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Indulge the natural feelings of a man,
He is condemned
In a hall Open and crowded by the common rabble, 'Twas there a trembling Wife and her four Sons Yet young, a Mother, borne along, bedridden, And an old Doge, ni'ustering up all his strength, That strength how small, assembled now to meet One so long lost, long mourned, one who for them Had braved so much-death, and yet worse than death. To meet him, and to part with him for ever!
Time and their heavy wrongs had changed them all, Him most! Yet when the Wife, the Mother looked
Their only hope, and trust, and consolation !
Unnerved, unsettled in his mind from long And exquisite pain, he sobs aloud and cries, Kissing the old Man's cheek, “ Help me, my Fatheri
Let me, I pray thee, live once more among you:
Night, That to the World brought revelry, to them Brought only food for sorrow: Giacomo Embarked-to die, sent to an early grave For thee, Erizzo, whose death-bed confession, “He is most innocent! 'Twas I who did it !* Came when he slept in peace. The ship, that sailed
Bore back a lifeless corpse. Generous as brave,
Death followed. From the hour he went, he spoke not; And in his dungeon, when he laid him down,
Justice in heaven, and we are assured there is,
Then was they cup, old Man, full to o'erflowing,
But thou wert yet alive ; and there was one,
Hungering and thirsting, still unsatisfied ;
When the whelps were gone He would dislodge the Lion from his den; And, leading on the pack he long had led, The miserable pack that ever howled Against fallen greatness, moved that Foscari
His incapacity and nothingness;
Neglect of duty, anger, contumacy.
He was deposea He, who had reigned so long and gloriously; His ducal bonnet taken from his brow, His robes stript off, his ring, that ancient symbol, Broken before him. But now nothing moved The meekness of his soul. All things alike. Among the six that came with the decree, Foscari saw one he knew not, and inquired His name. “I am the son of Marco Memmo." “Ah," he replied, “ thy father was my friend." And now he goes. It is the hour and past.
I have no business here." But wilt thou not Avoid the gazing crowd? That way is private. “No! as I entered, so will I retire." And leaning on his staff, he left the palace, His residence for four and thirty years, By the same staircase he came up in splendourThe staircase of the giants. Turning round, When in the court below, he stopt and said, “ My merits brought me hither; I depart, Driven by the malice of my enemies." Then through the crowd withdrew, poor as he came, And in his gondola went off, unfollowed
This journey was his last. When the bell rung
But whence the deadly hate
Those in their zeal (and none, alas, were wanting)
He wrote it on the tomb, ('tis there in marble,)
Inscribing, “ He has paid me."
If ever you should come to Modena,
Enter the house-forget it not I pray you,
'Tis of a lady in her earliest youth, The last of that illustrious family ; Done by ZAMPIERI—but by whom I care not. He who observes it, ere he passes on, Gazes his fill, and comes and comes again, That he may call it up, when far away,