Poems, translated and original

_A Street._--_Enter_ VINCENTIO _and_ LEONARDO, _with other citizens_.

Vincentio. Talk not of patience here! On every pleasure Some spy doth watch, in mirth’s unguarded hour To seize stray thoughts which haply may transgress The straitened bounds of prudence.

Leonardo. Hush! you tread Close on its limits now. The mighty ones Are like the gods, invisible and present.

Vincentio. Aye, like the gods too, that their cunning visits Their destined victims with a wholesome madness! By Heaven! I’d rather grapple with the Hun, Or serve the turbaned Turk, than linger life out In such concealed bondage! ’Twas but now, Even at the masque, I saw the peering eyes Of that dark villain, Steno, fixed upon me. I’ve marked him oft--he serves the state in secret! Mine arm ached for the dagger, as I watched His lowering face.

Leonardo. Are you alone in fear? Our Senators----

Vincentio. Are tigers clothed in robes.

Leonardo. Not all. Yet when the voice of mirth is heard, If they appear, in terror steals away Each startled reveller, and all around Is silent as the grave--

Vincentio. To which they doom The luckless murmurers.

Leonardo. Hush! some one approaches. The Signor Loredano, and another. In converse, too.

Vincentio. Some double, unheard crime They ponder.

Leonardo. Let us go.

[_Exeunt._

_Enter_ CONTARINI _and_ LOREDANO.

Contarini. Chafe not at idle words.

Loredano. I am not wont To let them move me. In another age The stain of insult must be washed with blood, Or it grew rank, and spread unsightliness On him that bore it. Now, though thrice reviled, Thrice, at the banquet, in these times the steel ’Tis dangerous to wield. Hate is resisted By wisdom.

Contarini. And let wisdom vanquish hate. And now to softer themes. Wilt go with me Where pleasure ever waits to greet the guest?

Loredano. The lady Fiorilla’s?

Contarini. Fiorilla! Shame! in a tone where bitterness so lately Hath dwelt, to breathe her name--were not that name Of power to sweeten all! Hear but her voice-- Oh! the dull spheres, to hear it, might descend, Lessoned by music sweeter than their own! ’Twill charm the evil spirit from your soul, As the enamored bard of old beguiled Hell’s guilty prisoners to a transient bliss, And won the bride he loved from Pluto’s arms!

Loredano. You love this syren?

Contarini. Nay--to shrines so fair, Kneeling, we offer passionate vows, but dream not Of single worship. Would the sun in heaven, That fills the world with glory, treasure up His gathered beams for one poor mortal’s gaze? Or if he might, would not the dazzling tide O’erwhelm his votary? Fiorilla’s charms Were never made for one--and all who share The sunlight of her smile, may bask in safety; It shines on all alike.

Loredano. You know I seek not A lady’s favor. May your hopes grow ripe Beneath her cherishing glance!

Contarini. My dearest hopes Are elsewhere fixed.

Loredano. So fickle a gallant!

Contarini. Your pardon! The majestic flower that spreads Its beauties to the open eye of day All may admire, and quaff its bounteous fragrance. But love we less some gentle, shrinking bud, That blooms but for our gaze?

Loredano. Ha! and who plays The treasured blossom to your miser’s bower?

Contarini. A lovely, and a stately one; full soon To be transplanted to that genial soil. To night my vows I pay where hundreds more Will emulate my worship. Will you go?

Loredano. I’ll join you soon. [_Exit_ LOREDANO.

Contarini. He’ll serve my purpose well. His anger is well-timed: it gives a color To my intent, which makes all doubly sure. This for the marble that so meetly yawns For secret accusations. Loredano Must aid my labors, while I reap the fruit. [_Exit._