SCENE VI.—Interior of the Ducal Church of St. Mark—Funeral procession of Olympia and Serassi. The Doge, Monteno, Mourners, Guards, Noblemen, &c.—Bell at intervals—Music.
Doge. Ere they be laid within the monument,
Let me in presence of these noble friends
And good Venetians, whose fast streaming eyes
Do follow the sad fashion of mine own,
O'er the cold relics of this hapless pair
Give my grief vent in words, and to their worth
Pay their last mournful tribute of my tongue.
Both young! both noble! Did a mother wish
A bright example for her daughter's guide?
Olympia first was nam'd—would some fond sire
Direct the dawning ardor of his son,
Serassi's fame was mention'd as the mark,
The beacon whose fair light should lead him safe
O'er the dark billows of life's stormy sea.
O, you who look upon this laden bier,
Let its great moral sink into your hearts,
However, bright the rosy wreath may shine,
Which crowns the jocund brow of youth to-day,
To-morrow's eve may see its buds untwin’d,
For grief to scatter on the wearer's shroud.
Alas! my sorrow like a wayward child
Doth quarrel with the med'cine for its pain,
And choaks the utt'rance which itself first prompted.
Proceed you in your solemn ceremony. [Noise, r.
How now! what sacrilegious footstep thus
Breaks rudely in upon these holy rites?
Enter Ugolino with his sword drawn, and bloody, bearing the body of Angelica in his arms, covered with a cloak.
Doge. Who art thou?
Ugo. Dost thou not know me? 'Tis despair,
From the abyss of ever burning hell,
Where on the footstool of the great fiend's throne,
I sit and form dark snares for wavering souls,
I come to grace these nuptials of the grave,
And bring my bridal off ring. Look upon it.
[Tears off cloak and discovers body.
Doge. Lay hands upon the murderer. [Guards advance.
Ugo. Stand off!
Or in my heart I plunge this reeking sword,
And with me dies a tale worth ev'ry gem
That studs thy ducal crown. Ha! ha! ha!
'Tis a brave story! hear it, Doge of Venice!
I slew Serassi! This same crimson blade
Now smoking with the guiltless blood of her
Whom first I robbed of honor, then of life.
This blade performed the deed—I bent above him,
Whilst the hot stream gush'd bubbling from his side,
And gazed with gloating eye on his clench'd teeth,
And writhing lip in that last agony.
Mont. (l.) Accursed wretch! what mov'd thee to the act?
Ugo. What mov'd me to't ? was't not well done, old man?
To murder him who sacrificed my peace;
But here! look here! this was the crowning crime,
This was hell's greatest triumph. She—she lov'd me,
Lov'd me who ruin'd her! follow'd my fortunes
Through sunshine, and thro' storm, and I—I kill'd her.
My brain whirls round! What brings thee here, Olympia?
Hence with thy bloody bridegroom—Oh, 'tis I
Must join your hands. Well, well, I'll do it—there,
Do ye laugh, scoffers—get ye to your graves,
And revel with the worm—We'll come anon,
I and Angelica.
Doge. (r.) Let him be secured—
Ugo. Ha! would'st thou part us
Nay, then—thus—thus I foil thee, Doge. [stabs himself.
There—there!
There's blood for blood, and with the self same weapon.
Why look! they're here again. Aye, I remember
The words are ringing in mine ears. O, murderer,
In thine own death pang think of this dark hour,
And let thy soul despair. Vanish'd! I'll follow them,
Down to hell's centre! Come, my bride—Angelica! [Dies
Let me in presence of these noble friends
And good Venetians, whose fast streaming eyes
Do follow the sad fashion of mine own,
O'er the cold relics of this hapless pair
Give my grief vent in words, and to their worth
Pay their last mournful tribute of my tongue.
Both young! both noble! Did a mother wish
A bright example for her daughter's guide?
Olympia first was nam'd—would some fond sire
Direct the dawning ardor of his son,
Serassi's fame was mention'd as the mark,
The beacon whose fair light should lead him safe
O'er the dark billows of life's stormy sea.
O, you who look upon this laden bier,
Let its great moral sink into your hearts,
However, bright the rosy wreath may shine,
Which crowns the jocund brow of youth to-day,
To-morrow's eve may see its buds untwin’d,
For grief to scatter on the wearer's shroud.
Alas! my sorrow like a wayward child
Doth quarrel with the med'cine for its pain,
And choaks the utt'rance which itself first prompted.
Proceed you in your solemn ceremony. [Noise, r.
How now! what sacrilegious footstep thus
Breaks rudely in upon these holy rites?
Enter Ugolino with his sword drawn, and bloody, bearing the body of Angelica in his arms, covered with a cloak.
Doge. Who art thou?
Ugo. Dost thou not know me? 'Tis despair,
From the abyss of ever burning hell,
Where on the footstool of the great fiend's throne,
I sit and form dark snares for wavering souls,
I come to grace these nuptials of the grave,
And bring my bridal off ring. Look upon it.
[Tears off cloak and discovers body.
Doge. Lay hands upon the murderer. [Guards advance.
Ugo. Stand off!
Or in my heart I plunge this reeking sword,
And with me dies a tale worth ev'ry gem
That studs thy ducal crown. Ha! ha! ha!
'Tis a brave story! hear it, Doge of Venice!
I slew Serassi! This same crimson blade
Now smoking with the guiltless blood of her
Whom first I robbed of honor, then of life.
This blade performed the deed—I bent above him,
Whilst the hot stream gush'd bubbling from his side,
And gazed with gloating eye on his clench'd teeth,
And writhing lip in that last agony.
Mont. (l.) Accursed wretch! what mov'd thee to the act?
Ugo. What mov'd me to't ? was't not well done, old man?
To murder him who sacrificed my peace;
But here! look here! this was the crowning crime,
This was hell's greatest triumph. She—she lov'd me,
Lov'd me who ruin'd her! follow'd my fortunes
Through sunshine, and thro' storm, and I—I kill'd her.
My brain whirls round! What brings thee here, Olympia?
Hence with thy bloody bridegroom—Oh, 'tis I
Must join your hands. Well, well, I'll do it—there,
Do ye laugh, scoffers—get ye to your graves,
And revel with the worm—We'll come anon,
I and Angelica.
Doge. (r.) Let him be secured—
Ugo. Ha! would'st thou part us
Nay, then—thus—thus I foil thee, Doge. [stabs himself.
There—there!
There's blood for blood, and with the self same weapon.
Why look! they're here again. Aye, I remember
The words are ringing in mine ears. O, murderer,
In thine own death pang think of this dark hour,
And let thy soul despair. Vanish'd! I'll follow them,
Down to hell's centre! Come, my bride—Angelica! [Dies
SLOW CURTAIN.
THE END.