The Works of Lord Byron Volume IV Part 60

_Mar_. But previous to this marriage, had your heart Ne'er beat for any of the n.o.ble youth, Such as in years had been more meet to match Beauty like yours? or, since, have you ne'er seen 120 One, who, if your fair hand were still to give, Might now pretend to Loredano's daughter?

_Ang_. I answered your first question when I said I married.

_Mar_. And the second?

_Ang_. Needs no answer.

_Mar_. I pray you pardon, if I have offended.

_Ang_. I feel no wrath, but some surprise: I knew not That wedded bosoms could permit themselves To ponder upon what they _now_ might choose, Or aught save their past choice.

_Mar_. 'Tis their past choice That far too often makes them deem they would 130 Now choose more wisely, could they cancel it.

_Ang_. It may be so. I knew not of such thoughts.

_Mar_. Here comes the Doge--shall I retire?

_Ang_. It may Be better you should quit me; he seems rapt In thought.--How pensively he takes his way!

[_Exit_ MARIANNA.

_Enter the_ DOGE _and_ PIETRO.

_Doge_ (_musing_). There is a certain Philip Calendaro Now in the a.r.s.enal, who holds command Of eighty men, and has great influence Besides on all the spirits of his comrades: This man, I hear, is bold and popular, 140 Sudden and daring, and yet secret; 'twould Be well that he were won: I needs must hope That Israel Bertuccio has secured him, But fain would be----

_Pie_. My Lord, pray pardon me For breaking in upon your meditation; The Senator Bertuccio, your kinsman, Charged me to follow and enquire your pleasure To fix an hour when he may speak with you.

_Doge_. At sunset.--Stay a moment--let me see-- Say in the second hour of night. [_Exit_ PIETRO.

_Ang_. My Lord! 150

_Doge_. My dearest child, forgive me--why delay So long approaching me?--I saw you not.

_Ang_. You were absorbed in thought, and he who now Has parted from you might have words of weight To bear you from the Senate.

_Doge_. From the Senate?

_Ang_. I would not interrupt him in his duty And theirs.

_Doge_. The Senate's duty! you mistake; 'Tis we who owe all service to the Senate.

_Ang_. I thought the Duke had held command in Venice.

_Doge_. He shall.--But let that pa.s.s.--We will be jocund. 160 How fares it with you? have you been abroad?

The day is overcast, but the calm wave Favours the gondolier's light skimming oar; Or have you held a levee of your friends?

Or has your music made you solitary?

Say--is there aught that you would will within The little sway now left the Duke? or aught Of fitting splendour, or of honest pleasure, Social or lonely, that would glad your heart, To compensate for many a dull hour, wasted 170 On an old man oft moved with many cares?

Speak, and 'tis done.

_Ang_. You're ever kind to me.

I have nothing to desire, or to request, Except to see you oftener and calmer.

_Doge_. Calmer?

_Ang_. Aye, calmer, my good Lord.--Ah, why Do you still keep apart, and walk alone, And let such strong emotions stamp your brow, As not betraying their full import, yet Disclose too much?

_Doge_. Disclose too much!--of what?

What is there to disclose?

_Ang_. A heart so ill 180 At ease.

_Doge_. 'Tis nothing, child.--But in the state You know what daily cares oppress all those Who govern this precarious commonwealth; Now suffering from the Genoese without, And malcontents within--'tis this which makes me More pensive and less tranquil than my wont.

_Ang_. Yet this existed long before, and never Till in these late days did I see you thus.

Forgive me; there is something at your heart More than the mere discharge of public duties, 190 Which long use and a talent like to yours Have rendered light, nay, a necessity, To keep your mind from stagnating. 'Tis not In hostile states, nor perils, thus to shake you,-- You, who have stood all storms and never sunk, And climbed up to the pinnacle of power And never fainted by the way, and stand Upon it, and can look down steadily Along the depth beneath, and ne'er feel dizzy.

Were Genoa's galleys riding in the port, 200 Were civil fury raging in Saint Mark's, You are not to be wrought on, but would fall, As you have risen, with an unaltered brow: Your feelings now are of a different kind; Something has stung your pride, not patriotism.

_Doge_. Pride! Angiolina? Alas! none is left me.

_Ang_. Yes--the same sin that overthrew the angels, And of all sins most easily besets Mortals the nearest to the angelic nature: The vile are only vain; the great are proud. 210

_Doge_. I _had_ the pride of honour, of _your_ honour, Deep at my heart--But let us change the theme.

_Ang_. Ah no!--As I have ever shared your kindness In all things else, let me not be shut out From your distress: were it of public import, You know I never sought, would never seek To win a word from you; but feeling now Your grief is private, it belongs to me To lighten or divide it. Since the day When foolish Steno's ribaldry detected 220 Unfixed your quiet, you are greatly changed, And I would soothe you back to what you were.

_Doge_. To what I was!--have you heard Steno's sentence?

_Ang_. No.

_Doge_. A month's arrest.

_Ang_. Is it not enough?

_Doge_. Enough!--yes, for a drunken galley slave, Who, stung by stripes, may murmur at his master; But not for a deliberate, false, cool villain, Who stains a Lady's and a Prince's honour Even on the throne of his authority.

_Ang_. There seems to be enough in the conviction 230 Of a patrician guilty of a falsehood: All other punishment were light unto His loss of honour.

_Doge_. Such men have no honour; They have but their vile lives--and these are spared.

_Ang_. You would not have him die for this offence?

_Doge_. Not _now_:--being still alive, I'd have him live Long as _he_ can; he has ceased to merit death; The guilty saved hath d.a.m.ned his hundred judges, And he is pure, for now his crime is theirs.

_Ang_. Oh! had this false and flippant libeller 240 Shed his young blood for his absurd lampoon, Ne'er from that moment could this breast have known A joyous hour, or dreamless slumber more.

_Doge_. Does not the law of Heaven say blood for blood?

And he who _taints_ kills more than he who sheds it.

Is it the _pain_ of blows, or _shame_ of blows, That makes such deadly to the sense of man?

Do not the laws of man say blood for honour,-- And, less than honour, for a little gold?

Say not the laws of nations blood for treason? 250 Is't nothing to have filled these veins with poison For their once healthful current? is it nothing To have stained your name and mine--the n.o.blest names?