That justice, sternly virtuous, never dies,

Though oft her slumbers wear the mask of death.

Fra. (rising.) Why, then, build sepulchres and mausoleums, In which to bury all thy hopes? 'Tis folly.

'Rom. (aside.) What have I lived for?

'Fra.

As I breathe,no insult!

'Rom. What have I lived for! To be mock'd? contemn'd?

Nay, now, I'll answer this astounding question.
And when I have, do thou proclaim full loud,

If it is folly to receive a wrong,

And then complain, that justice is a sluggard.
Hither; come hither.

Form ye

(Aside.) I'll rehearse my story. Enter Officers.

in semicircle space, and listen.

My native town is Venice :-but my father,

Charm'd with the air of Naples, sojourn'd there,
With me, and others of our house, three months

In every year. Our ruin;-I anticipate!

The king, King Ferdinand -gave a splendid banquet.
There I first saw, I see her still!—Francesca ;
Sitting, in regal splendour, by the side

Of her famed uncle, Ferdinand. She seem'd
Like one from heaven; delighting every eye.

Rich gems adorn'd her; but no gems could equal

The liquid lustre of those dark-blue eyes,

Which beam'd like Venus in the vernal heaven.

Such charms! Excuse me ;-though these locks are grey, 'Tis not with age. They open'd like the rose

Through the green fringes of its mossy woof;

Rising mid petals, that in valley hang

Their pensive heads; and from their snowy cells

Throw a rich fragrance o'er the evening air.

'Fra. (to LEPARDO.) Bleach'd are his locks; cerulean all his soul ! 'Rom. I loved her not as those do, who are lapt

In luxury, vanity, and indolence;

But as a man, who knows what sterling good
Springs ever verdant in a heart, where love
Rises and sets in purity and peace.

I saw and sigh'd in silent admiration,

Full many a day; and days with love, are ages.
This all men know, who know the force of love.
At length, one evening, I beheld her, sitting
In the king's bower, all silent and alone.
Trembling I stopt :-I knew not what to do!
I stopt! when on the pinions of the air,
Such streams of melody entranced my soul,
I could have listen'd till the doom of day:
Had I not heard, " my Julio, Julio, Julio !"
Drop from her lips;-half-smother'd with a sigh.
I stood awhile in breathless rapture then

Stole to the bower, surprised her in her love,
Knelt at her feet, and begg'd an angel's pardon.

'Fra. Stand on this side, Lepardo. Thou'rt too eager. Lep. All are too eager: I correct myself.

'Fra. Stand all apart; nor crowd around him thus.
'Rom. Frowning she answer'd; would have fled, but I,
Arm'd with high rank, and heir to large possessions,
Press'd my lorn suit so earnestly, that she

Listen'd; then smiled; then gave me leave to woo;
Should the good king approve the generous choice.
'Lep. The king consented, I am certain.

• Fra.

Hush!

'Rom. I sought the monarch. “A Venetian Noble, Sprung from the noblest family in Rome,

"Claims rank with princes;" said the king. I woo'd; The maid consented; and we married.

Heaven-what a height for mortal man to fall from!

'Rom. I've stol'n an arrow,‚—a deep,—piercing arrow— From the wide quiver of revenge, depend on. Six momentary years pass'd over us.

I should have told ye, that Schidoni, too,

Long had the captivating maiden loved.

She hated;-nay, she loathed him. At a banquet,
To which we bade king Ferdinand's royal court,
And to which he,-the viper! as king's chamberlain,
Was by constraint, invited :-I deserved

A thousand deaths for such an invitation!
The banquet over, all retired to slumber.
Would it had lasted, till the death of time!
But sleep had scarcely visited these lids,
When, such an agonizing shriek! On waking,
What was the scene my frenzied eyes beheld?
Francesca-

Oh the good gods !-am I alive to tell it!
Francesca, bleeding at my side; struck dead
With mine own dagger,-quivering in her side!
Peace, peace; be silent: utter not one word.

[Draws a circle round him with his sword.

Now, may I never from this circle move,
If I speak aught, but what the Gods might hear!
Th' assassin fled in silence from my chamber;
Crept to his couch; thence issuing at the shrieks,
With which I raised the palace, he proclaim'd
ME the assassin :-jealousy of him!

'Fra. Was this Schidoni?

• Fra.

An agony like this'Rom. I meant no insult: by St. Mark, I meant none. Nay, nay, forgive me :-I am sore all over!

All Naples rose! and though 'twas midnight, winter,
And rain descending in such torrents, that

It seem'd as if the last, lond, trump had sounded,
And the whole earth dissolving into nought;
Yet every street, lane, alley, terrace, court,
Garret and roof, resounded with the charge,
That I, that I,-that I,-had stabb'd my wife,
And thrown the horrific crime upon Schidoni!

'Fra. Wretch-wretch ;-a caitiff of iniquity.

Rom. Those friends, who loved me, as they sometime

swore,

More than themselves;-my well-dress'd, well-fed, friends,
All deck'd in rings, and diamond-hilted swords,
What did those friends amid my deep distress?
Forsake me like a pestilence. My servants,
Bless'd, and thrice bless'd, be every one of them!

My servants wept; and clothed themselves in mourning.
May the great Spirit give paradise to them all.

Fra. What did the people in this trying hour?

'Rom. Throng round my palace like ten thousand

hornets.

'Fra. And did they seize upon thee, signor?

'Rom.

Seize ?

Oh my dear father-oh my sacred mother,—
That ye should live to see a night like that!
They throated me; and to the prison gates
Dragg'd me, loud hissing all the way, like serpents.
Children cried monster; women shriek'd shrill curses;
Men shouted death; and dogs were taught to howl,
Whene'er the word, Romano, cross'd their ears.
Schidoni pension'd witnesses. They swore;
Naples believed ;-Romano was undone !
They would not hear one word in my defence.
They held me only as a denizen ;

Rich, great, and noble ;-therefore to be hated.
I was condemn'd unheard ;-ruin'd; undone !
My wife, my daughter, fame, and fortune,-all-
In one short hour:-Too much for human strength !
My mind;-I'm ruin'd: all, the world contains,
Could never recompense my soul.
Beyond all power of medicine.

Fra.

'Rom. Would I could think so.

I'm shatter'd,

No, no!

Yes, my mind is ruin'd.

They took my child;—I know not whither! Never

From that sad moment have I heard of her.

My mother-dumb-struck! died in speechless horror.
My father saw me, like a felon, dragg'd

Through a loud, hissing, populace, to my prison.

grey;

Then sought the bloody death-bed chamber; where
-Th' horrific scene!-his raven hair turn'd
Wild palsy seized his venerable frame;
Down sunk he on the clotted bed; and died,
In laughing madness, on Francesco's corse.
The good, the wise, the excellent old man!

'Lep. Save, or he falls!

· Fra.

[Hides his face in his robe.

Such labyrinths of woe

Would bend the stoutest of mankind: Lean here.

'Rom. Not so: a monument of agony

Shall prove a pyramid of strength. (Hysterically.)
Whoo-loo!

Lep. Well, as I live, I never heard aught like it!
'Rom. Amid these mountains once a hermit lived.
His food dry berries, and his drink the dews,
Distill'd from leaves of olives. He-; but stay;
My mind is wandering in the clouds: my tale?
Where left I? I'm bewilder'd! where, where left I?
Schidoni pension'd witnesses I say.

All, all believed. Amid the senseless town,
One man alone, except my faithful servants,
One man alone was found with mind to doubt,
And heart to pity. He believed me wrong'd.
He was my gaoler, and a wonder.

He

I saved his brother, when a boy, from drowning.
Ah me -ye weep. I thank, I thank ye, brothers.
'Fra. We need not blush to shed a tear at this.
'Rom. He was, I say, a wonder :-he was grateful!
Applied the balm of comfort to my heart,

And ope'd his gates in secrecy. I fled!

The court sent messengers to Venice, Rome,

Milan, and all the states of Italy,

With threats against their senates, should they screen me.

In this extremity, for years I lived,

Amid these mountains, where the sun shines never,
Hopeless, nay desolate; agonized with wrong,
Accusing man, and almost doubting heaven.
At length, I heard my best and earliest friend
Is chos'n to fill the ducal chair of Venice.
Then I applied for succour and revenge.
This is my tale of injury. For this,
I've sworn eternal vengeance to Schidoni;
And for believing his enormous charge,
And hearing not one word in my defence,
Have I vow'd death to all the sons of Naples.

• Fra. And we'll assist thee in thy just revenge. Rom. My heart's all gratitude.'-pp. 61-71. Great changes now take place upon the scene.

Velutri followed

up his first remorse of conscience by disclosing what had taken place to the king of Naples, who convinced of Fontano's innocence, goes

forth in order to find and save the old man, attended only by a few followers. They met with Fontano in the neighbourhood of Romano's camp, and the villainy of Schidoni being now made apparent in one instance, the king suspects that Romano also was the victim of accusations equally false, and prevails on Fontano to repair with him to the presence of the injured Venetian, and to introduce himself and one of his companions, as pilgrims. The expectations, however, to which this meeting gives rise, are singularly marred for awhile by one of the most ridiculous scenes, if such it can be called, that we have ever beheld. The fancy of the author must have been over-excited and rendered feverish, when it gave birth to such a conception. The scene is on the sea-shore. A few ships are seen passing and repassing in the distance; with a vast number of hawks, puffins, guillemots, and other sea-birds hovering over the cliffs. A lunar rainbow stretches from side to side. Towards the south, opens a small valley, over which stretches an aqueduct ; connecting the outward wall of the castle with the side of the opposite mountain.' Now to what does all this grand preparation lead? What are we to see next? Fracastro, the poet, sitting near the buttress of one of the arches! And what is he doing? Examining a rose! Upon this flower he dwells for awhile: then he takes up his manuscripts and begins to read them; several nightingales are then heard among the trees, whose song of course gives rise to an eulogy upon the bird; he next strikes his lyre, whereupon the nightingales resume their notes, which again are complimented! In order to comprehend the vicious taste with which the remainder of this precious scene is imagined, we need but look at what may be called the stage directions.

[Several stags pass under the arches grazing. Others are seen moving timidly among the branches. Some stop to drink at a small fountain, overhung with olives, sycamores, and mountain ash.']

Then follows a rhapsody upon the said stags, and something about Numidian wilds, and columns of sand and clouds, and serpents, the mirage, and the simoom! But even this mood of inspiration is fairly distanced by the next stage direction:

"[A breath of air flows from the valley, scattering a shower of wild rose leaves; and the lyre moved by the wind, emits a melancholy sound.'] We omit the poetic flight of Fracastro upon this interference of Eolus. The whole scene is a lamentable specimen of the sickliness of thought into which the mind may be betrayed by following, in a moment of great excitement, the unquestioned guidance of the imagination. A great deal of the conversation which follows between Fracastro and Romano is scarcely of a better description. At length Lorenzo and Lavinia present themselves before Romano, and the language of true passion returns to the poem. Lorenzo however meets with a most unlooked for reception. Being asked. by Romano whether he knew a person of that name formerly, he