Save when vexatious cares have troubled me,
And my perturbed soul has sought for rest.
Proceed, my Contarino.

Contarino. Pausing there,

T' inhale the balmy fragrance of the breeze,
Cool'd by the fountain's waters.-There, methought,
I heard a tender sigh.

Sforza. A sigh, indeed!

A whisper of the wind-And was that all? Contarino. I started back, for in that lonely place, I know not how, I felt afraid, for I

Have heard that spirits

Sforza. Pshaw!-And was that all?

Contarino. My Lord, if you'll allow me to proceedSforza. Well, Sir, speak on.

Contarino. A voice, then, broke

On my attentive ear.

Sforza. How-what-who

Who could have dar'd thus to profane my groves
With their unhallow'd converse?-Whose was the-

Contarino. My Lord, I fear

Sforza. Speak quickly, Sir, for I-
Contarino. It was the voice of-

Sforza. Whom?

Contarino. The Princess Julia,

In conversation with some stranger, and,
As I perceiv'd, a man.

Sforza. A man!

Contarino. Yes, such, my Liege,

In amorous conference; and kisses sweet
Were interchang'd between.

Sforza. Knew'st thou the man?

Contarino. I did, my Liege: 'twas young Gonzaga,

Now tarrying in your court.

Sforaz. But art thou sure? I scarce can credit

Contarino. Believe it, Prince;

I would, indeed, 'twere false !

Sforza. Then curse upon her!

So young, yet so deceitful, I did think
That not a thought could enter in her mind
But I could fathom it. Were he her equal
I could have pardon'd her.

Contarino. He is her equal!
Sforza. How,-do you insult me?
Contarino. No, my Lord:

He is the son of Foscari.

Sforza. Thank ye, heavens!

I thank ye for this opportunity

Of crushing his vile race!-A glorious prospect
Just opens to my mind, of sated vengeance,
And gladden'd fre. Now, in my artful nets
This youth I will entangle, and then dart
Upon him as the tiger seeks his prey.
Julia, I pardon thee!--Thy love-sick folly
Shall lure this rash adventurer to his doom,
For hate is all to me. My daughter,
Dear as she is, is but an atom small,
When measur'd with revenge. Now Foscari
Have at thy hated branch.-But stop my friend;
How art thou certain this young man is such
As thou dost call him?

Contarino. Well I knew his face,

For I was at his father's oft when lastased coy hypodt i
Commission'd in my embassage to Venice, tranquil
A servant who deserted him, my prince,
lift
Inform'd me all.-That having heard at home baɔP
Of your fair daughter's beauty and sweet face,

He straight became enamour'd, and procured

Her miniature, with which his heated mind 550 or und
Daily consoled itself, till ardent passioned w* yutuq al
No longer bearing to remain content

With the mere picture, when at bright Milan 24 sea
Was the original, incited him

To leave his father, and set out, unknown, a
Upon his pilgrimage to the fair saint,

To whom his heart was pledg'd; and hither came,
That idol to adore. While his old father,
Unable to discover where he fled,

Was left to weep for his lov'd son's return.

t

Sforza. Didst thou not gather from their stolen talk,
When they appointed to hold conference
Again?

Contarino. I did, my lord, Gonzaga said,
"You will not fail me, dearest, at this hour
"To-morrow even-when the myrtle throws
"It's sweets around, and gondola soft gliding
"Adown the stream like to a fairy voice,
"Leaves as it goes a melancholy sound,
"Gentler by distance-and with dying fall,

Diminishing away-when nought is heard

"But the soft voice of music gently movings së pol "Over the surface of the trembling wave,

Calling thee to remember love and me."

"I will not fail thee," said the princess," then."

Sforza. Ha! is it so? then they shall have, by heaven,

A witness little look'd for, Contarino.

Mark that thou meet'st me, then, beside the tow'r,
Embroidered with wild flowers, where unperceiv'd

We may steal on them and be auditors:

Of their love-converse. Then will I determine
How I shall lead this youth to his destruction;
Be punctual.

Contarino. I will be there, my Lord.

SCENE II. A Street in Milan.

[Exeunt, separately.

Pisani. Hail to thee, friend! Methinks thy looks to-day Are not so blithe as heretofore what news!

From Venus' busy court hath anger'd thee?stanla yal
Thy looks, so full of sweet placidity,

2

Have grown as ireful as the Gorgon's sconce, una var! I
As gloomy as the night.

Vitelli. By heaven's bright face,

And Julia's too, thou hast not augur'd ill;

For unaccustom'd as I am to brook

The scornful airs of beauty, I did feel

Last night, when at the ball, the flippant princess lab

Did leave me for her minion Gonzaga,

A something worse than torture.

Pisani. (laughing). What, Vitelli ?

Poor jealous soul! art thou at last, then, struck ?AKAN

My grounds for slight, which I shall ne'er forget;
"Twas but the other day she left my talk,
And tripp'd away to where Gonzaga stood;

When on my knees I woo'd her haughty glance,
And pour'd my studied diction in her ear;

Such and so great affront I ne'er receiv'd.

Vitelli. But why should we ourselves disquiet thus?

Let us cast off the galling marks of scorn,

And tear them from our minds, leaving them all
To Cupid's warmer votaries.

We are not gallants of the rank that you
Ladies' monopolists. We are obliged
To come in for the second course, while you,
Love's standard-bearers, ever carry off
The foremost place of glory-but we will not
Disturb your converse by our presence longer.

[Exeunt PISANI and VITELLI.

Gonzaga. There go two courtiers, true as ever wore

Their ensigns on their brow---two precious fools,

Who love their own dear selves too well to need

The armour that repels the darts of love.

Vicenti. Weak as they are, my lord, they've yet the pow'r

To harm your purposes; for the fell asp,

Small as it was, could wound the beauteous breast

Lov'd of Mark Anthony.

Gonzaga. I fear them not;

They are too weak to do me injury.

Vicenti. But they have yet the will---O my
my entreaties now prevail upon you

Let

To hasten back to Venice, and your father,

dear prince,

Whose aged eyes are almost blind with weeping
For his dear son; and ere his sorrow kills him,
To light his face with joy.

Gonzaga. My good Vicenti,

Thinkest thou this absence from my home delights me,
But as it suits my love ?---Wer't not for Julia,
My father ne'er should mourn his absent son;

Eur. Mag. Vol. 82.

R

Nantes Nor will that absence be lamented by him¡A „031012

When the world's paragon, my lovely Julia, on od dìxH
Shall greet his aged sight, and the Realtow Jon ed bil
Shall sound with admiration's loud acclaim.m mert 19H

Vicenti. But know you not what perils here await you,
Where Sforza, deadly foe to all your race,393 tes sé rift
Dominion holds, who would no more his daughter of
Wed to your arms than would the crocodile ia svieson
Lodge with the crested snake. ea súd to books of bi
Gonzaga. Peril, however,

Must not be thought of, was the golden fleeces
The guerdon of the slumberer ? what were beauty,(on
Did not encircling danger guard its charms ? azola
Vicenti. But tell me, has the beauteous princess yet!
Consented to accompany your flight } rad cd birodė
To Venice, and become your consort there ?t otell
Gonzaga. She has not yet, but I have long intended
To move my suit with her to take that step;
And knowing, as she does, that from her fathers voye
To seek consent were madness, she will listen,
I have no doubt, unto my fond proposal:
To-night I have appointed for our meeting,
Within the garden of the palace, where
You must wait for me, then we will resolve
What measure to adopt.

[Exeunt VICENT

Gonzaga. Delightful Julia! fairest of thy sex hue
And ever most sincere: what other lovers
Gain but by inroads and cold coquetry, ernes Þó tal
Thou hast at once bestow'd; pure as the snow,

Yet not so comfortless, still ever prompt to grant
What generous nobleness of heart may give;
Yet chaste as Dian's priestess: what can pay
Thy matchless bounty, or suffice to shew
Thy zeal and adoration? be it mine
To strew for ever round thy lovely path
Life's sweetest roses, and defend thy form

From the rude gales that might perchance destroy it.
But now to Strozzi's palace, who hath bid me
To his carousal; and from thence I go

With rapture and with transport to my love.

[Exeur

SCENE III.-The Garden, as before described.→→→Moonlight.

Enter SFORZA and CONTARINO2H1C1 5AW

Sforza. This was the place?
Contarino. It was, my Lord.

Sforza. Here will I wait until they come, as waits
The fierce impatient panther, he lurks

Behind the bush, and marks his prey approaching;
And though with famine furious, still he keeps and
His post conceal'd, and recks not of delay,

So that he gain his destin'd victim's blood, of atleath
To glut his ravenous hunger. w 193 ala bi moÏ A
Contarino. Why these words,ned war jod MUNTAN
Why do you harbour such a vengeful hates

'Gainst Foscari's cursed race ?15 d w Jaivrati a
Sforza. I hate them all- CM 10 sv» Mc

Venice, and Foscari, all.

Contarino. Why so, my Lord? In 9612A

46.00h, a tedi Hardi tori

Sforza. And dost thou ask, thou ask that foolish question?
Hath he not overstepp'd me, gain'd my all 2
Did he not, when I woo'd Vittoria, tear
Her from my arms, and gain her as his bride?
And in the war when last we were engag'd,
Did he not tear the laurels from my brow,
To make a wreath for him? And can, I then,
Forgive him? Yea, I will have his blood,
And the blood of his son, dearer than his,
To glut my stern revenge.

Contarino. And can you purpose

So shallow a revenge, as to destroy
Gonzaga in the presence of his mistress?

He has a friend with him, who will, no doubt,
Should he be missing, carry straight the news
Unto the Doge, who, to revenge his fall,
Will rouse his people, and create a war
Destructive to you both.

Sforza. No, Contarino,

That would be compensation small indeed,
For injuries so great. I will proceed,
Mole-like, in my revenge, and undermine
Their boasted happiness. Yes, Sir, my plan
Is sure: though I go inch by inch, yet, still,
When once it is accomplish'd, all will fall
Tway Like the last consummation, when the world
Shall fall to ashes crumble into dust.

Contarino. But hist, my Lord, their footsteps now approach :-
Let us conceal ourselves.

(They retire.)

Julia. How still is all the scene! See, where the moon
Illumes, with paly lustre, the bright sheen
Of verdant leaf and rosy blossoming,
Shedding a flood of day. Cynthia, hail!
Oh, how I love to view thy halcyon light!
Calmness itself is slow: to look at thee,

And think of deeds of bloodshed, were, methinks,
Impossible: so pure and virgin-fair

Is thy clear beam.

Isabella. To you, my honour'd Lady,

Such contemplations may be profitable,
But I feel nothing but the damp night-air,

And think of nothing but the midnight ruffian,
Who lurks to stab the lonesome passenger;
But heaven protects us. Why delays so long
The Cavalier Gonzaga?

Julia. Hark! I hear his tread.

GONZAGA without.

Gonzaga. Wait, good Vicenti, until I return.→→

Health to thee, my sweet Julia! Never bent
A Persian to his God with more devotion,
When he, new-born, ascends the firmament,
Than I to thee; nor ever did there come
A Dervise with more sanctity of love
To Mecca or Medina's holy shrine,
Than now comes thy Gonzaga.si,
Julia. Arise, my Lord,

Nor think that my affection glows less warmly;

(Enters,)