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No access to the Duke! You have not said That the Count Maddalo would speak with him?

PIGNA.

Did you inform his Grace that Signor Pigna
Waits with state papers for his signature?

MALPIGLIO.

The Lady Leonora cannot know

That I have written a sonnet to her fame,
In which I

Venus and Adonis.

You should not take my gold and serve me not.

1 This fragment, from the Relics of Shelley, was introduced by Mr. Garnett with the following note :—' :-"I have devoted,' Shelley wrote from Milan, April 20, 1818, this summer, and indeed the next year, to the composition of a tragedy on the subject of Tasso's madness; which I find upon inspection is, if properly treated, admirably dramatic and poetical.' Brief and slight as the following fragment is, it is highly interesting, as affording some clue to the manner in which Shelley would have treated a subject which he long meditated, and never, perhaps, finally abandoned. It would appear that the envy of court

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iers and Tasso's rivals would have been among the principal elements of the action; the piece would conse quently have borne little resemblance to Goethe's Tasso, which it is doubtful whether Shelley ever read. No subject could have been more congenial to the latter. He was probably withheld from attempting it by the appearance of Byron's Lament of Tasso, and his reluctance to enter into appa rent competition with a friend, to whose genius his modesty, confirmed by the unanimous voice of his contemporaries, induced him to assign an unmerited pre-eminence over his own."

ALBANO.

In truth I told her, and she smiled and said, "If I am Venus, thou, coy Poesy

Art the Adonis whom I love, and he

The Erymanthian boar that wounded him."

O trust to me, Signor Malpiglio,

Those nods and smiles were favours worth the zechin.

MALPIGLIO.

The words are twisted in some double sense
That I reach not: the smiles fell not on me.

PIGNA.

How are the Duke and Duchess occupied ?

ALBANO.

Buried in some strange talk. The Duke was leaning,
His finger on his brow, his lips unclosed.
The Princess sate within the window-seat,

And so her face was hid; but on her knee

Her hands were clasped, veinèd, and pale as snow,
And quivering-young Tasso, too, was there.

MADDALO.

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Thou seest on whom from thine own worshipped heaven Thou drawest down smiles-they did not rain on thee.

MALPIGLIO.

Would they were parching lightnings for his sake

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On whom they fell!

SONG FOR "TASSO."1

I.

I LOVED-alas! our life is love;

But when we cease to breathe and move
I do suppose love ceases too.

I thought, but not as now I do,

Keen thoughts and bright of linked lore,
Of all that men had thought before,
And all that nature shows, and more.

II.

And still I love and still I think,
But strangely, for my heart can drink
The dregs of such despair, and live,
And love;

And if I think, my thoughts come fast,
I mix the present with the past,
And each seems uglier than the last.

III.

Sometimes I see before me flee

A silver spirit's form, like thee,
O Leonora, and I sit

Still watching it,

Till by the grated casement's ledge
It fades, with such a sigh, as sedge
Breathes o'er the breezy streamlet's edge.

1 First given by Mrs. Shelley in the Posthumous Poems, 1824, and placed in the collected editions, among poems of 1818. I have not thought it neces

sary to preserve the indications of hiatus at the end of the fourth line of stanza II, and the beginning of the fourth line of stanza III.

MARENGHL1

I.

LET those who pine in pride or in revenge,
Or think that ill for ill should be repaid,
Or barter wrong for wrong, until the exchange
Ruins the merchants of such thriftless trade,
Visit the tower of Vado, and unlearn
Such bitter faith beside Marenghi's urn.

II.

A massy tower yet overhangs the town,

A scattered group of ruined dwellings now.

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Another scene ere wise Etruria knew

Its second ruin through internal strife,

And tyrants through the breach of discord threw
The chain which binds and kills. As death to life,
As winter to fair flowers (though some be poison)
So Monarchy succeeds to Freedom's foison.

IV.

In Pisa's church a cup of sculptured gold
Was brimming with the blood of feuds forsworn

1 Mrs. Shelley gave stanzas VII to XV of this fragment in the Posthumous Poems. The rest was transcribed by Mr. Garnett, from a Note Book in Sir Percy Shelley's possession, and first appeared in Mr. Rossetti's edition. Mrs. Shelley inscribed at the end Naples, 1818. Mr. Rossetti adds December. In Mrs. Shelley's editions the title is given as Mazenghi; and the following note is added: "This fragment refers to an event, told in

Sismondi's Histoire des Républiques Italiennes, which occurred during the war when Florence finally subdued Pisa, and reduced it to a province. The opening stanzas are addressed to the conquering city." Mr. Rossetti was the first editor who appears to have taken the trouble to refer to Sismondi and ascertain that the hero's name was Marenghi. The "opening stanza" in Mrs. Shelley's editions is that numbered VII in this edition.

At sacrament: more holy ne'er of old
Etrurians mingled with the shades forlorn
Of moon-illumined forests.

V.

And reconciling factions wet their lips

With that dread wine, and swear to keep each spirit Undarkened by their country's last eclipse.

*

VI.

Was Florence the liberticide? that band
Of free and glorious brothers who had planted,
Like a green isle 'mid Æthiopian sand,

A nation amid slaveries, disenchanted
Of many impious faiths-wise, just-do they,
Does Florence, gorge the sated tyrants' prey?

VII.

O foster-nurse of man's abandoned glory,

Since Athens, its great mother, sunk in splendour; Thou shadowest forth that mighty shape in story,

As ocean its wrecked fanes, severe yet tender:The light-invested angel Poesy

Was drawn from the dim world to welcome thee.

VIII.

And thou in painting didst transcribe all taught
By loftiest meditations; marble knew

The sculptor's fearless soul-and as he wrought,
The grace of his own power and freedom grew.

And more than all, heroic, just, sublime,
Thou wert among the false-was this thy crime?

IX.

Yes; and on Pisa's marble walls the twine

Of direst weeds hangs garlanded--the snake

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