For yielding to thy nature: and there's time 'Tis most strange! Yet for thee to escape hence.

MYRRHA. But that so rare, my Pania, as thou think'st it.

Shall I light In the meantime, live thou.-Farewell! the pile One of the torches which lie heap'd beneath Is ready

The ever-burning lamp that burns without,

Before Baal's shrine, in the adjoining hall ?
I should shame to leave my sovereign

With but a single female to partake

Do so.

Is that thy answer? His death.


Thou shalt see.
Too many far have heralded

(Exit MYRRHA. Me to the dust already. Get thee hence

SARDANAPALUS (solus). Enrich thee.

She's firm. My fathers! whom I will rejoin,

It may be, purified by death from some
And live wretched!

of the gross stains of too material being,
Think upon

I would not leave your ancient first abode

To the defilement of usurping bondmen;
Thy Fow ;-t is sacred and irrevocable.

If I have not kept your inheritance
Since it is so, farewell.

As ye bequeath'd it, this bright part of it,

Your treasure, your abode, your sacred relics
Search well
my chamber,

Of arms, and records, monuments, and spoils,
Feel no remorse at bearing off the gold;

In which they would have revell’d, I bear with me Remember, what you leave you leave the slaves

To you in that absorbing element, Who slew me: and when you have borne away

Which most personifies the soul, as leaving All safe off to your boats, blow one long blast

The least of matter unconsumed before Upon the trumpet as you quit the palace.

Its fiery working :--and the light of this The river's brink is too remote, its stream

Most royal of funereal pyres shall be Too loud at present to permit the echo

Not a mere pillar form’d of cloud and flame,

a To reach distinctly from its banks. Then fly,

A beacon in the horizon for a day, And as you sail, turn back; but still keep on

And then a mount of ashes, but a light Your way along the Euphrates: if you reach

To lesson ages, rebel nations, and The land of Paphlagonia, where the queen

Voluptuous princes. Time shall quench full many is safe with my three sons in Cotta's court,

A people's records, and a hero's acts; Say what you saw at parting, and request

Sweep empire after empire, like this first That she remember what I said at one

Of empires, into nothing ; but even then
Parting more mournful still.

Shall spare this deed of mine, and hold it up

A problem few dare imitate, and none
That royal hand !

Despise-but, it may be, avoid the life
Let me then once more press it to my lips;

Which led to such a consummation.
And these poor soldiers who throng round you, and MYRRHA returns with a lighted Torch in one Hand
Would fain die with you?

and a Cup in the other.
(The Soldiers and Pania throng round him,
kissing his hand and the hem of his robe.

I've lit the lamp which lights us to the stars.
My best! my last friends!
Let's not unman each other-part at once :

And the cup ?
All farewells should be sudden, when for ever,

Else they make an eternity of moments,

'T is my country's custom to
And clog the last sad sands of life with tears. Make a libation to the gods.
Hence, and be happy: trust me, I am not
Now to be pitied, or far more for what

And mine
Is past than present;—for the future, 't is

To make libations amongst men. I've not In the hands of the deities, if such

Forgot the custom; and, although alone, Tere be: I shall know soon. Farewell—farewell. Will drain one draught in memory of many (Exeunt Pania and the Soldiers. A joyous banquet past.

(SARDANAPALUs takes the cup, and after drink These men were honest: it is comfort still

ing and tinkling the reversed cup, as a drop That our last looks shall be on loving faces.

falls, exclaims

And this libation
And lovely ones, my beautifu!!-but hear me! Is for the excellent Beleses.
If at this moment, for we now are on
The brink, thou feelst an inward shrinking from

This leap through flame into the future, say it: Dwells thy mind rather upon that man's name
I shall not love thee less; nay, perhaps more, Than on his mate's in vilany?

2 2






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p. 199.


I satiated thee with peace and joys; and this
The one

Is my reward! and now I owe thee nothing,
Is a mere soldier, a mere tool, a kind

Not even a grave.

[He mounts the pile Of human sword in a fiend's hand; the other

Now, Myrrha !
Is master-mover of his warlike puppet;
But I dismiss them from my mind. Yet pause,

Art thou ready?
My Myrrha! dost thou truly follow me,
Freely and fearlessly?

As the torch in thy grasp.

(MYRRHA fires the pile. And dost thou think A Greek girl dare not do for love that which

'Tis fired! I come. An Indian widow braves for custom?

(As MYRRHA springs forward to throw herself SARDANAPALUS.

into the flames, the Curtain falls.

We but await the signal.

It is long

In sounding.

Now, farewell; one last embrace !

Note 1. Page 291, line 19.

And thou, my own loniao Myrrha.
Embrace, but not the last; there is one more.

“ The Ionian name had been still more comprehenSARDANAPALUS.

sive, having included the Achaians and the Bæotians, True, the commingling fire will mix our ashes. who, together with those to whom it was afterwards MYRRIIA.

confined, would make nearly the whole of the Greek And pure as is my love to thee, shall they,

nation, and among the orientals it was always the genPurged from the dross of earth, and earthly passion, eral name for the Greeks.”—Mutford's Greece, vol. i. Mix pale with thine. A single thought yet irks me.

Note 2. Page 294, line 1.
Say it.


The king, and son of Anacyodaraxes,

In one day built Anchialus and Tarsus.
It is that no kind hand will gather

Eat, drink and love; the rest 's not worth a hillip." The dust of both into one urn.

“For this expedition, he took not only a small chosen SARDANAPALUS.

body of the phalanx, but all his light troops. In the The better!

first day's march he reached Anchialus, a town said to Rather let them be borne abroad upon

have been founded by the king of Assyria, Sardanapalus. The winds of heaven, and scatter'd into air, The fortifications, in their magnitude and extent, still Than be polluted more by human hands

in Arrian's time, bore the character of greatness, which Of slaves and traitors; in this blazing palace, the Assyrians appear singularly to have affected in works And its enormous walls of reeking ruin,

of the kind. A monument, representing Sardanapalus, We leave a nobler monument than Egypt

was found there, warranted by an inscription in Assyrian Hath piled in her brick mountains o'er dead kings, characters, of course in the old Assyrian language, which Or karne, for none know whether those proud piles the Greeks, whether well or ill, interpreted thus: “SarBe for their monarch, or their ox.god Apis :

danapalus, son of Anacyndaraxes, in one day founded So much for monuments that have forgotten

Anchialus and Tarsus. Eat, drink, play: all other Their very record!

human joys are not worth a fillip.” Supposing this

version nearly exact (for Arrian says it was not quite so) Then farewell, thou earth! whether the purpose has not been to invite to civil order And loveliest spot of earth! farewell, Ionia ! a people disposed to turbulence, rather than to recom Be thou still free and beautiful, and far

mend immoderate luxury, may perhaps reasonably be Aloof from desolation! My last prayer

questioned. What, indeed, could be the object of a Was for thee, my last thoughts, save one, were of thee! king of Assyria in founding such towns in a country so

distant from his capital, and so divided from it by an SARDANAPALUS. And that?

immense extent of sandy deserts and lofty mountains, and, still more, how the inhabitants could be at once in

circumstances to abandon themselves to the intemperate (The trumpet of Pania sounds without. joys which their prince has been supposed to have recomSARDANAPALUS.

mended, is not obvious; but it may deserve observation Hark!

that, in that line of coast, the southern of Lesser Asia,

ruins of cities, evidently of an age after Alexander, yet Now !

barely named in history, at this day astonish the advenSARDANAPALUS.

turous traveller by their magnificence and elegance. Adieu, Assyria!

Amid the desolation which, under a singularly barbarian I loved thee well, my own, my father's land, government, has, for so many centuries, been daily And better as my country than my kingdom. spreading in the finest countries of the globe, whecher



Is yours.


more from soil and climate, or from opportunities for by a revolution, obloquy on his memory would follow commerce, extraordinary means must have been found of course from the policy of his successors and their for communities to flourish there, whence it may seem partisans. that the measures of Sardanapalus were directed by juster “The inconsistency of traditions concerning Sardanews than have been commonly ascribed to him; but napalus is striking in Diodorus's account of him."thal monarch having been the last of a dynasty, ended | Mitford's Greece, vol. ix. pp. 311, 312, and 313.

The Two Foscari;


The folher softens, but the governor's resolved.



But the poor wretch has suffered beyond nature's
Most stoical endurance.





Without owning
Frascos Foscari, Dage of Venice.

His crime.
Jacopo Foscari, Son of the Doge.
James LOREDANO, a Patrician.

Perhaps without committing any.
Marco MEMMO, a Chief of the Forty.

But he avow'd the letter to the Duke BARBARIGO, 4 Senator.

of Milan, and his sufferings half alone for
Other Senators, the Council of Ten, Guards, Allend- Such weakness.
ants, etc., etc.


We shall see.
MARINA, Wife of young

You, Loredano
Scene—The Ducal Palace, Venice. Pursue hereditary hate too far.

How far ?


To extermination.


When they are

Extinct, you may say this.—Let's into council.

A Hall in the Ducal Palace,

Yet pause—the number of our colleagues is not
Enter LoredanO and BARBARIGO, meeting.

Complete yet; two are wanting ere we can

WHERE is the prisoner ?

And the chief judge, the Doge?

Reposing from

No-he. The Question.

With more than Roman fortitude, is ever

First at the board in this unhappy process
The hour's past-fix'd yesterday

Against his last and only son.
For the resumption of his trial.—Let us

LOREDANO. Rejoin our colleagues in the council, and

Urge buis recall.

His last.

Nay, let him profit by
A few brief minutes for his tortured limbs ;

Will nothing move you?
He was o'erwrought by the Question yesterday,

LOREDANO. And may die under it if now repeated.

Feels he, think you :

He shows it not.





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'To the ducal chambers, as he pass’d the threshold, The waters through them; but this son and stre
The old man fainted.

Might move the elements to pause, and yet

Must I on hardily like them-Oh! would
It begins to work, then. I could as blindly and remorselessly!-

Lo, where he comes !-Be still, my heart! they are The work is half your own.

Thy foes, must be thy victims: wilt thou beat

For those who almost broke thee?
And should be all mine-

Enter Guards, with young Foscari as prisone, etc,
My father and my uncle are no more.

Let him rest.
I have read their epitaph, which says they died Signor, take time.
By poison.


I thank thee, friend, I'm feeble;
When the Doge declared that he

But thou may'st stand reproved. Should never deem himself a sovereign till

GUARD. The death of Peter Loredano, both

I'll stand the hazard. The brothers sicken'd shortly :-he is sorereign.


That's kind :-I nieet some pity, but no mercy ;
A wretched one.

This is the first.

What should they be who make

And might be the last, did they
Orphans ?

Who rule behold us.
But did the Doge make you so ?

BARBARIGO (advancing to the guard).

There is one who does :
Yes. Yet fear not; I will neither be thy judge

Nor thy accuser; though the hour is past,
What solid proofs ?

Wait their last summons-I am of “the Ten,"

And waiting for that summons, sanction you
When princes set themselves

Even by my presence: when the last call sounds
To work in secret, proofs and process are

We'll in together.-Look well to the prisoner ! Alike made difficult; but I have such

JACOPO FOSCARI. of the first, as shall make the second needless.

What voice is that ?—'tis Barbarigo's! Ah!

Our house's and one of my few judges.
But you will move by law?

By all the laws

To balance such a foe, if such there be,
Which he would leave us.

Thy father sits amongst thy judges.

They are such in this

Our state as render retribution easier

He judges.

Than ʼmongst remoter nations. Is it true
That you have written in your books of commerce

Then deem not the laws too harsh (The wealthy practice of our highest nobles),

Which yield so much indulgence to a sire “Doge Foscari, my debtor for the deaths

As to allow his voice in such high matter Of Marco and Pietro Loredano,

As the state's safety-
My sire and uncle ?"


And his son's. I'm faint ;
It is written thus.

Let me approach, I pray you, for a breath

Of air, yon window which o'erlooks the waters.
And will you leave it unerased ?

Enter an Officer, who whispers BARBARIGO.

BARBARIGO (to the guard).
Til balanced.

Let him approach. I must not speak with him

Further than thus; I have transgress'd my duty
And how?
( Two Senators pass over the Stage, as in their way to Within the Council Chamber.

In this brief parley, and must now redeem it the Hall of the Council of Ten).

(Exit BARBARIGL You see the number is complete.

(Guard conducting Jacopo Foscari to the windoro. Follow me.

BARBARIGO (solus).

There, sir, 't is
Follow thee! I have follow'd long Open-How feel you?
Thy path of desolation, as the wave
Sweeps after that before it, alike whelming

Like a boy-Oh Venice!
The wreck that creaks to the wild winds, and wretch

GUARD. Who shricks wahin its riven ribs, as gush

And your limbs ?


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I ask no more than a Venetian grave-
Limbs! how often have they borne me A dungeon, what they will, so it be here.
Bounding o er yen blue tide, as I have skimm'd

Enter an Officer,
The gondola along in childish race,
And, masqued as a young gondolier, amidst

My gay competitors, noble as 1,

Bring in the prisoner !
Raced for our pleasure in the pride of strength,
While the fair populace of crowding beauties,

Signor, you hear the order. Plebeian as patrician, cheer'd us on

JACOPO FOSCARI. With dazzling smiles, and wishes audible,

Ay, I am used to such a summons; 't is And waving kerchiefs, and applauding hands, The third time they have tortured me:—then lend me Even to the goal!-How many a time have I

Thine arm.

(To the Guard Cloven, with arm still lustier, breast more daring, The wave all roughen'd; with a swimmer's stroke

Take mine, sir ; 't is my duty to Flinging the billows back from my drench'd hair,

Be nearest to your person. And laughing from my lip the audacious brine,

JACOPO FOSCARI. Which kiss'd it like a wine-cup, rising o'er

You !-you are he The waves as they arose, and prouder still

Who yesterday presided o'er my pangs-
The lofter they uplifted me; and oft,

Away!-I'll walk alone.
In wantonness of spirit, plunging down
Into their green and glassy gulfs, and making


you please, signor; My way to shells and sea-weed, all unseen

The sentence was not of my signing, but By those above, till they wax'd fearful; then

I dared not disobey the Council, when
Returning with my grasp full of such tokens

As show'd that I had search'd the deep; exulting,
With a far-dashing stroke, and drawing deep

Bade thee stretch me on their horrid engine. The long-suspended breath, again I spurn'd

I pray thee touch ine not-that is, just now; The foam which broke around me, and pursued

The time will come they will renew that order, My track like a sea-bird.—I was a boy then. But keep off from me till 't is issued. As

I look upon thy hands, my curdling limbs Be a man now; there never was more need

Quiver with the anticipated wrenching, Of manhood's strength.

And the cold drops strain through my brow as if JACOPO FOSCARI (looking from the lattice).

But onward-1 have borne it-I can bear it.-
My beautiful, my own,

How looks my father ?
My only Venice—this is breath! Thy breeze,
Thine Adrian sea-breeze, how it fans my face !

With his wonted aspect.
The very winds feel native to my veins,
And cool them into calmness! How unlike

So doth the earth, and sky, the blue of ocean,
The hot gales of the horrid Cyclades,

The brightness of our city, and her domes, Which bowlid about my Candiote dungeon, and

The mirth of her Piazza, even now Made my heart sick.

Its merry hum of nations pierces here,

Even here, into these chambers of the unknown I see the colour comes

Who govern, and the unknown and the unnumber'd Back to your cheek: Heaven send you strength to bear Judged and destroy'd in silence all things wear What more may be imposed !—I dread to think on't. The self-same aspect, to my very sire !

Nothing can sympathize with Foscari, They will not banish me again ?-No-no,

Not even a Foscari.—Sir, I attend you. Let them wring on; I am strong yet.

(Exeunt Jacopo Foscari, Officer, evo

Enter MEMMO and another Senator.

Confess, And the rack will be spared you.

He's gone-we are too late :-think you "the Ten'
I confess'd

Will sit for any length of time to-day?
Once twice before: both times they exiled me.

They say the prisoner is most obdurate,
And the third time will slay you.

Persisting in his first avowal; but

More I know not.

Let them do so, So I be buried in my birth-place: better

And that is much; the secrets Be ashes here than aught that lives elsewhere. of

yon terrific chamber are as hidden

From us, the premier nobles of the state,
And can you so much love the soil which hates you ? As from the people.

The soil!—Oh no, it is the seed of the soil

Save the wonted rumours, Which persecutes me; but my native earth Which (like the tales of spectres that are rue Will take me as a mother to her arms,

Near ruin'd buildings) never have been proved,











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