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Search well my chamber,
Feel no remorse at bearing off the gold;
Remember, what you leave you leave the slaves
Who slew me and when you have borne away
All safe off to your boats, blow one long blast
Upon the trumpet as you quit the palace.
The river's brink is too remote, its stream
Too loud at present to permit the echo

To reach distinctly from its banks. Then fly,-
And as you sail, turn back; but still keep on
Your way along the Euphrates: if you reach
The land of Paphlagonia, where the queen
Is safe with my three sons in Cotta's court,
Say what you saw at parting, and request
That she remember what I said at one
Parting more mournful still.


That royal hand! Let me then once more press it to my lips; And these poor soldiers who throng round you, and Would fain die with you?

[The Soldiers and PANIA throng round him, kissing his hand and the hem of his robe.


My best! my last friends!
Let's not unman each other-part at once:
All farewells should be sudden, when for ever,
Else they make an eternity of moments,
And clog the last sad sands of life with tears.
Hence, and be happy: trust me, I am not
Now to be pitied, or far more for what
Is past than present ;-for the future, 't is

In the hands of the deities, if such

There be I shall know soon. Farewell-farewell. [Exeunt PANIA and the Soldiers.


These men were honest: it is comfort still

That our last looks shall be on loving faces.


And lovely ones, my beautiful!—but hear me!
If at this moment, for we now are on
The brink, thou feel'st an inward shrinking from
This leap through flame into the future, say it:
I shall not love thee less; nay, perhaps more,

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


Shall I light

One of the torches which lie heap'd beneath The ever-burning lamp that burns without, Before Baal's shrine, in the adjoining hall?


Do so. Is that thy answer?


Thou shalt see.



She's firm. My fathers! whom I will rejoin,
It may be, purified by death from some
Of the gross stains of too material being,
I would not leave your ancient first abode
To the defilement of usurping bondmen;
If I have not kept your inheritance

As ye bequeath'd it, this bright part of it,
Your treasure, your abode, your sacred relics
Of arms, and records, monuments, and spoils,
In which they would have revell'd, I bear with me
To you in that absorbing element,
Which most personifies the soul, as leaving
The least of matter unconsumed before
Its fiery working:-and the light of this
Most royal of funereal pyres shall be
Not a mere pillar form'd of cloud and flame,
A beacon in the horizon for a day,

And then a mount of ashes, but a light
To lesson ages, rebel nations, and

Voluptuous princes. Time shall quench full many
A people's records, and a hero's acts;
Sweep empire after empire, like this first
Of empires, into nothing; but even then

Shall spare this deed of mine, and hold it up
A problem few dare imitate, and none
Despise-but, it may be, avoid the life
Which led to such a consummation.

MYRRHA returns with a lighted Torch in one Hand and a Cup in the other.

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[MYRRHA fires the pile.

'Tis fired! I come.

[As MYRRHA springs forward to throw herself into the flames, the Curtain falls.


Note 1. Page 291, line 19.

And thou, my own Ionian Myrrha.

"The Ionian name had been still more comprehensive, having included the Achaians and the Baotians, who, together with those to whom it was afterwards confined, would make nearly the whole of the Greek nation, and among the orientals it was always the general name for the Greeks."-Mitford's Greece, vol. i. p. 199.

Note 2. Page 294, line 1.

The king, and son of Anacyndaraxes,
In one day built Anchialus and Tarsus.

Eat, drink and love; the rest's not worth a fillip." "For this expedition, he took not only a small chosen body of the phalanx, but all his light troops. In the first day's march he reached Anchialus, a town said to have been founded by the king of Assyria, Sardanapalus. The fortifications, in their magnitude and extent, still in Arrian's time, bore the character of greatness, which the Assyrians appear singularly to have affected in works of the kind. A monument, representing Sardanapalus, was found there, warranted by an inscription in Assyrian characters, of course in the old Assyrian language, which the Greeks, whether well or ill, interpreted thus: "Sardanapalus, son of Anacyndaraxes, in one day founded Anchialus and Tarsus. Eat, drink, play: all other human joys are not worth a fillip." Supposing this version nearly exact (for Arrian says it was not quite so) whether the purpose has not been to invite to civil order a people disposed to turbulence, rather than to recom mend immoderate luxury, may perhaps reasonably be 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

And that?

Is yours.



distant from his capital, and so divided from it by an 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 recom





Adieu, Assyria! I loved thee well, my own, my father's land, And better as my country than my kingdom.

mended, is not obvious; but it may deserve observation that, in that line of coast, the southern of Lesser Asia, ruins of cities, evidently of an age after Alexander, yet barely named in history, at this day astonish the adventurous traveller by their magnificence and elegance. Amid the desolation which, under a singularly barbarian government, has, for so many centuries, been daily spreading in the finest countries of the globe, whether

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more from soil and climate, or from opportunities for
commerce, extraordinary means must have been found
for communities to flourish there, whence it may seem
that the measures of Sardanapalus were directed by juster
views than have been commonly ascribed to him; but
that monarch having been the last of a dynasty, ended Mitford's Greece, vol. ix. pp. 311, 312, and 313.

by a revolution, obloquy on his memory would follow
of course from the policy of his successors and their

"The inconsistency of traditions concerning Sardanapalus is striking in Diodorus's account of him.”

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It is written thus.


And will you leave it unerased?

And how?


Till balanced.


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And might be the last, did they

Who rule behold us.
BARBARIGO (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!


What voice is that?-t is Barbarigo's! Ah!
Our house's foe, and one of my few judges.


To balance such a foe, if such there be,
Thy father sits amongst thy judges.

He judges.




Then deem not the laws too harsh
Which yield so much indulgence to a sire
As to allow his voice in such high matter
As the state's safety-

And his son's.

I'm faint;

Let me approach, I pray you, for a breath
Of air, yon window which o'erlooks the waters.
Enter an Officer, who whispers Barbarigo.
BARBARIGO (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

(Two Senators pass over the Stage, as in their way to Within the Council Chamber.

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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 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 1,

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 1
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,
And laughing from my lip the audacious 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
My track like a sea-bird.-I was a boy then.

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Enter an Officer.

Bring in the prisoner !



Signor, you hear the order.


Ay, I am used to such a summons; 't is
The third time they have tortured me:-then lend me
Thine arm.
[To the Guard
Take mine, sir; 't is my duty to


Be nearest to your person.


You!-you are he

Who yesterday presided o'er my pangs-
Away!-I'll walk alone.


As you please, signor;
The sentence was not of my signing, but

I dared not disobey the Council, when


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 't is issued. As
I look upon thy hands, my curdling limbs
Quiver with the anticipated wrenching,
And the cold drops strain through my brow as if
But onward-I have borne it-I can bear it.-
How looks my father?


With his wonted aspect.


So doth 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.

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[Exeunt JACOPO FOSCARI, Officer, euc Enter MEMMO and another Senator.


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