Chief of the Ten. We are agreed, then?
All, except Lor. answer,

Yes.

Chief of the Ten. Heaven's peace be with him!
Mar. Signors, your pardon: this is mockery.
Juggle no more with that poor remnant, which,
A moment since, while yet it had a soul,
(A soul by whom you have increased your empire,
And made your power as proud as was his glory,)
You banish'd from his palace, and tore down
From his high place, with such relentless coldness;
And now, when he can neither know these honours,
Nor would accept them if he could, you, signors,
Purpose, with idle and superfluous pomp,

To make a pageant over what you trampled.
A princely funeral will be your reproach,
And not his honour.

Chief of the Ten. Lady, we revoke not
Our purposes so readily.

Mar.

I know it,

As far as touches torturing the living.

I thought the dead had been beyond even you, Though (some, no doubt) consign'd to powers which Resemble that you exercise on earth.

Leave him to me; you would have done so for

[may

His dregs of life, which you have kindly shorten'd:
It is my last of duties, and may prove

A dreary comfort in my desolation.
Grief is fantastical, and loves the dead,
And the apparel of the grave.

Chief of the Ten.

Pretend still to this office?

Do you

Mar.

I do, signor.

Though his possessions have been all consumed
In the state's service, I have still my dowry,
Which shall be consecrated to his rites,

And those of

[She stops with agitation.

Chief of the Ten. Best retain it for your children.
Mar. Ay, they are fatherless, I thank you.
Chief of the Ten.

We

Cannot comply with your request. His relics
Shall be exposed with wonted pomp, and follow'd
Unto their home by the new Doge, not clad
As Doge, but simply as a senator.

Mar. I have heard of murderers, who have interr'd
Their victims; but ne'er heard, until this hour,
Of so much splendour in hypocrisy

O'er those they slew. (1) I've heard of widows' tearsAlas! I have shed some-always thanks to you! I've heard of heirs in sables-you have left none To the deceased, so you would act the part

Of such. Well, sirs, your will be done! as one day, I trust, Heaven's will be done too!

Chief of the Ten.

Know, you, lady, To whom ye speak, and perils of such speech?

(1) The Venetians appear to have had a particular turn for breaking the hearts of their Doges. The following is another instance of the kind in the Doge Marco Barbarigo: he was succeeded by his brother Agostino Barbarigo, whose chief merit is here mentioned. -"Le doge, blessé de trouver constamment un contradicteur et un censeur si amer dans son frère, lui dit un jour en plein conseil: 'Messire Augustin, vous faites tout votre possible pour hâter ma mort; vous vous flattez de me succéder; mais, si les autres vous connaissent aussi-bien que je vous connais, ils n'auront garde de vous élire.' Là-dessus il se leva, ému de colère, rentra dans son appartement, et mourut quelques jours après. Ce frère, contre lequel il s'était emporté, fut précisément le successeur qu'on lui donna. C'était un mérite dont on aimait à tenir compte; surtout à un parent, de s'être mis en opposition avec le chef de la république." - DARU, Hist. de Venise, vol. ii. p. 583.

Mar. I know the former better than yourselves;

The latter

-like yourselves; and can face both.

Wish you more funerals ?

Bar. Heed not her rash words; Her circumstances must excuse her bearing. Chief of the Ten. We will not note them down. Bar. (turning to Lor.who is writing upon his tablets.) What art thou writing, With such an earnest brow, upon thy tablets? Lor. (pointing to the Doge's body). That he has paid me! (1)

Chief of the Ten. What debt did he owe you? Lor. A long and just one; Nature's debt and [Curtain falls.

mine. (2)

(1) "L'ha pagata." An historical fact. See Hist. de Venise, par P. Daru, t. ii. p. 411. [Here the original MS. ends. The two lines which follow, were added by Mr. Gifford. In the margin of the MS., Lord Byron has written,-" If the last line should appear obscure to those who do not recollect the historical fact mentioned in the first act of Loredano's inscription in his book, of Doge Foscari, debtor for the deaths of my father and uncle,' you may add the following lines to the conclusion of the last act :

Chief of the Ten. For what has he repaid thee?

Lor.

For my father's

And father's brother's death by his son's and own!

Ask Gifford about this."-E]

(2) ["But whence the deadly hate

That caused all this the hate of Loredano ?

It was a legacy his father left,

Who, but for Foscari, had reign'd in Venice,

And, like the venom in the serpent's bag,
Gather'd and grew! -

When his father died,

They whisper'd, "Twas by poison!' and the words
Struck him as utter'd from his father's grave.

He wrote it on the tomb ('tis there in marble),
And with a brow of care, most merchant-like
Among the debtors in his ledger-book
Enter'd at full (nor month, nor day forgot)
'FRANCISCO FOSCARI -for my father's death,

Leaving a blank-to be fill'd up hereafter.
When Foscari's noble heart at length gave way,
He took the volume from the shelf again
Calmly, and with his pen fill'd up the blank,
Inscribing, He has paid me.'

Ye who sit
Brooding from day to day, from day to day
Chewing the bitter cud, and starting up

As though the hour was come to whet your fangs,
And, like the Pisan, gnaw the hairy scalp
Of him who had offended-if ye must,
Sit and brood on; but oh, forbear to teach
The lesson to your children."— ROGERS.]

[Considered as poems, we confess that "Sardanapalus" and "The Two Foscari" appear to us to be rather heavy, verbose, and inelegant- deficient in the passion and energy which belongs to Lord Byron's other writings and still more in the richness of imagery, the originality of thought, and the sweetness of versification for which he used to be dis. tinguished. They are for the most part solemn, prolix, and ostentatious— lengthened out by large preparations for catastrophes that never arrive, and tantalising us with slight specimens and glimpses of a higher interest scattered thinly up and down many weary pages of pompous declamation. Along with the concentrated pathos and homestruck sentiments of his former poetry, the noble author seems also we cannot imagine why-to have discarded the spirited and melodious versification in which they were embodied, and to have formed to himself a measure equally remote from the spring and vigour of his former compositions, and from the softness and inflexibility of the ancient masters of the drama. There are some sweet lines, and many of great weight and energy; but the general march of the verse is cumbrous and unmusical. His lines do not vibrate like polished lances, at once strong and light, in the hands of his persons, but are wielded like clumsy batons in a bloodless affray. Instead of the graceful familiarity and idiomatical melodies of Shakspeare, it is apt, too, to fall into clumsy prose, in its approaches to the easy and colloquial style; and, in the loftier passages, is occasionally deformed by low and common images that harmonise but ill with the general solemnity of the diction.JEFFREY.]

THE

DEFORMED TRANSFORMED;

A DRAMA. (1)

(1) [This drama was begun at Pisa in 1821, but was not published till January, 1824. Mr. Medwin says,

"On my calling on Lord Byron one morning, he produced the 'Deformed Transformed.' Handing it to Shelley, as he was in the habit of doing his daily compositions, he said Shelley, I have been writing a Faustish kind of drama: tell me what you think of it.' After reading it attentively, Shelley returned it. 'Well,' said Lord B. how do you like it?' Least,' replied he,' of any thing I ever saw of yours. It is a bad imitation of Faust,' and besides, there are two entire lines of Southey's in it.' Lord Byron changed colour immediately, and asked hastily,' what lines? Shelley repeated,

They are in the

poem into the fire.

And water shall see thee,

And fear thee, and flee thee.'

Curse of Kehama.' His Lordship instantly threw the He seemed to feel no chagrin at seeing it consume -at least his countenance betrayed none, and his conversation became