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Chorus of Mortals.

Then to Jehovah raise

Oh son of Noah! mercy on thy kind! What, wilt thou leave us all-all-all behind?

While safe amidst the elemental strife,
Thou sit'st within thy guarded ark?

A Mortal (offering her infant to Japhet). Oh let this child embark!

I brought him forth in woe,

But thought it joy

To see him to my bosom clinging so.
Why was he born?

What hath he done-
My unwean'd son-

To move Jehovah's wrath or scorn?
What is there in this milk of mine, that Death
Should stir allHeaven andEarth up to destroy

My boy,

And roll the waters o'er his placid breath?
Save him, thou seed of Seth!

Or cursed be-with Him who made
Thee and thy race, for which we are betray'd!
Japhet. Peace! 'tis no hour for curses,
but for prayer!

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The forest's trees (coeval with the hour When Paradise upsprung,

Ere Eve gave Adam knowledge for her dower,

Or Adam his first hymn of slavery sung),
So massy, vast, yet green in their old age,
Are overtopp'd,

Their summer-blossomsby the surges lopp'd,
Which rise, and rise, and rise.
Vainly we look up to the lowering skies-
They meet the seas,

And shut out God from our beseeching eyes.
Fly, son of Noah, fly, and take thine ease
In thine allotted Ocean-tent;

And view, all floating o'er the Element, The corpses of the world of thy young days:

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Time-space-eternity-life-deathThe vast known and immeasurable unknown.

He made, and can unmake;

And shall I, for a little gasp of breath, Blaspheme and groan?

No; let me die, as I have lived, in faith, Nor quiver, though the universe may quake! Chorus of Mortals. Where shall we fly?

Not to the mountains high;

For now their torrents rush with double roar,
To meet the ocean, which, advancing still,
Already grasps each drowning hill,
Nor leaves an unsearch'd cave.

Enter a Woman.
Woman. Oh, save me, save!
Our valley is no more:

My father and my father's tent,

My brethren and my brethren's herds,
The pleasant trees that o'er our noonday bent
And sent forth evening-songs from sweetest
birds,

The little rivulet which freshen'd all
Our pastures green,

No more are to be seen. When to the mountain-cliff I climb'd this morn,

I turn'd to bless the spot,

And not a leaf appear'd about to fall;-
And now they are not!-
Why was I born?

Japhet. To die! in youth to die;
And happier in that doom,

Than to behold the universal tomb
Which I

Am thus condemn'd to weep above in vain: Why, when all perish, why must I remain? [The Waters rise: Men fly in every direc

tion; many are overtaken by the waves; the Chorus of Mortals disperses in search of safety up the Mountains; JAPHET remains upon a rock, while the Ark floats towards him in the distance.

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"Doge Foscari, my debtor for the deaths
Of Marco and Pietro Loredano,
My sire and uncle?"

Lored. It is written thus.

Barb. And will you leave it unerased?
Lored. Till balanced.
Barb.

And how?

(Two Senators pass over the stage, as
in their way to "the Hall of the
Council of Ten.”

Lored. You see the number is complete.
Follow me.
[Exit Loredano.

Barb. (solus). Follow thee! I have fol-
low'd long

Thy path of desolation, as the wave
Sweeps after that before it, alike whelming
The wreck that creaks to the wild winds,
and wretch

Who shrieks within its riven ribs, as gush
The waters through them: but this son and
sire

Might move the elements to pause, and yet
Must I on hardily like them-Oh! would
1 could as blindly and remorselessly!—
Lo, where he comes!-Be still, my heart!
they are

Thy foes,must be thy victims: wilt thou beat
For those who almost broke thee?

Enter Guards, with young FOSCARI as
prisoner.

Guard. Let him rest.

Signor, take time.

J. Foscari. I thank thee, friend, I'm feeble; But thou mayst stand reproved.

Guard. I'll stand the hazard.

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Enter an Officer, who whispers BARBARIGO.
Barb. (to the Guard) Let him approach.
I must not speak with him
Further than thus; I have transgress'd my
duty

In this brief parley, and must now redeem it
Within the Council-Chamber.
[Exit Barbarigo.
[Guard conducting Jacopo Foscari to
the window.

Guard. There, sir, 'tis
Open-How feel you?

J. Foscari. Like a boy-Oh Venice!
Guard. And your limbs?

J. Foscari. Limbs! how often have they
borne me

Bounding o'er yon blue tide, as I have
skimm'd

The gondola along in childish race,
And, masqued as a young gondolier, amidst
My gay competitors, noble as I,
Raced for our pleasure in the pride of
strength,

While the fair populace of crowding beauties,
Plebeian as patrician, cheer'd us on
With dazzling smiles, and wishes audible,
And waving kerchiefs,and applauding hands,
Even to the goal!-How many a time have I
Cloven with arm still lustier, breast more
daring,

The wave all roughen'd; with a swimmer's
stroke

Flinging the billows back from my drench'd hair,

J. Foscari. That's kind: -- I meet some And laughing from my lip the audacious

pity, but no mercy;

This is the first.

Guard. And might be last, did they Who rule behold us.

Barb. (advancing to the guard) There
is one who does:

Yet fear not; I will neither be thy judge
Nor thy accuser; though the hour is past,
Wait their last summons --I am of "the Ten,"
And waiting for that summons sanction you
Even by my presence: when the last call
sounds,

We'll in together. Look well to the prisoner!
J. Foscari. What voice is that? 'tis
Barbarigo's! Ah!

brine,
Which kiss'd it like a wine-cup, rising o'er
The waves as they arose, and prouder still
The loftier they uplifted me; and oft,
In wantonness of spirit, plunging down
Into their green and glassy gulfs,and making
My way to shells and sea-weed, all unseen
By those above, till they wax'd fearful; then
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
The long-suspended breath, again I spurn'd
The foam which broke around me, and
pursued

Our house's foe, and one of my few judges. My track like a sea-bird.—I was a boy then.

Guard. Be a man now: there never was | And the cold drops strain through my brow

more need

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Guard. And the third time will slay you. J. Foscari. Let them do so, So I be buried in my birth-place; better Be ashes here than aught that lives elsewhere.

Guard. And can you so much love the soil which hates you?

J. Foscari. The soil! Oh no, it is the
seed of the soil

Which persecutes me; but my native earth
Will take me as a mother to her arms.
I ask no more than a Venetian grave,
A dungeon, what they will, so it be here.
Enter an Officer.

Officer. Bring in the prisoner!
Guard. Signor, you hear the order.
J. Foscari. Ay, I am used to such a
summons; 'tis

The third time they have tortured me:then lend me

Thine arm.
[To the Guard.
Officer. Take mine, sir; 'tis my duty to
Be nearest to your person.

J. Foscari. You!-you are he
Who yesterday presided o'er my pangs-
Away!-I'll walk alone.

Officer. As you please, signor ;

The sentence was not of my signing, but I dared not disobey the Council when They

J. Foscari. Bade thee stretch me on their

horrid engine.

I pray thee touch me not—that is, just now; The time will come they will renew that

order,

But keep off from me till 'tis issued. As I look upon thy hands my curdling limbs Quiver with the anticipated wrenching,

as if

But onward-I have borne it-I can bear it.How looks my father?

Officer. With his wonted aspect.

J. Foscari. So does the earth, and sky, the blue of ocean,

The brightness of our city, and her domes,
The mirth of her Piazza - even now
Its merry hum of nations pierces here,
Even here, into these chambers of the

unknown

Who govern, and the unknown and the unnumber'd

Judged and destroy'd in silence,—all things

wear

The self-same aspect, to my very sire!
Nothing can sympathize with Foscari,
Not even a Foscari.—Sir, I attend you.

[Exeunt Jacopo Foscari, Officer, etc. Enter MEMMO and another Senator. Memmo. He's gone—we are too late:~ think you the Ten

Will sit for any length of time to-day? Senator. They say the prisoner is most obdurate,

Persisting in his first avowal; but
More I know not.

Memmo. And that is much; the secrets Of yon terrific chamber are as hidden From us, the premier nobles of the state, As from the people.

Senator. Save the wonted rumours, Which (like the tales of spectres that are rife Near ruin'd buildings) never have been proved,

Nor wholly disbelieved: men know as little Of the state's real acts as of the grave's Unfathom'd mysteries.

Memmo. But with length of time We gain a step in knowledge, and I look Forward to be one day of the decemvirs. Senator. Or Doge?

Memmo. Why, no, not if I can avoid it. Senator. 'Tis the first station of the state, and may

Be lawfully desired, and lawfully
Attain'd by noble aspirants.

Memmo. To such

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Memmo. I understand thee, but I must not answer.

Marina (fiercely). True_none dare answer here save on the rack,

Or question save those

To love; but_no_no_no_it must have been A fearful pang which wrung a groan from him.

Senator. And feeling for thy husband's wrongs, wouldst thou

Memmo (interrupting her). High-born Have him bear more than mortal pain, in

dame! bethink thee

Where thou now art.

Marina. Where I now am!—It was My husband's father's palace. Memmo. The Duke's palace. Marina. And his son's prison;-true, I have not forgot it;

And if there were no other nearer, bitterer Remembrances, would thank the illustrious Memmo

For pointing out the pleasures of the place. Memmo. Be calm!

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silence?

Marina. We all must bear tortures. I have not

Left barren the great house of Foscari, Though they sweep both the Doge and son from life;

I have endured as much in giving life
To those who will succeed them as they can
In leaving it: but mine were joyful pangs;
And yet they wrung me till I could have
shriek'd,

But did not, for my hope was to bring forth
Heroes, and would not welcome them with

tears.

Memmo. All's silent now.

Marina. Perhaps all's over, but

I will not deem it: he hath nerved himself, And now defies them.

Enter an Officer hastily.

Memmo. How now, friend, what seek you? Officer. A leech. The prisoner has fainted. [Exit Officer.

Memmo. Lady,

Twere better to retire.

Senator (offering to assist her). I pray thee do so.

Marina. Off! I will tend him.

Memmo. You! Remember, lady!

He does not, there are those will sentence Ingress is given to none within those

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Is but to expose yourself to harsh repulse,
And worse suspense.

Marina. Who shall oppose me?
Memmo. They

Whose duty 'tis to do so.

Marina. 'Tis their duty

To trample on all human feelings, all
Ties which bind man to man, to emulate
The fiends, who will one day requite them in
Variety of torturing! Yet I'll pass.
Memmo. It is impossible.

Marina. That shall be tried.
Despair defies even despotism: there is

He shriek! No; that should be his father's That in my heart would make its way

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through hosts

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