The Works of Lord Byron Volume IV Part 67

_Lioni_. 'Tis a strange hour, and a suspicious bearing! 120 And yet there is slight peril: 'tis not in Their houses n.o.ble men are struck at; still, Although I know not that I have a foe In Venice, 'twill be wise to use some caution.

Admit him, and retire; but call up quickly Some of thy fellows, who may wait without.-- Who can this man be?-- [_Exit_ ANTONIO, _and returns with_ BERTRAM _m.u.f.fled_.

_Ber_. My good Lord Lioni, I have no time to lose, nor thou,--dismiss This menial hence; I would be private with you.

_Lioni_. It seems the voice of Bertram--Go, Antonio. 130 [_Exit_ ANTONIO.

Now, stranger, what would you at such an hour?

_Ber_. (_discovering himself_).

A boon, my n.o.ble patron; you have granted Many to your poor client, Bertram; add This one, and make him happy.

_Lioni_. Thou hast known me From boyhood, ever ready to a.s.sist thee In all fair objects of advancement, which Beseem one of thy station; I would promise Ere thy request was heard, but that the hour, Thy bearing, and this strange and hurried mode Of suing, gives me to suspect this visit 140 Hath some mysterious import--but say on-- What has occurred, some rash and sudden broil?-- A cup too much, a scuffle, and a stab?

Mere things of every day; so that thou hast not Spilt n.o.ble blood, I guarantee thy safety; But then thou must withdraw, for angry friends And relatives, in the first burst of vengeance, Are things in Venice deadlier than the laws.

_Ber_. My Lord, I thank you; but----

_Lioni_. But what? You have not Raised a rash hand against one of our order? 150 If so--withdraw and fly--and own it not;[ek]

I would not slay--but then I must not save thee!

He who has shed patrician blood----

_Ber_. I come To save patrician blood, and not to shed it!

And thereunto I must be speedy, for Each minute lost may lose a life; since Time Has changed his slow scythe for the two-edged sword, And is about to take, instead of sand, The dust from sepulchres to fill his hour-gla.s.s!-- Go not _thou_ forth to-morrow!

_Lioni_. Wherefore not?-- 160 What means this menace?

_Ber_. Do not seek its meaning, But do as I implore thee;--stir not forth, Whate'er be stirring; though the roar of crowds-- The cry of women, and the shrieks of babes-- The groans of men--the clash of arms--the sound Of rolling drum, shrill trump, and hollow bell, Peal in one wide alarum l--Go not forth, Until the Tocsin's silent, nor even then Till I return!

_Lioni_. Again, what does this mean?

_Ber_. Again, I tell thee, ask not; but by all 170 Thou holdest dear on earth or Heaven--by all The Souls of thy great fathers, and thy hope To emulate them, and to leave behind Descendants worthy both of them and thee-- By all thou hast of blessed in hope or memory-- By all thou hast to fear here or hereafter-- By all the good deeds thou hast done to me, Good I would now repay with greater good,[el]

Remain within--trust to thy household G.o.ds,[em]

And to my word for safety, if thou dost, 180 As I now counsel--but if not, thou art lost!

_Lioni_. I am indeed already lost in wonder; Surely thou ravest! what have _I_ to dread?

Who are my foes? or if there be such, _why_ Art _thou_ leagued with them?--_thou!_ or, if so leagued, Why comest thou to tell me at this hour, And not before?

_Ber_. I cannot answer this.

Wilt thou go forth despite of this true warning?

_Lioni_. I was not born to shrink from idle threats, The cause of which I know not: at the hour 190 Of council, be it soon or late, I shall not Be found among the absent.

_Ber_. Say not so!

Once more, art thou determined to go forth?

_Lioni_. I am. Nor is there aught which shall impede me!

_Ber_. Then, Heaven have mercy on thy soul!--Farewell!

[_Going_.

_Lioni_. Stay--there is more in this than my own safety Which makes me call thee back; we must not part thus: Bertram, I have known thee long.

_Ber_. From childhood, Signor, You have been my protector: in the days Of reckless infancy, when rank forgets, 200 Or, rather, is not yet taught to remember Its cold prerogative, we played together; Our sports, our smiles, our tears, were mingled oft; My father was your father's client, I His son's scarce less than foster-brother; years Saw us together--happy, heart-full hours!

Oh G.o.d! the difference 'twixt those hours and this!

_Lioni_. Bertram, 'tis thou who hast forgotten them.

_Ber_. Nor now, nor ever; whatsoe'er betide, I would have saved you: when to Manhood's growth 210 We sprung, and you, devoted to the state, As suits your station, the more humble Bertram Was left unto the labours of the humble, Still you forsook me not; and if my fortunes Have not been towering, 'twas no fault of him Who ofttimes rescued and supported me, When struggling with the tides of Circ.u.mstance, Which bear away the weaker: n.o.ble blood Ne'er mantled in a n.o.bler heart than thine Has proved to me, the poor plebeian Bertram. 220 Would that thy fellow Senators were like thee!

_Lioni_. Why, what hast thou to say against the Senate?[en]

_Ber_. Nothing.

_Lioni_. I know that there are angry spirits And turbulent mutterers of stifled treason, Who lurk in narrow places, and walk out m.u.f.fled to whisper curses to the night; Disbanded soldiers, discontented ruffians, And desperate libertines who brawl in taverns; _Thou_ herdest not with such: 'tis true, of late I have lost sight of thee, but thou wert wont 230 To lead a temperate life, and break thy bread With honest mates, and bear a cheerful aspect.

What hath come to thee? in thy hollow eye And hueless cheek, and thine unquiet motions, Sorrow and Shame and Conscience seem at war To waste thee.

_Ber_. Rather Shame and Sorrow light On the accursed tyranny which rides[eo]

The very air in Venice, and makes men Madden as in the last hours of the plague Which sweeps the soul deliriously from life! 240

_Lioni_. Some villains have been tampering with thee, Bertram; This is not thy old language, nor own thoughts; Some wretch has made thee drunk with disaffection: But thou must not be lost so; thou _wert_ good And kind, and art not fit for such base acts As Vice and Villany would put thee to: Confess--confide in me--thou know'st my nature.

What is it thou and thine are bound to do, Which should prevent thy friend, the only son Of him who was a friend unto thy father, 250 So that our good-will is a heritage We should bequeath to our posterity Such as ourselves received it, or augmented; I say, what is it thou must do, that I Should deem thee dangerous, and keep the house Like a sick girl?

_Ber_. Nay, question me no further: I must be gone.----

_Lioni_. And I be murdered!--say, Was it not thus thou said'st, my gentle Bertram?

_Ber_. Who talks of murder? what said I of murder?

Tis false! I did not utter such a word. 260

_Lioni_. Thou didst not; but from out thy wolfish eye, So changed from what I knew it, there glares forth The gladiator. If _my_ life's thine object, Take it--I am unarmed,--and then away!

I would not hold my breath on such a tenure[ep]

As the capricious mercy of such things As thou and those who have set thee to thy task-work.

_Ber_. Sooner than spill thy blood, I peril mine; Sooner than harm a hair of thine, I place In jeopardy a thousand heads, and some 270 As n.o.ble, nay, even n.o.bler than thine own.

_Lioni_. Aye, is it even so? Excuse me, Bertram; I am not worthy to be singled out From such exalted hecatombs--who are they That _are_ in danger, and that _make_ the danger?

_Ber_. Venice, and all that she inherits, are Divided like a house against itself, And so will perish ere to-morrow's twilight!

_Lioni_. More mysteries, and awful ones! But now, Or thou, or I, or both, it may be, are 280 Upon the verge of ruin; speak once out, And thou art safe and glorious: for 'tis more Glorious to save than slay, and slay i' the dark too-- Fie, Bertram! that was not a craft for thee!

How would it look to see upon a spear The head of him whose heart was open to thee!

Borne by thy hand before the shuddering people?

And such may be my doom; for here I swear, Whate'er the peril or the penalty Of thy denunciation, I go forth, 290 Unless thou dost detail the cause, and show The consequence of all which led thee here!

_Ber_. Is there no way to save thee? minutes fly, And thou art lost!--_thou_! my sole benefactor, The only being who was constant to me Through every change. Yet, make me not a traitor!

Let me save thee--but spare my honour!

_Lioni_. Where Can lie the honour in a league of murder?

And who are traitors save unto the State?

_Ber_. A league is still a compact, and more binding 300 In honest hearts when words must stand for law; And in my mind, there is no traitor like He whose domestic treason plants the poniard[435]