The Works of Lord Byron Volume IV Part 61

Is't nothing to have brought into contempt A Prince before his people? to have failed In the respect accorded by Mankind To youth in woman, and old age in man?

To virtue in your s.e.x, and dignity In ours?--But let them look to it who have saved him.

_Ang_. Heaven bids us to forgive our enemies. 260

_Doge_. Doth Heaven forgive her own? Is there not h.e.l.l For wrath eternal?[df][405]

_Ang_. Do not speak thus wildly--[dg]

Heaven will alike forgive you and your foes.

_Doge_. Amen! May Heaven forgive them!

_Ang_. And will you?

_Doge_. Yes, when they are in Heaven!

_Ang_. And not till then?

_Doge_. What matters my forgiveness? an old man's, Worn out, scorned, spurned, abused; what matters then My pardon more than my resentment, both Being weak and worthless? I have lived too long; But let us change the argument.--My child! 270 My injured wife, the child of Loredano, The brave, the chivalrous, how little deemed Thy father, wedding thee unto his friend, That he was linking thee to shame!--Alas!

Shame without sin, for thou art faultless. Hadst thou But had a different husband, _any_ husband In Venice save the Doge, this blight, this brand, This blasphemy had never fallen upon thee.

So young, so beautiful, so good, so pure, To suffer this, and yet be unavenged! 280

_Ang_. I am too well avenged, for you still love me, And trust, and honour me; and all men know That you are just, and I am true: what more Could I require, or you command?

_Doge_. 'Tis well, And may be better; but whate'er betide, Be thou at least kind to my memory.

_Ang_. Why speak you thus?

_Doge_. It is no matter why; But I would still, whatever others think, Have your respect both now and in my grave.

_Ang_. Why should you doubt it? has it ever failed? 290

_Doge_. Come hither, child! I would a word with you.

Your father was my friend; unequal Fortune Made him my debtor for some courtesies Which bind the good more firmly: when, oppressed With his last malady, he willed our union, It was not to repay me, long repaid Before by his great loyalty in friendship; His object was to place your orphan beauty In honourable safety from the perils, Which, in this scorpion nest of vice, a.s.sail 300 A lonely and undowered maid. I did not Think with him, but would not oppose the thought Which soothed his death-bed.

_Ang_. I have not forgotten The n.o.bleness with which you bade me speak If my young heart held any preference Which would have made me happier; nor your offer To make my dowry equal to the rank Of aught in Venice, and forego all claim My father's last injunction gave you.

_Doge_. Thus, 'Twas not a foolish dotard's vile caprice, 310 Nor the false edge of aged appet.i.te, Which made me covetous of girlish beauty, And a young bride: for in my fieriest youth I swayed such pa.s.sions; nor was this my age Infected with that leprosy of l.u.s.t[406]

Which taints the h.o.a.riest years of vicious men, Making them ransack to the very last The dregs of pleasure for their vanished joys; Or buy in selfish marriage some young victim, Too helpless to refuse a state that's honest, 320 Too feeling not to know herself a wretch.

Our wedlock was not of this sort; you had Freedom from me to choose, and urged in answer Your father's choice.

_Ang_. I did so; I would do so In face of earth and Heaven; for I have never Repented for my sake; sometimes for yours, In pondering o'er your late disquietudes.

_Doge_. I knew my heart would never treat you harshly: I knew my days could not disturb you long; And then the daughter of my earliest friend, 330 His worthy daughter, free to choose again.

Wealthier and wiser, in the ripest bloom Of womanhood, more skilful to select By pa.s.sing these probationary years, Inheriting a Prince's name and riches, Secured, by the short penance of enduring An old man for some summers, against all That law's chicane or envious kinsmen might Have urged against her right; my best friend's child Would choose more fitly in respect of years, 340 And not less truly in a faithful heart.

_Ang_. My Lord, I looked but to my father's wishes, Hallowed by his last words, and to my heart For doing all its duties, and replying With faith to him with whom I was affianced.

Ambitious hopes ne'er crossed my dreams; and should The hour you speak of come, it will be seen so.

_Doge_. I do believe you; and I know you true: For Love--romantic Love--which in my youth I knew to be illusion, and ne'er saw 350 Lasting, but often fatal, it had been No lure for me, in my most pa.s.sionate days, And could not be so now, did such exist.

But such respect, and mildly paid regard As a true feeling for your welfare, and A free compliance with all honest wishes,-- A kindness to your virtues, watchfulness Not shown, but shadowing o'er such little failings As Youth is apt in, so as not to check Rashly, but win you from them ere you knew 360 You had been won, but thought the change your choice; A pride not in your beauty, but your conduct; A trust in you; a patriarchal love, And not a doting homage; friendship, faith,-- Such estimation in your eyes as these Might claim, I hoped for.

_Ang_. And have ever had.

_Doge_. I think so. For the difference in our years You knew it choosing me, and chose; I trusted Not to my qualities, nor would have faith In such, nor outward ornaments of nature, 370 Were I still in my five and twentieth spring; I trusted to the blood of Loredano[407]

Pure in your veins; I trusted to the soul G.o.d gave you--to the truths your father taught you-- To your belief in Heaven--to your mild virtues-- To your own faith and honour, for my own.

_Ang_. You have done well.--I thank you for that trust, Which I have never for one moment ceased To honour you the more for.

_Doge_. Where is Honour, Innate and precept-strengthened, 'tis the rock 380 Of faith connubial: where it is not--where Light thoughts are lurking, or the vanities Of worldly pleasure rankle in the heart, Or sensual throbs convulse it, well I know 'Twere hopeless for humanity to dream Of honesty in such infected blood, Although 'twere wed to him it covets most: An incarnation of the poet's G.o.d In all his marble-chiselled beauty, or The demi-deity, Alcides, in 390 His majesty of superhuman Manhood, Would not suffice to bind where virtue is not; It is consistency which forms and proves it: Vice cannot fix, and Virtue cannot change.

The once fall'n woman must for ever fall; For Vice must have variety, while Virtue Stands like the Sun, and all which rolls around Drinks life, and light, and glory from her aspect.

_Ang_. And seeing, feeling thus this truth in others, (I pray you pardon me;) but wherefore yield you 400 To the most fierce of fatal pa.s.sions, and Disquiet your great thoughts with restless hate Of such a thing as Steno?

_Doge_. You mistake me.

It is not Steno who could move me thus; Had it been so, he should--but let that pa.s.s.

_Ang_. What is't you feel so deeply, then, even now?

_Doge_. The violated majesty of Venice, At once insulted in her Lord and laws.

_Ang_. Alas! why will you thus consider it?

_Doge_. I have thought on't till--but let me lead you back 410 To what I urged; all these things being noted, I wedded you; the world then did me justice Upon the motive, and my conduct proved They did me right, while yours was all to praise: You had all freedom--all respect--all trust From me and mine; and, born of those who made Princes at home, and swept Kings from their thrones On foreign sh.o.r.es, in all things you appeared Worthy to be our first of native dames.

_Ang_. To what does this conduct?

_Doge_. To thus much--that 420 A miscreant's angry breath may blast it all-- A villain, whom for his unbridled bearing, Even in the midst of our great festival, I caused to be conducted forth, and taught How to demean himself in ducal chambers; A wretch like this may leave upon the wall The blighting venom of his sweltering heart, And this shall spread itself in general poison; And woman's innocence, man's honour, pa.s.s Into a by-word; and the doubly felon 430 (Who first insulted virgin modesty By a gross affront to your attendant damsels Amidst the n.o.blest of our dames in public) Requite himself for his most just expulsion By blackening publicly his Sovereign's consort, 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 pa.s.s 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 pa.s.sion 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.[408]

_Ang_. Remember what you were.

_Doge_. It were in vain!