The Works of Lord Byron

The mighty in the fleld, the sage in council;
Unsay the words of this man! — Thou art

silent!

Benint. He hath already own'd to his own guilt,

Nor, as thou seest, doth he deny it now. Ang. Ay, but he must not die! Spare his few years,

Which grief and shame will soon cut down to days!

One day of baffled crime must not efface Near sixteen lustres crowded with brave acts.

Doge. I have lived too long not to know
how to die!

Thy suing to these men were but the bleating
Of the lamb to the butcher, or the cry
Of seamen to the surge: I would not take
A life eternal, granted at the hands
Of wretches, from whose monstrous villanies
I sought to free the groaning nations!
M. Steno. Doge,

A word with thee, and with this noble lady,
Whom I have grievously offended. Would
Sorrow, or shame, or penance on my part,
Could cancel the inexorable past!

Benint. His doom must be fulfill'd without But since that cannot be, as Christians let us Say farewell, and in peace: with full contrition

remission

Of time or penalty—'tis a decree.

Ang. He hath been guilty, but there
may be mercy.

Benint. Not in this case with justice.
Ang. Alas! signor,

He who is only just is cruel; who
Upon the earth would live were all judged
justly?

Benint. His punishment is safety to the

state.

Ang. He was a subject, and hath served the state;`

He was your general, and hath saved the state;

He is your sovereign, and hath ruled the

state.

One of the Council. He is a traitor, and betray'd the state.

Ang. And, but for him, there now had

been no state

To save or to destroy; and you who sit
There to pronounce the death of your
deliverer,

Had now been groaning at a Moslem oar,
Or digging in the Hunnish mines in fetters!
One of the Council. No, lady, there are
others who would die

Rather than breathe in slavery!

Ang. If there are so
Within these walls, thou art not of the
number:

The truly brave are generous to the fallen!
Is there no hope?

Benint. Lady, it cannot be.
Ang. (turning to the Doge) Then die,
Faliero! since it must be so;
But with the spirit of my father's friend.
Thou hast been guilty of a great offence,
Half-cancell'd by the harshness of these men.
I would have sued to them-have pray'd

to them

Have begg'd as famish'd mendicants for bread

Of virtue, looking not to what is called
A good name for reward, but to itself.
To me the scorner's words were as the wind
Unto the rock: but as there are-alas!
Spirits more sensitive, on which such things
Light as the whirlwind on the waters; souls
To whom dishonour's shadow is a substance
More terrible than death here and hereafter;
Men whose vice is to start at vice's scoffing,
And who, though proof against all bland-
ishments

Of pleasure, and all pangs of pain, are feeble
When the proud name on which they
pinnacled

Their hopes is breathed on, jealous as the
eagle

Of her high aiery; let what we now
Behold, and feel, and suffer, be a lesson
To wretches how they tamper in their spleen
With beings of a higher order. Insects
Have made the lion mad ere now; a shaft
I' the heel o'erthrew the bravest of the brave;
A wife's dishonour was the bane of Troy;
A wife's dishonour unking'd Rome for ever;
An injured husband brought the Gauls to
.Clusium,

time;

Have wept as they will cry unto their God
For mercy, and be answer'd as they answer-And thence to Rome, which perish'd for a
Had it been fitting for thy name or miue,
And if the cruelty in their cold eyes
Had not announced the heartless wrath
within.

Then, as a prince, address thee to thy doom!

An obscene gesture cost Caligula

His life, while Earth yet bore his cruelties; A virgin's wrong made Spain a Moorish province;

And Steno's He, couch'd in two worthless Of grateful masses for Heaven's grace in

lines,

Hath decimated Venice, put in peril

A senate which hath stood eight hundred years,

Discrown'd a prince, cut off his crownless
head,

And forged new fetters for a groaning people!
Let the poor wretch, like to the courtesan
Who fired Persepolis, be proud of this,
Ifit so please him-'twere a pride fit for him!
But let him not insult the last hours of
Him, who, whate'er he now is, was a hero,
By the intrusion of his very prayers;
Nothing of good can come from such a source,
Nor would we aught with him, nor now,

nor ever:

We leave him to himself, that lowest depth
Of human baseness. Pardon is for men,
And not for reptiles - we have none for Steno,
And no resentment; things like him must
sting,

And higher beings suffer; 'tis the charter
Of life. The man who dies by the adder's
fang

May have the crawler crush'd, but feels no anger:

'Twas the worm's nature; and some men

are worms

In soul, more than the living things of tombs.

Doge (to Benintende). Signor, complete
that which you deem your duty.
Benint. Before we can proceed upon that
duty,

We would request the princess to withdraw;
Twill move her too much to be witness to it.
Ang. I know it will, and yet I must
endure it;

For 'tis a part of mine—I will not quit,
Except by force, my husband's side.—
Proceed!

Nay, fear not either shriek, or sigh, or tear;
Though my heart burst, is shall be silent.-
Speak!

snatching

I have that within which shall o'ermaster all.
Benint. Marino Faliero, Doge of Venice,
Count of Val di Marino, Senator,
And some timeGeneral of the Fleet and Army,
Noble Venetian, many times and oft
Entrusted by the state with high employ-To
ments,

Even to the highest, listen to the sentence:
Convict by many witnesses and proofs,
And by thine own confession, of the guilt
Of treachery and treason, yet unheard of
Until this trial – the decree is death.
Thy goods are confiscate unto the state,
Thy name is razed from out her records, save
Upon a public day of thanksgiving
For this our most miraculous deliverance,
When thou art noted in our calendars
With earthquakes, pestilence, and foreign
foes,

And the great enemy of man, as subject

Doge. Is this the Giunta's sentence?
Benint. It is.

Doge. I can endure it. And the time?
Benint. Must be immediate.—Make thy

peace with God;

Within an hour thou must be in his presence. Doge. I am already; and my blood will rise

Heaven before the souls of those who
shed it.-

Are all my lands confiscated?
Benint. They are;

And goods, and jewels, and all kind of
treasure,
Except two thousand ducats- these dispose of.
Doge. That's harsh-I would have fain

reserved the lands
Near to Treviso, which I hold by investment
From Laurence the Count-bishop of Ceneda,
In fief perpetual to myself and heirs,
To portion them (leaving my city-spoil,
My palace and my treasures, to your forfeit)
Between my consort and my kinsmen.

Benint. These

Lie under the state's ban; their chief, thy nephew,

In peril of his own life; but the council
Postpones his trial for the present. If
Thou will'st a state unto thy widow'd
princess,

Fear not, for we will do her justice.
Ang. Signors,

I share not in your spoil! From henceforth, know

I am devoted unto God alone,

And take my refuge in the cloister.

Doge. Come!

The hour may be a hard one, but 'twill end.
Have I aught else to undergo save death?
Benint. You have nought to do, except
confess and die.

The priest is robed, the scimitar is bare,
And both await without.-But, above all,
Think not to speak unto the people; they
Are now by thousands swarming at the gates,
But these are closed: the Ten,the Avogadori,
The Giunta, and the chief men of the Forty,
Alone will be beholders of thy doom,
And they are ready to attend the Doge.
Doge. The Doge!

Benint. Yes, Doge, thou hast lived and thou shalt die

A sovereign; till the moment which precedes The separation of that head and trunk, That ducal crown and head shall be united. Thou hast forgot thy dignity in deigning To plot with petty traitors; not so we, Who in the very punishment acknowledge The prince. Thy vile accomplices have died The dog's death, and the wolf's; but thou shalt fall

As falls the lion by the hunters, girt By those who feel a proud compassion for thee,

And mourn even the inevitable death Provoked by thy wild wrath, and regal fierceness.

Now we remit thee to thy preparation : Let it be brief, and we ourselves will be Thy guides unto the place where first we

were

United to thee as thy subjects, and Thy senate; and must now be parted from thee As such for ever on the self-same spot. Guards! form the Doge's escort to his chamber. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The Doge's Apartment. The DOGE as prisoner, and the DUCHESS attending him.

Doge. Now, that the priest is gone, 'twere useless all

To linger out the miserable minutes; But one pang more, the pang of parting from thee,

And I will leave the few last grains of sand,

Which yet remain of the accorded hour,
Still falling-I have done with Time.
Ang. Alas!

And I have been the cause, the unconscious

'cause;

And for this funeral marriage," this black union,

Which thou, compliant with my father's wish,

Didst promise at his death, thou hast seal'd thine own.

Doge. Not so: there was that in my spirit ever

Which shaped out for itself some great

reverse;

The marvel is, it came not until now-
And yet it was foretold me.
Ang. How foretold you?

Doge. Long years ago-so long, they are a doubt

In memory, and yet they live in annals: When I was in my youth, and served the senate

And signory as podesta and captain
Of the town of Treviso, on a day
Of festival, the sluggish bishop who
Convey'd the Host aroused my rash young

anger,

By strange delay, and arrogant reply To my reproof; I raised my hand and smote him,

Until he reel'd beneath his holy burthen; And as he rose from earth again, he raised His tremulous hands in pious wrath towards Heaven.

Thence pointing to the Host, which had fallen from him,

He turn❜d to me, and said, "The hour will

come

When he thou hast o'erthrown shall over

throw thee:

The glory shall depart from out thy house, The wisdom shall be shaken from thy soul, And in thy best maturity of mind

A madness of the heart shall seize upon thee; Passion shall tear thee when all passions

cease

In other men, or mellow into virtues; And majesty, which decks all other heads, Shall crown to leave thee headless; honours shall

But prove to thee the heralds of destruction, And hoary hairs of shame,and both of death, But not such death as fits an aged man.” Thus saying, he pass'd on.-That hour is

come.

Ang. And with this warning couldst thou not have striven

To avert the fatal moment, and atone
By penitence for that which thou hadst done?
Doge. I own the words went to my

heart, so much

That I remember'd them amid the maze Of life, as if they form'd a spectral voice, Which shook me in a supernatural dream;

And I repented; but 'twas not for me
To pull in resolution: what must be
I could not change, and would not fear.
Nay, more,

Thou canst not have forgot what all remember,

That on my day of landing here as Doge,
On my return from Rome, a mist of such
Unwonted density went on before

The Bucentaur like the columnar cloud
Which usher'd Israel out of Egypt, till
The pilot was misled, and disembark'd us
Between the pillars of Saint Mark's, where 'tis
The custom of the state to put to death
Its criminals, instead of touching at
The Riva della Paglia, as the wont is,-
So that all Venice shudder'd at the omen.
Ang. Ah! little boots it now to recollect
Such things.

Doge. And yet I find a comfort in The thought that these things are the work of Fate;

For I would rather yield to gods than men, Or cling to any creed of destiny,

Rather than deem these mortals, most of whom

I know to be as worthless as the dust,
And weak as worthless, more than instru-

Shall be a desolation and a curse,

A hissing and a scoff unto the nations,
A Carthage, and a Tyre, an Ocean-Babel!
Ang. Speak not thus now; the surge of
passion still

Sweeps o'er thee to the last; thou dost deceive Thyself and canst not injure them-be calmer.

Doge. I stand within eternity, and see Into eternity, and I behold— Ay, palpable as I see thy sweet face For the last time the days which I denounce Unto all time against these wave-girt walls, And they who are indwellers.

Guard (coming forward). Doge of Venice, The Ten are in attendance on your highness. Doge. Then farewell, Angiolina! - one embrace

Forgive the old man who hath been to thee
A fond but fatal husband love my memory
I would not ask so much for me still living,

A little love, or friendship, or esteem,
No, not enough to extract an epitaph
From ostentatious kinsmen; in one hour
I have uprooted all my former life,
And outlived every thing, except thy heart,
The pure, the good, the gentle, which will oft
With unimpair'd but not a clamorous grief
Still keep-Thou turn'st so pale-Alas! she
faints,

She hath no breath, no pulse! Guards! lend your aid—

I cannot leave her thus, and yet 'tis better, Since every lifeless moment spares a pang. When she shakes off this temporary death, I shall be with the Eternal.-Call her

SCENE III.-The Court of the Ducal Palace: the outer gates are shut against the people.

-The DOGE enters in his ducal robes, in procession with the Council of Ten and other Patricians, attended by the Guards till they arrive at the top of the "Giant's Staircase" (where the Doges took the oaths); the Executioner is stationed there with his sword. On arriving, a Chief of the Ten takes off the ducal cap from the Doge's head.

Doge. So, now the Doge is nothing, and at last

I am again Marino Faliero :
Tis well to be so, though but for a moment.
Here was I crown'd, and here, bear witness,
Heaven!

With how much more contentment I resign
That shining mockery, the ducal bauble,
Than I received the fatal ornament.

One of the Ten. Thou tremblest, Faliero!
Doge. Tis with age, then.
Benint. Faliero! hast thou aught further
to commend,

Compatible with justice, to the senate?
Doge. I would commend my nephew to

their mercy, My consort to their justice; for methinks My death, and such a death, might settle all Between the state and me,

Benint. They shall be cared for; Even notwithstanding thine unheard of crime.

Doge. Unheard-of! ay, there's not a history

But shows a thousand crown'd conspirators Against the people; but to set them free One sovereign only died, and one is dying. Benint. And who are they who fell in such a cause?

Doge. The King of Sparta, and the Doge of Venice

Agis and Faliero!

Benint. Hast thou more

To utter or to do?

Doge. May I speak?

Benint. Thou mayst;

But recollect the people are without,
Beyond the compass of the human voice.
Doge. I speak to Time and to Eternity,
Of which I grow a portion, not to man.
Ye elements! in which to be resolved
I hasten, let my voice be as a spirit
Upon you! Ye blue waves! which bore
my banner,

Ye winds! which flutter'd o'er as if you loved it,

And fill'd my swelling sails as they were wafted

To many a triumph! Thou, my native earth, Which I have bled for, and thou foreign earth,

Which drank this willing blood from many a wound!

Ye stones, in which my gore will not sink, but

Reek up to Heaven! Ye skies, which will receive it!

Thou sun! which shinest on these things, and Thou!

Who kindlest and who quenchest suns!
Attest!

I am not innocent- but are these guiltless?
I perish, but not unavenged; far ages
Float up from the abyss of time to be,
And show these eyes, before they close,

the doom

Of this proud city, and I leave my curse
On her and hers for ever!-Yes, the hours
Are silently engendering of the day,
When she who built 'gainst Attila a bulwark,
Shall yield, and bloodlessly and basely yield
Unto a bastard-Attila, without

Shedding so much blood in her last defence:
As these old veins, oft drain'd in shielding her,
Shall pour in sacrifice.-She shall be bought
And sold, and be an appanage to those
Who shall despise her! She shall stoop to be
A province for an empire, petty town
In lieu of capital, with slaves for senates,
Beggars for nobles, panders for a people!
Then, when the Hebrew 's in thy palaces,
The Hun in thy high places, and the Greek
Walks o'er thy mart, and smiles on it
for his!

When thy patricians beg their bitter bread In narrow streets, and in their shameful need Make their nobility a plea for pity! · Then, when the few who still retain a wreck Of their great fathers' heritage shall fawn Round a barbarian Vice of Kings' Vicegerent,

Even in the palace where they sway'd as sovereigns,

Even in the palace where they slew their sovereign,

Proud of some name they have disgraced,

or sprung

From an adulteress boastful of her guilt With some large gondolier or foreign soldier, Shall bear about their bastardy in triumph To the third spurious generation;—when Thy sons are in the lowest scale of being, Slaves turn'd o'er to the vanquish'd by the victors,

Despised by cowards for greater cowardice, And scorn'd even by the vicious for such vices As in the monstrous grasp of their conception Defy all codes to image or to name them; Then, when of Cyprus, now thy subject kingdom,

All thine inheritance shall be her shame Entail'd on thy less virtuous daughters,

grown

A wider proverb for worse prostitution;— When all the ills of conquer'd states shall cling thee,

Vice without splendour, sin without relief Even from the gloss of love to smooth it o'er, But in its stead coarse lusts of habitude, Prurient yet passionless, cold studied lewdness,

Depraving nature's frailty to an art;When these and more are heavy on thee, when

Smiles without mirth, and pastimes without pleasure,

Youth without honour, age without respect, Meanness and weakness, and a sense of woe 'Gainst which thou wilt not strive, and dar'st not murmur,

Have made thee last and worst of peopled deserts:

Then, in the last gasp of thine agony, Amidst thy many murders, think of mine! Thou den of drunkards with the blood of princes!

Gehenna of the waters! thou sea-Sodom! Thus I devote thee to the infernal gods! Thee and thy serpent-seed!

[Here the DoGE turns, and addresses
the Executioner.

Slave, do thine office;
Strike as I struck the foe! Strike as I would
Have struck those tyrants! Strike deep as
my curse!

Strike-and but once!

[The DoGE throws himself upon his knees, and as the Executioner raises his sword the scene closes.

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The Works of Lord Byron: Complete in One Volume