.

I have no business here.'-—————' But wilt thou not

Avoid the gazing crowd? That way is private.'

'No! as I entered, so will I retire.'

And, leaning on his staff, he left the House,

His residence for five-and-thirty-years,

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