ACT V

EnterPuccioandJacopo.Puc.What Luria will do? Ah, 'tis yours, fair sir,Your and your subtle-witted master's part,To tell me that; I tell you what he can.Jac.Friend, you mistake my station: I observeThe game, watch how my betters play, no more.Puc.But mankind are not pieces—there's your fault!You cannot push them, and, the first move made,Lean back and study what the next shall be,In confidence that, when 'tis fixed upon,You find just where you left them, blacks and whites:Men go on moving when your hand's away.You build, I notice, firm on Luria's faithThis whole time,—firmlier than I choose to build,Who never doubted it—of old, that is—With Luria in his ordinary mind.But now, oppression makes the wise man mad:How do I know he will not turn and standAnd hold his own against you, as he may?Suppose he but withdraw to Pisa—well,—Then, even if all happen to your wish,Which is a chance ...Jac.Nay—'twas an oversight,Not waiting till the proper warrant came:You could not take what was not ours to give.But when at night the sentence really comes,Our city authorizes past disputeLuria's removal and transfers the charge,You will perceive your duty and accept?Puc.Accept what? muster-rolls of soldiers' names?An army upon paper? I want men,The hearts as well as hands—and where's a heartBut beats with Luria, in the multitudeI come from walking through by Luria's side?You gave them Luria, set him thus to grow,Head-like, upon their trunk; one heart feeds both,They feel him there, live twice, and well know why.—For they do know, if you are ignorant,Who kept his own place and respected theirs,Managed their sweat, yet never spared his blood.All was your act: another might have served—There's peradventure no such dearth of heads—But you chose Luria: so, they grew one flesh,And now, for nothing they can understand,Luria removed, off is to roll the head;The body's mine—much I shall do with it!Jac.That's at the worst.Puc.No—at the best, it is!Best, do you hear? I saw them by his side.Only we two with Luria in the campAre left that keep the secret? You think that?Hear what I know: from rear to van, no heartBut felt the quiet patient hero thereWas wronged, nor in the moveless ranks an eyeBut glancing told its fellow the whole storyOf that convicted silent knot of spiesWho passed through them to Florence; they might pass—No breast but gladlier beat when free of such!Our troops will catch up Luria, close him round,Bear him to Florence as their natural lord,Partake his fortune, live or die with him.Jac.And by mistake catch up along with himPuccio, no doubt, compelled in self despiteTo still continue second in command!Puc.No, sir, no second nor so fortunate!Your tricks succeed with me too well for that!I am as you have made me, live and dieTo serve your end—a mere trained fighting-hack,With words, you laugh at while they leave your mouth,For my life's rule and ordinance of God!I have to do my duty, keep my faith,And earn my praise, and guard against my blame,As I was trained. I shall accept your charge,And fight against one better than myself,Spite of my heart's conviction of his worth—That, you may count on!—just as hithertoI have gone on, persuaded I was wronged,Slighted, insulted, terms we learn by rote,—All because Luria superseded me—Because the better nature, fresh-inspired,Mounted above me to its proper place!What mattered all the kindly graciousness,The cordial brother's-bearing? This was clear—I, once the captain, now was subaltern,And so must keep complaining like a fool!Go, take the curse of a lost soul, I say!You neither play your puppets to the end,Nor treat the real man,—for his realness' sakeThrust rudely in their place,—with such regardAs might console them for their altered rank.Me, the mere steady soldier, you deposeFor Luria, and here's all your pet deserves!Of what account, then, is your laughing-stock?One word for all: whatever Luria does,—If backed by his indignant troops he turn,Revenge himself, and Florence go to ground,—Or, for a signal everlasting shame,He pardon you, simply seek better friends,Side with the Pisans and Lucchese for change—And if I, pledged to ingrates past belief,Dare fight against a man such fools call false,Who, inasmuch as he was true, fights me,—Whichever way he win, he wins for worth,For every soldier, for all true and good!Sir, chronicling the rest, omit not this!(As they go, enterLuriaandHusain.)Hus.Saw'st thou?—For they are gone! The world lies bareBefore thee, to be tasted, felt and seenLike what it is, now Florence goes away!Thou livest now, with men art man again!Those Florentines were all to thee of old;But Braccio, but Domizia, gone is each,There lie beneath thee thine own multitudes!Saw'st thou?Lur.I saw.Hus.Then, hold thy course, my king!The years return. Let thy heart have its way:Ah, they would play with thee as with all else,Turn thee to use, and fashion thee anew,Find out God's fault in thee as in the rest?Oh watch, oh listen only to these fiendsOnce at their occupation! Ere we know,The free great heaven is shut, their stifling pallDrops till it frets the very tingling hair,So weighs it on our head,—and, for the earth,Our common earth is tethered up and down,Over and across—"here shalt thou move," they cry!Lur.Ay, Husain?Hus.So have they spoiled all beside!So stands a man girt round with Florentines,Priests, graybeards, Braccios, women, boys and spies,All in one tale, all singing the same song,How thou must house, and live at bed and board,Take pledge and give it, go their every way,Breathe to their measure, make thy blood beat timeWith theirs—- or, all is nothing—thou art lost—A savage, how shouldst thou perceive as they?Feel glad to stand 'neath God's close naked hand!Look up to it! Why, down they pull thy neck,Lest it crush thee, who feel'st it and wouldst kiss,Without their priests that needs must glove it first,Lest peradventure flesh offend thy lip.Love woman! Why, a very beast thou art!Thou must ...Lur.Peace, Husain!Hus.Ay, but, spoiling all,For all, else true things, substituting false,That they should dare spoil, of all instincts, thine!Should dare to take thee with thine instincts up,Thy battle-ardors, like a ball of fire,And class them and allow them place and playSo far, no farther—unabashed the while!Thou with the soul that never can take rest—Thou born to do, undo, and do again,And never to be still,—wouldst thou make war?Oh, that is commendable, just and right!"Come over," say they, "have the honor dueIn living out thy nature! Fight thy best:It is to be for Florence, not thyself!For thee, it were a horror and a plague;For us, when war is made for Florence, see,How all is changed: the fire that fed on earthNow towers to heaven!"—Lur.And what sealed up so longMy Husain's mouth?Hus.Oh friend, oh lord—for me,What am I?—I was silent at thy side,Who am a part of thee. It is thy hand,Thy foot that glows when in the heart fresh bloodBoils up, thou heart of me! Now, live again,Again love as thou likest, hate as free!Turn to no Braccios nor Domizias now,To ask, before thy very limbs dare move,If Florence' welfare be concerned thereby!Lur.So clear what Florence must expect of me?Hus.Both armies against Florence! Take revenge!Wide, deep—to live upon, in feeling now,—And, after live, in memory, year by year—And, with the dear conviction, die at last!She lies now at thy pleasure: pleasure have!Their vaunted intellect that gilds our sense,And blends with life, to show it better by,—How think'st thou?—I have turned that light on them!They called our thirst of war a transient thing;"The battle-element must pass awayFrom life," they said, "and leave a tranquil world."—Master, I took their light and turned it fullOn that dull turgid vein they said would burstAnd pass away; and as I looked on life,Still everywhere I tracked this, though it hidAnd shifted, lay so silent as it thought,Changed shape and hue yet ever was the same.Why, 't was all fighting, all their nobler life!All work was fighting, every harm—defeat,And every joy obtained—a victory!Be not their dupe!—Their dupe? That hour is past!Here stand'st thou in the glory and the calm:All is determined. Silence for me now![Husaingoes.Lur.Have I heard all?Dom.[Advancing from the background.]No, Luria, I remain!Not from the motives these have urged on thee,Ignoble, insufficient, incomplete,And pregnant each with sure seeds of decay,As failing of sustainment from thyself,—Neither from low revenge, nor selfishness,Nor savage lust of power, nor one, nor all,Shalt thou abolish Florence! I proclaimThe angel in thee, and reject the spritesWhich ineffectual crowd about his strength,And mingle with his work and claim a share!Inconsciously to the augustest endThou hast arisen: second not in rankSo much as time, to him who first ordainedThat Florence, thou art to destroy, should be.Yet him a star, too, guided, who broke firstThe pride of lonely power, the life apart,And made the eminences, each to each,Lean o'er the level world and let it lieSafe from the thunder henceforth 'neath their tops;So the few famous men of old combined,And let the multitude rise underneath,And reach them and unite—so Florence grew:Braccio speaks true, it was well worth the price.But when the sheltered many grew in prideAnd grudged the station of the elected ones,Who, greater than their kind, are truly greatOnly in voluntary servitude—Time was for thee to rise, and thou art here.Such plague possessed this Florence: who can tellThe mighty girth and greatness at the heartOf those so perfect pillars of the groveShe pulled down in her envy? Who as I,The light weak parasite born but to twineRound each of them and, measuring them, live?My light love keeps the matchless circle safe,My slender life proves what has passed away.I lived when they departed; lived to clingTo thee, the mighty stranger; thou wouldst riseAnd burst the thraldom, and avenge, I knew.I have done nothing; all was thy strong bole.But a bird's weight can break the infant treeWhich after holds an aery in its arms,And 't was my care that naught should warp thy spireFrom rising to the height; the roof is reachedO' the forest, break through, see extend the sky!Go on to Florence, Luria! 'T is man's cause!Fail thou, and thine own fall were least to dread:Thou keepest Florence in her evil way,Encouragest her sin so much the more—And while the ignoble past is justified,Thou all the surelier warp'st the future growth,The chiefs to come, the Lurias yet unborn,That, greater than thyself, are reached o'er theeWho giv'st the vantage-ground their foes require,As o'er my prostrate House thyself wast reached!Man calls thee, God requites thee! All is said,The mission of my House fulfilled at last:And the mere woman, speaking for herself,Reserves speech—it is now no woman's time.[Domiziagoes.Lur.Thus at the last must figure Luria, then!Doing the various work of all his friends,And answering every purpose save his own.No doubt, 't is well for them to wish; but him—After the exploit what were left? PerchanceA little pride upon the swarthy brow,At having brought successfully to bear'Gainst Florence' self her own especial arms,—Her craftiness, impelled by fiercer strengthFrom Moorish blood than feeds the northern wit.But after!—once the easy vengeance willed,Beautiful Florence at a word laid low—(Not in her domes and towers and palaces,Not even in a dream, that outrage!)—low,As shamed in her own eyes henceforth forever,Low, for the rival cities round to laugh,Conquered and pardoned by a hireling Moor!—For him, who did the irreparable wrong,What would be left, his life's illusion fled,—What hope or trust in the forlorn wide world?How strange that Florence should mistake me so!Whence grew this? What withdrew her faith from me?Some cause! These fretful-blooded children talkAgainst their mother,—they are wronged, they say—Notable wrongs her smile makes up again!So, taking fire at each supposed offence,They may speak rashly, suffer for their speech:But what could it have been in word or deedThus injured me? Some one word spoken moreOut of my heart, and all had changed perhaps.My fault, it must have been,—for, what gain they?Why risk the danger? See, what I could do!And my fault, wherefore visit upon them,My Florentines? The notable revengeI meditated! To stay passively.Attend their summons, be as they dispose!Why, if my very soldiers keep the rank,And if my chieftains acquiesce, what then?I ruin Florence, teach her friends mistrust,Confirm her enemies in harsh belief,And when she finds one day, as find she must,The strange mistake, and how my heart was hers,Shall it console me, that my FlorentinesWalk with a sadder step, in graver guise,Who took me with such frankness, praised me so,At the glad outset? Had they loved me less,They had less feared what seemed a change in me.And after all, who did the harm? Not they!How could they interpose with those old foolsI' the council? Suffer for those old fools' sake—They, who made pictures of me, sang the songsAbout my battles? Ah, we Moors get blindOut of our proper world, where we can see!The sun that guides is closer to us! There—There, my own orb! He sinks from out the sky!Why, there! a whole day has he blessed the land,My land, our Florence all about the hills,The fields and gardens, vineyards, olive-grounds,All have been blest—and yet we Florentines,With souls intent upon our battle here,Found that he rose too soon, or set too late,Gave us no vantage, or gave Pisa much—Therefore we wronged him! Does he turn in ireTo burn the earth that cannot understand?Or drop out quietly, and leave the sky,His task once ended? Night wipes blame away.Another morning from my East shall springAnd find all eyes at leisure, all disposedTo watch and understand its work, no doubt.So, praise the new sun, the successor praise,Praise the new Luria and forget the old![Taking a phial from his breast.—Strange! This is all I brought from my own landTo help me: Europe would supply the rest,All needs beside, all other helps save one!I thought of adverse fortune, battle lost,The natural upbraiding of the loser,And then this quiet remedy to seekAt end of the disastrous day.[He drinks.'T is sought!This was my happy triumph-morning: FlorenceIs saved: I drink this, and ere night,—die! Strange!

EnterPuccioandJacopo.

Puc.What Luria will do? Ah, 'tis yours, fair sir,Your and your subtle-witted master's part,To tell me that; I tell you what he can.

Puc.What Luria will do? Ah, 'tis yours, fair sir,

Your and your subtle-witted master's part,

To tell me that; I tell you what he can.

Jac.Friend, you mistake my station: I observeThe game, watch how my betters play, no more.

Jac.Friend, you mistake my station: I observe

The game, watch how my betters play, no more.

Puc.But mankind are not pieces—there's your fault!You cannot push them, and, the first move made,Lean back and study what the next shall be,In confidence that, when 'tis fixed upon,You find just where you left them, blacks and whites:Men go on moving when your hand's away.You build, I notice, firm on Luria's faithThis whole time,—firmlier than I choose to build,Who never doubted it—of old, that is—With Luria in his ordinary mind.But now, oppression makes the wise man mad:How do I know he will not turn and standAnd hold his own against you, as he may?Suppose he but withdraw to Pisa—well,—Then, even if all happen to your wish,Which is a chance ...

Puc.But mankind are not pieces—there's your fault!

You cannot push them, and, the first move made,

Lean back and study what the next shall be,

In confidence that, when 'tis fixed upon,

You find just where you left them, blacks and whites:

Men go on moving when your hand's away.

You build, I notice, firm on Luria's faith

This whole time,—firmlier than I choose to build,

Who never doubted it—of old, that is—

With Luria in his ordinary mind.

But now, oppression makes the wise man mad:

How do I know he will not turn and stand

And hold his own against you, as he may?

Suppose he but withdraw to Pisa—well,—

Then, even if all happen to your wish,

Which is a chance ...

Jac.Nay—'twas an oversight,Not waiting till the proper warrant came:You could not take what was not ours to give.But when at night the sentence really comes,Our city authorizes past disputeLuria's removal and transfers the charge,You will perceive your duty and accept?

Jac.Nay—'twas an oversight,

Not waiting till the proper warrant came:

You could not take what was not ours to give.

But when at night the sentence really comes,

Our city authorizes past dispute

Luria's removal and transfers the charge,

You will perceive your duty and accept?

Puc.Accept what? muster-rolls of soldiers' names?An army upon paper? I want men,The hearts as well as hands—and where's a heartBut beats with Luria, in the multitudeI come from walking through by Luria's side?You gave them Luria, set him thus to grow,Head-like, upon their trunk; one heart feeds both,They feel him there, live twice, and well know why.—For they do know, if you are ignorant,Who kept his own place and respected theirs,Managed their sweat, yet never spared his blood.All was your act: another might have served—There's peradventure no such dearth of heads—But you chose Luria: so, they grew one flesh,And now, for nothing they can understand,Luria removed, off is to roll the head;The body's mine—much I shall do with it!

Puc.Accept what? muster-rolls of soldiers' names?

An army upon paper? I want men,

The hearts as well as hands—and where's a heart

But beats with Luria, in the multitude

I come from walking through by Luria's side?

You gave them Luria, set him thus to grow,

Head-like, upon their trunk; one heart feeds both,

They feel him there, live twice, and well know why.

—For they do know, if you are ignorant,

Who kept his own place and respected theirs,

Managed their sweat, yet never spared his blood.

All was your act: another might have served—

There's peradventure no such dearth of heads—

But you chose Luria: so, they grew one flesh,

And now, for nothing they can understand,

Luria removed, off is to roll the head;

The body's mine—much I shall do with it!

Jac.That's at the worst.

Puc.No—at the best, it is!Best, do you hear? I saw them by his side.Only we two with Luria in the campAre left that keep the secret? You think that?Hear what I know: from rear to van, no heartBut felt the quiet patient hero thereWas wronged, nor in the moveless ranks an eyeBut glancing told its fellow the whole storyOf that convicted silent knot of spiesWho passed through them to Florence; they might pass—No breast but gladlier beat when free of such!Our troops will catch up Luria, close him round,Bear him to Florence as their natural lord,Partake his fortune, live or die with him.

Puc.No—at the best, it is!

Best, do you hear? I saw them by his side.

Only we two with Luria in the camp

Are left that keep the secret? You think that?

Hear what I know: from rear to van, no heart

But felt the quiet patient hero there

Was wronged, nor in the moveless ranks an eye

But glancing told its fellow the whole story

Of that convicted silent knot of spies

Who passed through them to Florence; they might pass—

No breast but gladlier beat when free of such!

Our troops will catch up Luria, close him round,

Bear him to Florence as their natural lord,

Partake his fortune, live or die with him.

Jac.And by mistake catch up along with himPuccio, no doubt, compelled in self despiteTo still continue second in command!

Jac.And by mistake catch up along with him

Puccio, no doubt, compelled in self despite

To still continue second in command!

Puc.No, sir, no second nor so fortunate!Your tricks succeed with me too well for that!I am as you have made me, live and dieTo serve your end—a mere trained fighting-hack,With words, you laugh at while they leave your mouth,For my life's rule and ordinance of God!I have to do my duty, keep my faith,And earn my praise, and guard against my blame,As I was trained. I shall accept your charge,And fight against one better than myself,Spite of my heart's conviction of his worth—That, you may count on!—just as hithertoI have gone on, persuaded I was wronged,Slighted, insulted, terms we learn by rote,—All because Luria superseded me—Because the better nature, fresh-inspired,Mounted above me to its proper place!What mattered all the kindly graciousness,The cordial brother's-bearing? This was clear—I, once the captain, now was subaltern,And so must keep complaining like a fool!Go, take the curse of a lost soul, I say!You neither play your puppets to the end,Nor treat the real man,—for his realness' sakeThrust rudely in their place,—with such regardAs might console them for their altered rank.Me, the mere steady soldier, you deposeFor Luria, and here's all your pet deserves!Of what account, then, is your laughing-stock?One word for all: whatever Luria does,—If backed by his indignant troops he turn,Revenge himself, and Florence go to ground,—Or, for a signal everlasting shame,He pardon you, simply seek better friends,Side with the Pisans and Lucchese for change—And if I, pledged to ingrates past belief,Dare fight against a man such fools call false,Who, inasmuch as he was true, fights me,—Whichever way he win, he wins for worth,For every soldier, for all true and good!Sir, chronicling the rest, omit not this!

Puc.No, sir, no second nor so fortunate!

Your tricks succeed with me too well for that!

I am as you have made me, live and die

To serve your end—a mere trained fighting-hack,

With words, you laugh at while they leave your mouth,

For my life's rule and ordinance of God!

I have to do my duty, keep my faith,

And earn my praise, and guard against my blame,

As I was trained. I shall accept your charge,

And fight against one better than myself,

Spite of my heart's conviction of his worth—

That, you may count on!—just as hitherto

I have gone on, persuaded I was wronged,

Slighted, insulted, terms we learn by rote,—

All because Luria superseded me—

Because the better nature, fresh-inspired,

Mounted above me to its proper place!

What mattered all the kindly graciousness,

The cordial brother's-bearing? This was clear—

I, once the captain, now was subaltern,

And so must keep complaining like a fool!

Go, take the curse of a lost soul, I say!

You neither play your puppets to the end,

Nor treat the real man,—for his realness' sake

Thrust rudely in their place,—with such regard

As might console them for their altered rank.

Me, the mere steady soldier, you depose

For Luria, and here's all your pet deserves!

Of what account, then, is your laughing-stock?

One word for all: whatever Luria does,

—If backed by his indignant troops he turn,

Revenge himself, and Florence go to ground,—

Or, for a signal everlasting shame,

He pardon you, simply seek better friends,

Side with the Pisans and Lucchese for change

—And if I, pledged to ingrates past belief,

Dare fight against a man such fools call false,

Who, inasmuch as he was true, fights me,—

Whichever way he win, he wins for worth,

For every soldier, for all true and good!

Sir, chronicling the rest, omit not this!

(As they go, enterLuriaandHusain.)

Hus.Saw'st thou?—For they are gone! The world lies bareBefore thee, to be tasted, felt and seenLike what it is, now Florence goes away!Thou livest now, with men art man again!Those Florentines were all to thee of old;But Braccio, but Domizia, gone is each,There lie beneath thee thine own multitudes!Saw'st thou?

Hus.Saw'st thou?—For they are gone! The world lies bare

Before thee, to be tasted, felt and seen

Like what it is, now Florence goes away!

Thou livest now, with men art man again!

Those Florentines were all to thee of old;

But Braccio, but Domizia, gone is each,

There lie beneath thee thine own multitudes!

Saw'st thou?

Lur.I saw.

Hus.Then, hold thy course, my king!The years return. Let thy heart have its way:Ah, they would play with thee as with all else,Turn thee to use, and fashion thee anew,Find out God's fault in thee as in the rest?Oh watch, oh listen only to these fiendsOnce at their occupation! Ere we know,The free great heaven is shut, their stifling pallDrops till it frets the very tingling hair,So weighs it on our head,—and, for the earth,Our common earth is tethered up and down,Over and across—"here shalt thou move," they cry!

Hus.Then, hold thy course, my king!

The years return. Let thy heart have its way:

Ah, they would play with thee as with all else,

Turn thee to use, and fashion thee anew,

Find out God's fault in thee as in the rest?

Oh watch, oh listen only to these fiends

Once at their occupation! Ere we know,

The free great heaven is shut, their stifling pall

Drops till it frets the very tingling hair,

So weighs it on our head,—and, for the earth,

Our common earth is tethered up and down,

Over and across—"here shalt thou move," they cry!

Lur.Ay, Husain?

Hus.So have they spoiled all beside!So stands a man girt round with Florentines,Priests, graybeards, Braccios, women, boys and spies,All in one tale, all singing the same song,How thou must house, and live at bed and board,Take pledge and give it, go their every way,Breathe to their measure, make thy blood beat timeWith theirs—- or, all is nothing—thou art lost—A savage, how shouldst thou perceive as they?Feel glad to stand 'neath God's close naked hand!Look up to it! Why, down they pull thy neck,Lest it crush thee, who feel'st it and wouldst kiss,Without their priests that needs must glove it first,Lest peradventure flesh offend thy lip.Love woman! Why, a very beast thou art!Thou must ...

Hus.So have they spoiled all beside!

So stands a man girt round with Florentines,

Priests, graybeards, Braccios, women, boys and spies,

All in one tale, all singing the same song,

How thou must house, and live at bed and board,

Take pledge and give it, go their every way,

Breathe to their measure, make thy blood beat time

With theirs—- or, all is nothing—thou art lost—

A savage, how shouldst thou perceive as they?

Feel glad to stand 'neath God's close naked hand!

Look up to it! Why, down they pull thy neck,

Lest it crush thee, who feel'st it and wouldst kiss,

Without their priests that needs must glove it first,

Lest peradventure flesh offend thy lip.

Love woman! Why, a very beast thou art!

Thou must ...

Lur.Peace, Husain!

Hus.Ay, but, spoiling all,For all, else true things, substituting false,That they should dare spoil, of all instincts, thine!Should dare to take thee with thine instincts up,Thy battle-ardors, like a ball of fire,And class them and allow them place and playSo far, no farther—unabashed the while!Thou with the soul that never can take rest—Thou born to do, undo, and do again,And never to be still,—wouldst thou make war?Oh, that is commendable, just and right!"Come over," say they, "have the honor dueIn living out thy nature! Fight thy best:It is to be for Florence, not thyself!For thee, it were a horror and a plague;For us, when war is made for Florence, see,How all is changed: the fire that fed on earthNow towers to heaven!"—

Hus.Ay, but, spoiling all,

For all, else true things, substituting false,

That they should dare spoil, of all instincts, thine!

Should dare to take thee with thine instincts up,

Thy battle-ardors, like a ball of fire,

And class them and allow them place and play

So far, no farther—unabashed the while!

Thou with the soul that never can take rest—

Thou born to do, undo, and do again,

And never to be still,—wouldst thou make war?

Oh, that is commendable, just and right!

"Come over," say they, "have the honor due

In living out thy nature! Fight thy best:

It is to be for Florence, not thyself!

For thee, it were a horror and a plague;

For us, when war is made for Florence, see,

How all is changed: the fire that fed on earth

Now towers to heaven!"—

Lur.And what sealed up so longMy Husain's mouth?

Lur.And what sealed up so long

My Husain's mouth?

Hus.Oh friend, oh lord—for me,What am I?—I was silent at thy side,Who am a part of thee. It is thy hand,Thy foot that glows when in the heart fresh bloodBoils up, thou heart of me! Now, live again,Again love as thou likest, hate as free!Turn to no Braccios nor Domizias now,To ask, before thy very limbs dare move,If Florence' welfare be concerned thereby!

Hus.Oh friend, oh lord—for me,

What am I?—I was silent at thy side,

Who am a part of thee. It is thy hand,

Thy foot that glows when in the heart fresh blood

Boils up, thou heart of me! Now, live again,

Again love as thou likest, hate as free!

Turn to no Braccios nor Domizias now,

To ask, before thy very limbs dare move,

If Florence' welfare be concerned thereby!

Lur.So clear what Florence must expect of me?

Hus.Both armies against Florence! Take revenge!Wide, deep—to live upon, in feeling now,—And, after live, in memory, year by year—And, with the dear conviction, die at last!She lies now at thy pleasure: pleasure have!Their vaunted intellect that gilds our sense,And blends with life, to show it better by,—How think'st thou?—I have turned that light on them!They called our thirst of war a transient thing;"The battle-element must pass awayFrom life," they said, "and leave a tranquil world."—Master, I took their light and turned it fullOn that dull turgid vein they said would burstAnd pass away; and as I looked on life,Still everywhere I tracked this, though it hidAnd shifted, lay so silent as it thought,Changed shape and hue yet ever was the same.Why, 't was all fighting, all their nobler life!All work was fighting, every harm—defeat,And every joy obtained—a victory!Be not their dupe!—Their dupe? That hour is past!Here stand'st thou in the glory and the calm:All is determined. Silence for me now![Husaingoes.

Hus.Both armies against Florence! Take revenge!

Wide, deep—to live upon, in feeling now,—

And, after live, in memory, year by year—

And, with the dear conviction, die at last!

She lies now at thy pleasure: pleasure have!

Their vaunted intellect that gilds our sense,

And blends with life, to show it better by,

—How think'st thou?—I have turned that light on them!

They called our thirst of war a transient thing;

"The battle-element must pass away

From life," they said, "and leave a tranquil world."

—Master, I took their light and turned it full

On that dull turgid vein they said would burst

And pass away; and as I looked on life,

Still everywhere I tracked this, though it hid

And shifted, lay so silent as it thought,

Changed shape and hue yet ever was the same.

Why, 't was all fighting, all their nobler life!

All work was fighting, every harm—defeat,

And every joy obtained—a victory!

Be not their dupe!

—Their dupe? That hour is past!

Here stand'st thou in the glory and the calm:

All is determined. Silence for me now![Husaingoes.

Lur.Have I heard all?

Dom.[Advancing from the background.]No, Luria, I remain!Not from the motives these have urged on thee,Ignoble, insufficient, incomplete,And pregnant each with sure seeds of decay,As failing of sustainment from thyself,—Neither from low revenge, nor selfishness,Nor savage lust of power, nor one, nor all,Shalt thou abolish Florence! I proclaimThe angel in thee, and reject the spritesWhich ineffectual crowd about his strength,And mingle with his work and claim a share!Inconsciously to the augustest endThou hast arisen: second not in rankSo much as time, to him who first ordainedThat Florence, thou art to destroy, should be.Yet him a star, too, guided, who broke firstThe pride of lonely power, the life apart,And made the eminences, each to each,Lean o'er the level world and let it lieSafe from the thunder henceforth 'neath their tops;So the few famous men of old combined,And let the multitude rise underneath,And reach them and unite—so Florence grew:Braccio speaks true, it was well worth the price.But when the sheltered many grew in prideAnd grudged the station of the elected ones,Who, greater than their kind, are truly greatOnly in voluntary servitude—Time was for thee to rise, and thou art here.Such plague possessed this Florence: who can tellThe mighty girth and greatness at the heartOf those so perfect pillars of the groveShe pulled down in her envy? Who as I,The light weak parasite born but to twineRound each of them and, measuring them, live?My light love keeps the matchless circle safe,My slender life proves what has passed away.I lived when they departed; lived to clingTo thee, the mighty stranger; thou wouldst riseAnd burst the thraldom, and avenge, I knew.I have done nothing; all was thy strong bole.But a bird's weight can break the infant treeWhich after holds an aery in its arms,And 't was my care that naught should warp thy spireFrom rising to the height; the roof is reachedO' the forest, break through, see extend the sky!Go on to Florence, Luria! 'T is man's cause!Fail thou, and thine own fall were least to dread:Thou keepest Florence in her evil way,Encouragest her sin so much the more—And while the ignoble past is justified,Thou all the surelier warp'st the future growth,The chiefs to come, the Lurias yet unborn,That, greater than thyself, are reached o'er theeWho giv'st the vantage-ground their foes require,As o'er my prostrate House thyself wast reached!Man calls thee, God requites thee! All is said,The mission of my House fulfilled at last:And the mere woman, speaking for herself,Reserves speech—it is now no woman's time.[Domiziagoes.

Dom.[Advancing from the background.]No, Luria, I remain!

Not from the motives these have urged on thee,

Ignoble, insufficient, incomplete,

And pregnant each with sure seeds of decay,

As failing of sustainment from thyself,

—Neither from low revenge, nor selfishness,

Nor savage lust of power, nor one, nor all,

Shalt thou abolish Florence! I proclaim

The angel in thee, and reject the sprites

Which ineffectual crowd about his strength,

And mingle with his work and claim a share!

Inconsciously to the augustest end

Thou hast arisen: second not in rank

So much as time, to him who first ordained

That Florence, thou art to destroy, should be.

Yet him a star, too, guided, who broke first

The pride of lonely power, the life apart,

And made the eminences, each to each,

Lean o'er the level world and let it lie

Safe from the thunder henceforth 'neath their tops;

So the few famous men of old combined,

And let the multitude rise underneath,

And reach them and unite—so Florence grew:

Braccio speaks true, it was well worth the price.

But when the sheltered many grew in pride

And grudged the station of the elected ones,

Who, greater than their kind, are truly great

Only in voluntary servitude—

Time was for thee to rise, and thou art here.

Such plague possessed this Florence: who can tell

The mighty girth and greatness at the heart

Of those so perfect pillars of the grove

She pulled down in her envy? Who as I,

The light weak parasite born but to twine

Round each of them and, measuring them, live?

My light love keeps the matchless circle safe,

My slender life proves what has passed away.

I lived when they departed; lived to cling

To thee, the mighty stranger; thou wouldst rise

And burst the thraldom, and avenge, I knew.

I have done nothing; all was thy strong bole.

But a bird's weight can break the infant tree

Which after holds an aery in its arms,

And 't was my care that naught should warp thy spire

From rising to the height; the roof is reached

O' the forest, break through, see extend the sky!

Go on to Florence, Luria! 'T is man's cause!

Fail thou, and thine own fall were least to dread:

Thou keepest Florence in her evil way,

Encouragest her sin so much the more—

And while the ignoble past is justified,

Thou all the surelier warp'st the future growth,

The chiefs to come, the Lurias yet unborn,

That, greater than thyself, are reached o'er thee

Who giv'st the vantage-ground their foes require,

As o'er my prostrate House thyself wast reached!

Man calls thee, God requites thee! All is said,

The mission of my House fulfilled at last:

And the mere woman, speaking for herself,

Reserves speech—it is now no woman's time.[Domiziagoes.

Lur.Thus at the last must figure Luria, then!Doing the various work of all his friends,And answering every purpose save his own.No doubt, 't is well for them to wish; but him—After the exploit what were left? PerchanceA little pride upon the swarthy brow,At having brought successfully to bear'Gainst Florence' self her own especial arms,—Her craftiness, impelled by fiercer strengthFrom Moorish blood than feeds the northern wit.But after!—once the easy vengeance willed,Beautiful Florence at a word laid low—(Not in her domes and towers and palaces,Not even in a dream, that outrage!)—low,As shamed in her own eyes henceforth forever,Low, for the rival cities round to laugh,Conquered and pardoned by a hireling Moor!—For him, who did the irreparable wrong,What would be left, his life's illusion fled,—What hope or trust in the forlorn wide world?How strange that Florence should mistake me so!Whence grew this? What withdrew her faith from me?Some cause! These fretful-blooded children talkAgainst their mother,—they are wronged, they say—Notable wrongs her smile makes up again!So, taking fire at each supposed offence,They may speak rashly, suffer for their speech:But what could it have been in word or deedThus injured me? Some one word spoken moreOut of my heart, and all had changed perhaps.My fault, it must have been,—for, what gain they?Why risk the danger? See, what I could do!And my fault, wherefore visit upon them,My Florentines? The notable revengeI meditated! To stay passively.Attend their summons, be as they dispose!Why, if my very soldiers keep the rank,And if my chieftains acquiesce, what then?I ruin Florence, teach her friends mistrust,Confirm her enemies in harsh belief,And when she finds one day, as find she must,The strange mistake, and how my heart was hers,Shall it console me, that my FlorentinesWalk with a sadder step, in graver guise,Who took me with such frankness, praised me so,At the glad outset? Had they loved me less,They had less feared what seemed a change in me.And after all, who did the harm? Not they!How could they interpose with those old foolsI' the council? Suffer for those old fools' sake—They, who made pictures of me, sang the songsAbout my battles? Ah, we Moors get blindOut of our proper world, where we can see!The sun that guides is closer to us! There—There, my own orb! He sinks from out the sky!Why, there! a whole day has he blessed the land,My land, our Florence all about the hills,The fields and gardens, vineyards, olive-grounds,All have been blest—and yet we Florentines,With souls intent upon our battle here,Found that he rose too soon, or set too late,Gave us no vantage, or gave Pisa much—Therefore we wronged him! Does he turn in ireTo burn the earth that cannot understand?Or drop out quietly, and leave the sky,His task once ended? Night wipes blame away.Another morning from my East shall springAnd find all eyes at leisure, all disposedTo watch and understand its work, no doubt.So, praise the new sun, the successor praise,Praise the new Luria and forget the old![Taking a phial from his breast.—Strange! This is all I brought from my own landTo help me: Europe would supply the rest,All needs beside, all other helps save one!I thought of adverse fortune, battle lost,The natural upbraiding of the loser,And then this quiet remedy to seekAt end of the disastrous day.[He drinks.'T is sought!This was my happy triumph-morning: FlorenceIs saved: I drink this, and ere night,—die! Strange!

Lur.Thus at the last must figure Luria, then!

Doing the various work of all his friends,

And answering every purpose save his own.

No doubt, 't is well for them to wish; but him—

After the exploit what were left? Perchance

A little pride upon the swarthy brow,

At having brought successfully to bear

'Gainst Florence' self her own especial arms,—

Her craftiness, impelled by fiercer strength

From Moorish blood than feeds the northern wit.

But after!—once the easy vengeance willed,

Beautiful Florence at a word laid low

—(Not in her domes and towers and palaces,

Not even in a dream, that outrage!)—low,

As shamed in her own eyes henceforth forever,

Low, for the rival cities round to laugh,

Conquered and pardoned by a hireling Moor!

—For him, who did the irreparable wrong,

What would be left, his life's illusion fled,—

What hope or trust in the forlorn wide world?

How strange that Florence should mistake me so!

Whence grew this? What withdrew her faith from me?

Some cause! These fretful-blooded children talk

Against their mother,—they are wronged, they say—

Notable wrongs her smile makes up again!

So, taking fire at each supposed offence,

They may speak rashly, suffer for their speech:

But what could it have been in word or deed

Thus injured me? Some one word spoken more

Out of my heart, and all had changed perhaps.

My fault, it must have been,—for, what gain they?

Why risk the danger? See, what I could do!

And my fault, wherefore visit upon them,

My Florentines? The notable revenge

I meditated! To stay passively.

Attend their summons, be as they dispose!

Why, if my very soldiers keep the rank,

And if my chieftains acquiesce, what then?

I ruin Florence, teach her friends mistrust,

Confirm her enemies in harsh belief,

And when she finds one day, as find she must,

The strange mistake, and how my heart was hers,

Shall it console me, that my Florentines

Walk with a sadder step, in graver guise,

Who took me with such frankness, praised me so,

At the glad outset? Had they loved me less,

They had less feared what seemed a change in me.

And after all, who did the harm? Not they!

How could they interpose with those old fools

I' the council? Suffer for those old fools' sake—

They, who made pictures of me, sang the songs

About my battles? Ah, we Moors get blind

Out of our proper world, where we can see!

The sun that guides is closer to us! There—

There, my own orb! He sinks from out the sky!

Why, there! a whole day has he blessed the land,

My land, our Florence all about the hills,

The fields and gardens, vineyards, olive-grounds,

All have been blest—and yet we Florentines,

With souls intent upon our battle here,

Found that he rose too soon, or set too late,

Gave us no vantage, or gave Pisa much—

Therefore we wronged him! Does he turn in ire

To burn the earth that cannot understand?

Or drop out quietly, and leave the sky,

His task once ended? Night wipes blame away.

Another morning from my East shall spring

And find all eyes at leisure, all disposed

To watch and understand its work, no doubt.

So, praise the new sun, the successor praise,

Praise the new Luria and forget the old!

[Taking a phial from his breast.

—Strange! This is all I brought from my own land

To help me: Europe would supply the rest,

All needs beside, all other helps save one!

I thought of adverse fortune, battle lost,

The natural upbraiding of the loser,

And then this quiet remedy to seek

At end of the disastrous day.[He drinks.

'T is sought!

This was my happy triumph-morning: Florence

Is saved: I drink this, and ere night,—die! Strange!

NIGHT

LuriaandPuccioLur.I thought to do this, not to talk this: well,Such were my projects for the city's good,To help her in attack or by defence.Time, here as elsewhere, soon or late may takeOur foresight by surprise through chance and change;But not a little we provide against—If you see clear on every point.Puc.Most clear.Lur.Then all is said—not much, if you count words,Yet to an understanding ear enough;And all that my brief stay permits, beside.Nor must you blame me, as I sought to teachMy elder in command, or threw a doubtUpon the very skill, it comforts meTo know I leave,—your steady soldiershipWhich never failed me: yet, because it seemedA stranger's eye might haply note defectThat skill, through use and custom, over-looks—I have gone into the old cares once more,As if I had to come and save againFlorence—that May—that morning! 'T is night now.Well—I broke off with?...Puc.Of the past campaignYou spoke—of measures to be kept in mindFor future use.Lur.True, so ... but, time—no time!As well end here: remember this, and me!Farewell now!Puc.Dare I speak?Lur.South o' the river—How is the second stream called ... no,—the third?Puc.Pesa.Lur.And a stone's-cast from the fording-place,To the east,—the little mount's name?Puc.Lupo.Lur.Ay!Ay—there the tower, and all that side is safe!With San Romano, west of Evola,San Miniato, Scala, Empoli,Five towers in all,—forget not!Puc.Fear not me!Lur.—Nor to memorialize the Council now,I' the easy hour, on those battalions' claim,Who forced a pass by Staggia on the hills,And kept the Sienese at check!Puc.One word—Sir, I must speak! That you submit yourselfTo Florence' bidding, howsoe'er it prove,And give up the command to me—is much,Too much, perhaps: but what you tell me now,Even will affect the other course you choose—Poor as it may be, perils even that!Refuge you seek at Pisa: yet these plansAll militate for Florence, all concludeYour formidable work to make her queenO' the country,—which her rivals rose againstWhen you began it,—which to interrupt,Pisa would buy you off at any price!You cannot mean to sue for Pisa's help,With this made perfect and on record?Lur.I—At Pisa, and for refuge, do you say?Puc.Where are you going, then? You must decideOn leaving us, a silent fugitive,Alone, at night—you, stealing through our lines,Who were this morning's Luria,—you escapeTo painfully begin the world once more,With such a past, as it had never been!Where are you going?Lur.Not so far, my Puccio,But that I hope to hear, enjoy and praise(If you mind praise from your old captain yet)Each happy blow you strike for Florence!Puc.Ay,But ere you gain your shelter, what may come?For see—though nothing 's surely known as yet,Still—truth must out—I apprehend the worst.If mere suspicion stood for certaintyBefore, there 's nothing can arrest the stepOf Florence toward your ruin, once on foot.Forgive her fifty times, it matters not!And having disbelieved your innocence,How can she trust your magnanimity?You may do harm to her—why then, you will!And Florence is sagacious in pursuit.Have you a friend to count on?Lur.One sure friend.Puc.Potent?Lur.All-potent.Puc.And he is apprised?Lur.He waits me.Puc.So!—Then I, put in your place,Making my profit of all done by you,Calling your labors mine, reaping their fruit,To this, the State's gift, now add yours beside—That I may take as my peculiar storeThese your instructions to work Florence good.And if, by putting some few happilyIn practice, I should both advantage herAnd draw down honor on myself,—what then?Lur.Do it, my Puccio! I shall know and praise!Puc.Though so, men say, "mark what we gain by change—A Puccio for a Luria!"Lur.Even so!Puc.Then, not for fifty hundred FlorencesWould I accept one office save my own,Fill any other than my rightful postHere at your feet, my captain and my lord!That such a cloud should break, such trouble be,Ere a man settle, soul and body, downInto his true place and take rest forever!Here were my wise eyes fixed on your right hand,And so the bad thoughts came and the worse words,And all went wrong and painfully enough,—No wonder,—till, the right spot stumbled on,All the jar stops, and there is peace at once!I am yours now,—a tool your right hand wields!God's love, that I should live, the man I am,On orders, warrants, patents and the like,As if there were no glowing eye i' the worldTo glance straight inspiration to my brain,No glorious heart to give mine twice the beats!For, see—my doubt, where is it?—fear? 't is flown!And Florence and her anger are a taleTo scare a child! Why, half-a-dozen wordsWill tell her, spoken as I now can speak,Her error, my past folly—and all 's right,And you are Luria, our great chief again!Or at the worst—which worst were best of all—To exile or to death I follow you!Lur.Thanks, Puccio! Let me use the privilegeYou grant me: if I still command you,—stay!Remain here, my vicegerent, it shall be,And not successor: let me, as of old,Still serve the State, my spirit prompting yours—Still triumph, one for both. There! Leave me now!You cannot disobey my first command?Remember what I spoke of Jacopo,And what you promised to concert with him!Send him to speak with me—nay, no farewell!You shall be by me when the sentence comes.[Pucciogoes.So, there 's one Florentine returns again!Out of the genial morning company.One face is left to take into the night.(EnterJacopo.)Jac.I wait for your command, sir.Lur.What, so soon?I thank your ready presence and fair word.I used to notice you in early daysAs of the other species, so to speak,Those watchers of the lives of us who act—That weigh our motives, scrutinize our thoughts.So, I propound this to your facultyAs you would tell me, were a town to take... That is, of old. I am departing henceUnder these imputations; that is naught—I leave no friend on whom they may rebound,Hardly a name behind me in the land,Being a stranger: all the more behoovesThat I regard how altered were the caseWith natives of the country, FlorentinesOn whom the like mischance should fall: the rootsO' the tree survive the ruin of the trunk—No root of mine will throb, you understand.But I had predecessors, Florentines,Accused as I am now, and punished so—The Traversari: you know more than IHow stigmatized they are and lost in shame.Now Puccio, who succeeds me in command,Both served them and succeeded, in due time;He knows the way, holds proper documents,And has the power to lay the simple truthBefore an active spirit, as I count yours:And also there 's Tiburzio, my new friend,Will, at a word, confirm such evidence,He being the great chivalric soul we know.I put it to your tact, sir—were 't not well,—A grace, though but for contrast's sake, no more,—If you who witness, and have borne a shareInvoluntarily in my mischance,Should, of your proper motion, set your skillTo indicate—that is, investigateThe right or wrong of what mischance befellThose famous citizens, your countrymen?Nay, you shall promise nothing: but reflect,And if your sense of justice prompt you—good!Jac.And if, the trial past, their fame stand clearTo all men's eyes, as yours, my lord, to mine—Their ghosts may sleep in quiet satisfied!For me, a straw thrown up into the air,My testimony goes for a straw's worth.I used to hold by the instructed brain,And move with Braccio as my master-wind;The heart leads surelier: I must move with you—As greatest now, who ever were the best.So, let the last and humblest of your servantsAccept your charge, as Braccio's heretofore,And tender homage by obeying you![Jacopogoes.Lur.Another!—Luria goes not poorly forth.If we could wait! The only fault 's with time;All men become good creatures: but so slow!(EnterDomizia.)Lur.Ah, you once more?Dom.Domizia, whom you knew,Performed her task, and died with it. 'T is I,Another woman, you have never known.Let the past sleep now!Lur.I have done with it.Dom.How inexhaustibly the spirit grows!One object, she seemed erewhile born to reachWith her whole energies and die content,—So like a wall at the world's edge it stood,With naught beyond to live for,—is that reached?—Already are new undreamed energiesOutgrowing under, and extending fartherTo a new object; there 's another world.See! I have told the purpose of my life;'T is gained: you are decided, well or ill—You march on Florence, or submit to her—My work is done with you, your brow declares.But—leave you?—More of you seems yet to reach:I stay for what I just begin to see.Lur.So that you turn not to the past!Dom.You traceNothing but ill in it—my selfish impulse,Which sought its end and disregarded yours?Lur.Speak not against your nature: best, each keepHis own—you, yours—most, now that I keep mine,—At least, fall by it, having too weakly stood.God's finger marks distinctions, all so fine,We would confound: the lesser has its use,Which, when it apes the greater, is foregone.I, born a Moor, lived half a Florentine;But, punished properly, can end, a Moor.Beside, there's something makes me understandYour nature: I have seen it.Dom.Aught like mine?Lur.In my own East ... if you would stoop and helpMy barbarous illustration! It sounds ill;Yet there's no wrong at bottom: rather, praise.Dom.Well?Lur.We have creatures there, which if you sawThe first time, you would doubtless marvel atFor their surpassing beauty, craft and strength.And though it were a lively moment's shockWhen you first found the purpose of forked tonguesThat seem innocuous in their lambent play,Yet, once made know such grace requires such guard,Your reason soon would acquiesce, I think,In wisdom which made all things for the best—So, take them, good with ill, contentedly,The prominent beauty with the latent sting,I am glad to have seen you wondrous Florentines:Yet ...Dom.I am here to listen.Lur.My own East!How nearer God we were! He glows aboveWith scarce an intervention, presses closeAnd palpitatingly, his soul o'er ours:We feel him, nor by painful reason know!The everlasting minute of creationIs felt there; now it is, as it was then;All changes at his instantaneous will,Not by the operation of a lawWhose maker is elsewhere at other work.His hand is still engaged upon his world—Man's praise can forward it, man's prayer suspend,For is not God all-mighty? To recastThe world, erase old things and make them new,What costs it Him? So, man breathes nobly there.And inasmuch as feeling, the East's gift,Is quick and transient—comes, and lo, is gone—While Northern thought is slow and durable,Surely a mission was reserved for me,Who, born with a perception of the powerAnd use of the North's thought for us of the East,Should have remained, turned knowledge to account,Giving thought's character and permanenceTo the too transitory feeling there—Writing God's message plain in mortal words.Instead of which, I leave my fated fieldFor this where such a task is needed least,Where all are born consummate in the artI just perceive a chance of making mine,—And then, deserting thus my early post,I wonder that the men I come amongMistake me! There, how all had understood,Still brought fresh stuff for me to stamp and keep,Fresh instinct to translate them into law!Me, who ...Dom.Who here the greater task achieve,More needful even: who have brought fresh stuffFor us to mould, interpret and prove right,—New feeling fresh from God, which, could we knowO' the instant, where had been our need of it?—Whose life re-teaches us what life should be,What faith is, loyalty and simpleness,All, once revealed but taught us so long sinceThat, having mere tradition of the fact,—Truth copied falteringly from copies faint,The early traits all dropped away,—we saidOn sight of faith like yours, "So looks not faithWe understand, described and praised before."But still, the feat was dared; and though at firstIt suffered from our haste, yet trace by traceOld memories reappear, old truth returns,Our slow thought does its work, and all's reknown.Oh noble Luria! What you have decreedI see not, but no animal revenge.No brute-like punishment of bad by worse—It cannot be, the gross and vulgar wayTraced for me by convention and mistake,Has gained that calm approving eye and brow!Spare Florence, after all! Let Luria trustTo his own soul, he whom I trust with mine!Lur.In time!Dom.How, Luria?Lur.It is midnight now,And they arrive from Florence with my fate.Dom.I hear no step.Lur.I feel one, as you say.(EnterHusain.)Hus.The man returned from Florence!Lur.As I knew.Hus.He seeks thee.Lur.And I only wait for him.Aught else?Hus.A movement of the Lucchese troopsSouthward—Lur.Toward Florence? Have out instantly ...Ah, old use clings! Puccio must care henceforth.In—quick—'tis nearly midnight! Bid him come!(EnterTiburzio, Braccio,andPuccio.)Lur.Tiburzio?—not at Pisa?Tib.I returnFrom Florence: I serve Pisa, and must thinkBy such procedure I have served her best.A people is but the attempt of manyTo rise to the completer life of one;And those who live as models for the massAre singly of more value than they all.Such man are you, and such a time is this,That your sole fate concerns a nation moreThan much apparent welfare: that to proveYour rectitude, and duly crown the same,Imports us far beyond to-day's event,A battle's loss or gain: man's mass remains,—Keep but God's model safe, new men will riseTo take its mould, and other days to proveHow great a good was Luria's glory. True—I might go try my fortune as you urged,And, joining Lucca, helped by your disgrace,Repair our harm—so were to-day's work done;But where leave Luria for our sons to see?No, I look farther. I have testified(Declaring my submission to your arms)Her full success to Florence, making clearYour probity, as none else could: I spoke,And out it shone!Lur.Ah—until Braccio spoke!Brac.Till Braccio told in just a word the whole—His lapse to error, his return to knowledge:Which told ... Nay, Luria, I should droop the head,I whom shame rests with! Yet I dare look up,Sure of your pardon how I sue for it,Knowing you wholly. Let the midnight end!'Tis morn approaches! Still you answer not?Sunshine succeeds the shadow passed away;Our faces, which phantasmal grew and false,Are all that felt it: they change round you, turnTruly themselves now in its vanishing.Speak, Luria! Here begins your true career:Look up, advance! All now is possible,Fact's grandeur, no false dreaming! Dare and do!And every prophecy shall be fulfilledSave one—(nay, now your word must come at last)—That you would punish Florence!Hus.[Pointing toLuria'sdead body.]That is done.

LuriaandPuccio

Lur.I thought to do this, not to talk this: well,Such were my projects for the city's good,To help her in attack or by defence.Time, here as elsewhere, soon or late may takeOur foresight by surprise through chance and change;But not a little we provide against—If you see clear on every point.

Lur.I thought to do this, not to talk this: well,

Such were my projects for the city's good,

To help her in attack or by defence.

Time, here as elsewhere, soon or late may take

Our foresight by surprise through chance and change;

But not a little we provide against

—If you see clear on every point.

Puc.Most clear.

Lur.Then all is said—not much, if you count words,Yet to an understanding ear enough;And all that my brief stay permits, beside.Nor must you blame me, as I sought to teachMy elder in command, or threw a doubtUpon the very skill, it comforts meTo know I leave,—your steady soldiershipWhich never failed me: yet, because it seemedA stranger's eye might haply note defectThat skill, through use and custom, over-looks—I have gone into the old cares once more,As if I had to come and save againFlorence—that May—that morning! 'T is night now.Well—I broke off with?...

Lur.Then all is said—not much, if you count words,

Yet to an understanding ear enough;

And all that my brief stay permits, beside.

Nor must you blame me, as I sought to teach

My elder in command, or threw a doubt

Upon the very skill, it comforts me

To know I leave,—your steady soldiership

Which never failed me: yet, because it seemed

A stranger's eye might haply note defect

That skill, through use and custom, over-looks—

I have gone into the old cares once more,

As if I had to come and save again

Florence—that May—that morning! 'T is night now.

Well—I broke off with?...

Puc.Of the past campaignYou spoke—of measures to be kept in mindFor future use.

Puc.Of the past campaign

You spoke—of measures to be kept in mind

For future use.

Lur.True, so ... but, time—no time!As well end here: remember this, and me!Farewell now!

Lur.True, so ... but, time—no time!

As well end here: remember this, and me!

Farewell now!

Puc.Dare I speak?

Lur.South o' the river—How is the second stream called ... no,—the third?

Lur.South o' the river—

How is the second stream called ... no,—the third?

Puc.Pesa.

Lur.And a stone's-cast from the fording-place,To the east,—the little mount's name?

Lur.And a stone's-cast from the fording-place,

To the east,—the little mount's name?

Puc.Lupo.

Lur.Ay!Ay—there the tower, and all that side is safe!With San Romano, west of Evola,San Miniato, Scala, Empoli,Five towers in all,—forget not!

Lur.Ay!

Ay—there the tower, and all that side is safe!

With San Romano, west of Evola,

San Miniato, Scala, Empoli,

Five towers in all,—forget not!

Puc.Fear not me!

Lur.—Nor to memorialize the Council now,I' the easy hour, on those battalions' claim,Who forced a pass by Staggia on the hills,And kept the Sienese at check!

Lur.—Nor to memorialize the Council now,

I' the easy hour, on those battalions' claim,

Who forced a pass by Staggia on the hills,

And kept the Sienese at check!

Puc.One word—Sir, I must speak! That you submit yourselfTo Florence' bidding, howsoe'er it prove,And give up the command to me—is much,Too much, perhaps: but what you tell me now,Even will affect the other course you choose—Poor as it may be, perils even that!Refuge you seek at Pisa: yet these plansAll militate for Florence, all concludeYour formidable work to make her queenO' the country,—which her rivals rose againstWhen you began it,—which to interrupt,Pisa would buy you off at any price!You cannot mean to sue for Pisa's help,With this made perfect and on record?

Puc.One word—

Sir, I must speak! That you submit yourself

To Florence' bidding, howsoe'er it prove,

And give up the command to me—is much,

Too much, perhaps: but what you tell me now,

Even will affect the other course you choose—

Poor as it may be, perils even that!

Refuge you seek at Pisa: yet these plans

All militate for Florence, all conclude

Your formidable work to make her queen

O' the country,—which her rivals rose against

When you began it,—which to interrupt,

Pisa would buy you off at any price!

You cannot mean to sue for Pisa's help,

With this made perfect and on record?

Lur.I—At Pisa, and for refuge, do you say?

Lur.I—

At Pisa, and for refuge, do you say?

Puc.Where are you going, then? You must decideOn leaving us, a silent fugitive,Alone, at night—you, stealing through our lines,Who were this morning's Luria,—you escapeTo painfully begin the world once more,With such a past, as it had never been!Where are you going?

Puc.Where are you going, then? You must decide

On leaving us, a silent fugitive,

Alone, at night—you, stealing through our lines,

Who were this morning's Luria,—you escape

To painfully begin the world once more,

With such a past, as it had never been!

Where are you going?

Lur.Not so far, my Puccio,But that I hope to hear, enjoy and praise(If you mind praise from your old captain yet)Each happy blow you strike for Florence!

Lur.Not so far, my Puccio,

But that I hope to hear, enjoy and praise

(If you mind praise from your old captain yet)

Each happy blow you strike for Florence!

Puc.Ay,But ere you gain your shelter, what may come?For see—though nothing 's surely known as yet,Still—truth must out—I apprehend the worst.If mere suspicion stood for certaintyBefore, there 's nothing can arrest the stepOf Florence toward your ruin, once on foot.Forgive her fifty times, it matters not!And having disbelieved your innocence,How can she trust your magnanimity?You may do harm to her—why then, you will!And Florence is sagacious in pursuit.Have you a friend to count on?

Puc.Ay,

But ere you gain your shelter, what may come?

For see—though nothing 's surely known as yet,

Still—truth must out—I apprehend the worst.

If mere suspicion stood for certainty

Before, there 's nothing can arrest the step

Of Florence toward your ruin, once on foot.

Forgive her fifty times, it matters not!

And having disbelieved your innocence,

How can she trust your magnanimity?

You may do harm to her—why then, you will!

And Florence is sagacious in pursuit.

Have you a friend to count on?

Lur.One sure friend.

Puc.Potent?

Lur.All-potent.

Puc.And he is apprised?

Lur.He waits me.

Puc.So!—Then I, put in your place,Making my profit of all done by you,Calling your labors mine, reaping their fruit,To this, the State's gift, now add yours beside—That I may take as my peculiar storeThese your instructions to work Florence good.And if, by putting some few happilyIn practice, I should both advantage herAnd draw down honor on myself,—what then?

Puc.So!—Then I, put in your place,

Making my profit of all done by you,

Calling your labors mine, reaping their fruit,

To this, the State's gift, now add yours beside—

That I may take as my peculiar store

These your instructions to work Florence good.

And if, by putting some few happily

In practice, I should both advantage her

And draw down honor on myself,—what then?

Lur.Do it, my Puccio! I shall know and praise!

Puc.Though so, men say, "mark what we gain by change—A Puccio for a Luria!"

Puc.Though so, men say, "mark what we gain by change

—A Puccio for a Luria!"

Lur.Even so!

Puc.Then, not for fifty hundred FlorencesWould I accept one office save my own,Fill any other than my rightful postHere at your feet, my captain and my lord!That such a cloud should break, such trouble be,Ere a man settle, soul and body, downInto his true place and take rest forever!Here were my wise eyes fixed on your right hand,And so the bad thoughts came and the worse words,And all went wrong and painfully enough,—No wonder,—till, the right spot stumbled on,All the jar stops, and there is peace at once!I am yours now,—a tool your right hand wields!God's love, that I should live, the man I am,On orders, warrants, patents and the like,As if there were no glowing eye i' the worldTo glance straight inspiration to my brain,No glorious heart to give mine twice the beats!For, see—my doubt, where is it?—fear? 't is flown!And Florence and her anger are a taleTo scare a child! Why, half-a-dozen wordsWill tell her, spoken as I now can speak,Her error, my past folly—and all 's right,And you are Luria, our great chief again!Or at the worst—which worst were best of all—To exile or to death I follow you!

Puc.Then, not for fifty hundred Florences

Would I accept one office save my own,

Fill any other than my rightful post

Here at your feet, my captain and my lord!

That such a cloud should break, such trouble be,

Ere a man settle, soul and body, down

Into his true place and take rest forever!

Here were my wise eyes fixed on your right hand,

And so the bad thoughts came and the worse words,

And all went wrong and painfully enough,—

No wonder,—till, the right spot stumbled on,

All the jar stops, and there is peace at once!

I am yours now,—a tool your right hand wields!

God's love, that I should live, the man I am,

On orders, warrants, patents and the like,

As if there were no glowing eye i' the world

To glance straight inspiration to my brain,

No glorious heart to give mine twice the beats!

For, see—my doubt, where is it?—fear? 't is flown!

And Florence and her anger are a tale

To scare a child! Why, half-a-dozen words

Will tell her, spoken as I now can speak,

Her error, my past folly—and all 's right,

And you are Luria, our great chief again!

Or at the worst—which worst were best of all—

To exile or to death I follow you!

Lur.Thanks, Puccio! Let me use the privilegeYou grant me: if I still command you,—stay!Remain here, my vicegerent, it shall be,And not successor: let me, as of old,Still serve the State, my spirit prompting yours—Still triumph, one for both. There! Leave me now!You cannot disobey my first command?Remember what I spoke of Jacopo,And what you promised to concert with him!Send him to speak with me—nay, no farewell!You shall be by me when the sentence comes.[Pucciogoes.So, there 's one Florentine returns again!Out of the genial morning company.One face is left to take into the night.

Lur.Thanks, Puccio! Let me use the privilege

You grant me: if I still command you,—stay!

Remain here, my vicegerent, it shall be,

And not successor: let me, as of old,

Still serve the State, my spirit prompting yours—

Still triumph, one for both. There! Leave me now!

You cannot disobey my first command?

Remember what I spoke of Jacopo,

And what you promised to concert with him!

Send him to speak with me—nay, no farewell!

You shall be by me when the sentence comes.

[Pucciogoes.

So, there 's one Florentine returns again!

Out of the genial morning company.

One face is left to take into the night.

(EnterJacopo.)

Jac.I wait for your command, sir.

Lur.What, so soon?I thank your ready presence and fair word.I used to notice you in early daysAs of the other species, so to speak,Those watchers of the lives of us who act—That weigh our motives, scrutinize our thoughts.So, I propound this to your facultyAs you would tell me, were a town to take... That is, of old. I am departing henceUnder these imputations; that is naught—I leave no friend on whom they may rebound,Hardly a name behind me in the land,Being a stranger: all the more behoovesThat I regard how altered were the caseWith natives of the country, FlorentinesOn whom the like mischance should fall: the rootsO' the tree survive the ruin of the trunk—No root of mine will throb, you understand.But I had predecessors, Florentines,Accused as I am now, and punished so—The Traversari: you know more than IHow stigmatized they are and lost in shame.Now Puccio, who succeeds me in command,Both served them and succeeded, in due time;He knows the way, holds proper documents,And has the power to lay the simple truthBefore an active spirit, as I count yours:And also there 's Tiburzio, my new friend,Will, at a word, confirm such evidence,He being the great chivalric soul we know.I put it to your tact, sir—were 't not well,—A grace, though but for contrast's sake, no more,—If you who witness, and have borne a shareInvoluntarily in my mischance,Should, of your proper motion, set your skillTo indicate—that is, investigateThe right or wrong of what mischance befellThose famous citizens, your countrymen?Nay, you shall promise nothing: but reflect,And if your sense of justice prompt you—good!

Lur.What, so soon?

I thank your ready presence and fair word.

I used to notice you in early days

As of the other species, so to speak,

Those watchers of the lives of us who act—

That weigh our motives, scrutinize our thoughts.

So, I propound this to your faculty

As you would tell me, were a town to take

... That is, of old. I am departing hence

Under these imputations; that is naught—

I leave no friend on whom they may rebound,

Hardly a name behind me in the land,

Being a stranger: all the more behooves

That I regard how altered were the case

With natives of the country, Florentines

On whom the like mischance should fall: the roots

O' the tree survive the ruin of the trunk—

No root of mine will throb, you understand.

But I had predecessors, Florentines,

Accused as I am now, and punished so—

The Traversari: you know more than I

How stigmatized they are and lost in shame.

Now Puccio, who succeeds me in command,

Both served them and succeeded, in due time;

He knows the way, holds proper documents,

And has the power to lay the simple truth

Before an active spirit, as I count yours:

And also there 's Tiburzio, my new friend,

Will, at a word, confirm such evidence,

He being the great chivalric soul we know.

I put it to your tact, sir—were 't not well,

—A grace, though but for contrast's sake, no more,—

If you who witness, and have borne a share

Involuntarily in my mischance,

Should, of your proper motion, set your skill

To indicate—that is, investigate

The right or wrong of what mischance befell

Those famous citizens, your countrymen?

Nay, you shall promise nothing: but reflect,

And if your sense of justice prompt you—good!

Jac.And if, the trial past, their fame stand clearTo all men's eyes, as yours, my lord, to mine—Their ghosts may sleep in quiet satisfied!For me, a straw thrown up into the air,My testimony goes for a straw's worth.I used to hold by the instructed brain,And move with Braccio as my master-wind;The heart leads surelier: I must move with you—As greatest now, who ever were the best.So, let the last and humblest of your servantsAccept your charge, as Braccio's heretofore,And tender homage by obeying you![Jacopogoes.

Jac.And if, the trial past, their fame stand clear

To all men's eyes, as yours, my lord, to mine—

Their ghosts may sleep in quiet satisfied!

For me, a straw thrown up into the air,

My testimony goes for a straw's worth.

I used to hold by the instructed brain,

And move with Braccio as my master-wind;

The heart leads surelier: I must move with you—

As greatest now, who ever were the best.

So, let the last and humblest of your servants

Accept your charge, as Braccio's heretofore,

And tender homage by obeying you![Jacopogoes.

Lur.Another!—Luria goes not poorly forth.If we could wait! The only fault 's with time;All men become good creatures: but so slow!

Lur.Another!—Luria goes not poorly forth.

If we could wait! The only fault 's with time;

All men become good creatures: but so slow!

(EnterDomizia.)

Lur.Ah, you once more?

Dom.Domizia, whom you knew,Performed her task, and died with it. 'T is I,Another woman, you have never known.Let the past sleep now!

Dom.Domizia, whom you knew,

Performed her task, and died with it. 'T is I,

Another woman, you have never known.

Let the past sleep now!

Lur.I have done with it.

Dom.How inexhaustibly the spirit grows!One object, she seemed erewhile born to reachWith her whole energies and die content,—So like a wall at the world's edge it stood,With naught beyond to live for,—is that reached?—Already are new undreamed energiesOutgrowing under, and extending fartherTo a new object; there 's another world.See! I have told the purpose of my life;'T is gained: you are decided, well or ill—You march on Florence, or submit to her—My work is done with you, your brow declares.But—leave you?—More of you seems yet to reach:I stay for what I just begin to see.

Dom.How inexhaustibly the spirit grows!

One object, she seemed erewhile born to reach

With her whole energies and die content,—

So like a wall at the world's edge it stood,

With naught beyond to live for,—is that reached?—

Already are new undreamed energies

Outgrowing under, and extending farther

To a new object; there 's another world.

See! I have told the purpose of my life;

'T is gained: you are decided, well or ill—

You march on Florence, or submit to her—

My work is done with you, your brow declares.

But—leave you?—More of you seems yet to reach:

I stay for what I just begin to see.

Lur.So that you turn not to the past!

Dom.You traceNothing but ill in it—my selfish impulse,Which sought its end and disregarded yours?

Dom.You trace

Nothing but ill in it—my selfish impulse,

Which sought its end and disregarded yours?

Lur.Speak not against your nature: best, each keepHis own—you, yours—most, now that I keep mine,—At least, fall by it, having too weakly stood.God's finger marks distinctions, all so fine,We would confound: the lesser has its use,Which, when it apes the greater, is foregone.I, born a Moor, lived half a Florentine;But, punished properly, can end, a Moor.Beside, there's something makes me understandYour nature: I have seen it.

Lur.Speak not against your nature: best, each keep

His own—you, yours—most, now that I keep mine,

—At least, fall by it, having too weakly stood.

God's finger marks distinctions, all so fine,

We would confound: the lesser has its use,

Which, when it apes the greater, is foregone.

I, born a Moor, lived half a Florentine;

But, punished properly, can end, a Moor.

Beside, there's something makes me understand

Your nature: I have seen it.

Dom.Aught like mine?

Lur.In my own East ... if you would stoop and helpMy barbarous illustration! It sounds ill;Yet there's no wrong at bottom: rather, praise.

Lur.In my own East ... if you would stoop and help

My barbarous illustration! It sounds ill;

Yet there's no wrong at bottom: rather, praise.

Dom.Well?

Lur.We have creatures there, which if you sawThe first time, you would doubtless marvel atFor their surpassing beauty, craft and strength.And though it were a lively moment's shockWhen you first found the purpose of forked tonguesThat seem innocuous in their lambent play,Yet, once made know such grace requires such guard,Your reason soon would acquiesce, I think,In wisdom which made all things for the best—So, take them, good with ill, contentedly,The prominent beauty with the latent sting,I am glad to have seen you wondrous Florentines:Yet ...

Lur.We have creatures there, which if you saw

The first time, you would doubtless marvel at

For their surpassing beauty, craft and strength.

And though it were a lively moment's shock

When you first found the purpose of forked tongues

That seem innocuous in their lambent play,

Yet, once made know such grace requires such guard,

Your reason soon would acquiesce, I think,

In wisdom which made all things for the best—

So, take them, good with ill, contentedly,

The prominent beauty with the latent sting,

I am glad to have seen you wondrous Florentines:

Yet ...

Dom.I am here to listen.

Lur.My own East!How nearer God we were! He glows aboveWith scarce an intervention, presses closeAnd palpitatingly, his soul o'er ours:We feel him, nor by painful reason know!The everlasting minute of creationIs felt there; now it is, as it was then;All changes at his instantaneous will,Not by the operation of a lawWhose maker is elsewhere at other work.His hand is still engaged upon his world—Man's praise can forward it, man's prayer suspend,For is not God all-mighty? To recastThe world, erase old things and make them new,What costs it Him? So, man breathes nobly there.And inasmuch as feeling, the East's gift,Is quick and transient—comes, and lo, is gone—While Northern thought is slow and durable,Surely a mission was reserved for me,Who, born with a perception of the powerAnd use of the North's thought for us of the East,Should have remained, turned knowledge to account,Giving thought's character and permanenceTo the too transitory feeling there—Writing God's message plain in mortal words.Instead of which, I leave my fated fieldFor this where such a task is needed least,Where all are born consummate in the artI just perceive a chance of making mine,—And then, deserting thus my early post,I wonder that the men I come amongMistake me! There, how all had understood,Still brought fresh stuff for me to stamp and keep,Fresh instinct to translate them into law!Me, who ...

Lur.My own East!

How nearer God we were! He glows above

With scarce an intervention, presses close

And palpitatingly, his soul o'er ours:

We feel him, nor by painful reason know!

The everlasting minute of creation

Is felt there; now it is, as it was then;

All changes at his instantaneous will,

Not by the operation of a law

Whose maker is elsewhere at other work.

His hand is still engaged upon his world—

Man's praise can forward it, man's prayer suspend,

For is not God all-mighty? To recast

The world, erase old things and make them new,

What costs it Him? So, man breathes nobly there.

And inasmuch as feeling, the East's gift,

Is quick and transient—comes, and lo, is gone—

While Northern thought is slow and durable,

Surely a mission was reserved for me,

Who, born with a perception of the power

And use of the North's thought for us of the East,

Should have remained, turned knowledge to account,

Giving thought's character and permanence

To the too transitory feeling there—

Writing God's message plain in mortal words.

Instead of which, I leave my fated field

For this where such a task is needed least,

Where all are born consummate in the art

I just perceive a chance of making mine,—

And then, deserting thus my early post,

I wonder that the men I come among

Mistake me! There, how all had understood,

Still brought fresh stuff for me to stamp and keep,

Fresh instinct to translate them into law!

Me, who ...

Dom.Who here the greater task achieve,More needful even: who have brought fresh stuffFor us to mould, interpret and prove right,—New feeling fresh from God, which, could we knowO' the instant, where had been our need of it?—Whose life re-teaches us what life should be,What faith is, loyalty and simpleness,All, once revealed but taught us so long sinceThat, having mere tradition of the fact,—Truth copied falteringly from copies faint,The early traits all dropped away,—we saidOn sight of faith like yours, "So looks not faithWe understand, described and praised before."But still, the feat was dared; and though at firstIt suffered from our haste, yet trace by traceOld memories reappear, old truth returns,Our slow thought does its work, and all's reknown.Oh noble Luria! What you have decreedI see not, but no animal revenge.No brute-like punishment of bad by worse—It cannot be, the gross and vulgar wayTraced for me by convention and mistake,Has gained that calm approving eye and brow!Spare Florence, after all! Let Luria trustTo his own soul, he whom I trust with mine!

Dom.Who here the greater task achieve,

More needful even: who have brought fresh stuff

For us to mould, interpret and prove right,—

New feeling fresh from God, which, could we know

O' the instant, where had been our need of it?

—Whose life re-teaches us what life should be,

What faith is, loyalty and simpleness,

All, once revealed but taught us so long since

That, having mere tradition of the fact,—

Truth copied falteringly from copies faint,

The early traits all dropped away,—we said

On sight of faith like yours, "So looks not faith

We understand, described and praised before."

But still, the feat was dared; and though at first

It suffered from our haste, yet trace by trace

Old memories reappear, old truth returns,

Our slow thought does its work, and all's reknown.

Oh noble Luria! What you have decreed

I see not, but no animal revenge.

No brute-like punishment of bad by worse—

It cannot be, the gross and vulgar way

Traced for me by convention and mistake,

Has gained that calm approving eye and brow!

Spare Florence, after all! Let Luria trust

To his own soul, he whom I trust with mine!

Lur.In time!

Dom.How, Luria?

Lur.It is midnight now,And they arrive from Florence with my fate.

Lur.It is midnight now,

And they arrive from Florence with my fate.

Dom.I hear no step.

Lur.I feel one, as you say.

(EnterHusain.)

Hus.The man returned from Florence!

Lur.As I knew.

Hus.He seeks thee.

Lur.And I only wait for him.Aught else?

Lur.And I only wait for him.

Aught else?

Hus.A movement of the Lucchese troopsSouthward—

Hus.A movement of the Lucchese troops

Southward—

Lur.Toward Florence? Have out instantly ...Ah, old use clings! Puccio must care henceforth.In—quick—'tis nearly midnight! Bid him come!

Lur.Toward Florence? Have out instantly ...

Ah, old use clings! Puccio must care henceforth.

In—quick—'tis nearly midnight! Bid him come!

(EnterTiburzio, Braccio,andPuccio.)

Lur.Tiburzio?—not at Pisa?

Tib.I returnFrom Florence: I serve Pisa, and must thinkBy such procedure I have served her best.A people is but the attempt of manyTo rise to the completer life of one;And those who live as models for the massAre singly of more value than they all.Such man are you, and such a time is this,That your sole fate concerns a nation moreThan much apparent welfare: that to proveYour rectitude, and duly crown the same,Imports us far beyond to-day's event,A battle's loss or gain: man's mass remains,—Keep but God's model safe, new men will riseTo take its mould, and other days to proveHow great a good was Luria's glory. True—I might go try my fortune as you urged,And, joining Lucca, helped by your disgrace,Repair our harm—so were to-day's work done;But where leave Luria for our sons to see?No, I look farther. I have testified(Declaring my submission to your arms)Her full success to Florence, making clearYour probity, as none else could: I spoke,And out it shone!

Tib.I return

From Florence: I serve Pisa, and must think

By such procedure I have served her best.

A people is but the attempt of many

To rise to the completer life of one;

And those who live as models for the mass

Are singly of more value than they all.

Such man are you, and such a time is this,

That your sole fate concerns a nation more

Than much apparent welfare: that to prove

Your rectitude, and duly crown the same,

Imports us far beyond to-day's event,

A battle's loss or gain: man's mass remains,—

Keep but God's model safe, new men will rise

To take its mould, and other days to prove

How great a good was Luria's glory. True—

I might go try my fortune as you urged,

And, joining Lucca, helped by your disgrace,

Repair our harm—so were to-day's work done;

But where leave Luria for our sons to see?

No, I look farther. I have testified

(Declaring my submission to your arms)

Her full success to Florence, making clear

Your probity, as none else could: I spoke,

And out it shone!

Lur.Ah—until Braccio spoke!

Brac.Till Braccio told in just a word the whole—His lapse to error, his return to knowledge:Which told ... Nay, Luria, I should droop the head,I whom shame rests with! Yet I dare look up,Sure of your pardon how I sue for it,Knowing you wholly. Let the midnight end!'Tis morn approaches! Still you answer not?Sunshine succeeds the shadow passed away;Our faces, which phantasmal grew and false,Are all that felt it: they change round you, turnTruly themselves now in its vanishing.Speak, Luria! Here begins your true career:Look up, advance! All now is possible,Fact's grandeur, no false dreaming! Dare and do!And every prophecy shall be fulfilledSave one—(nay, now your word must come at last)—That you would punish Florence!

Brac.Till Braccio told in just a word the whole—

His lapse to error, his return to knowledge:

Which told ... Nay, Luria, I should droop the head,

I whom shame rests with! Yet I dare look up,

Sure of your pardon how I sue for it,

Knowing you wholly. Let the midnight end!

'Tis morn approaches! Still you answer not?

Sunshine succeeds the shadow passed away;

Our faces, which phantasmal grew and false,

Are all that felt it: they change round you, turn

Truly themselves now in its vanishing.

Speak, Luria! Here begins your true career:

Look up, advance! All now is possible,

Fact's grandeur, no false dreaming! Dare and do!

And every prophecy shall be fulfilled

Save one—(nay, now your word must come at last)

—That you would punish Florence!

Hus.[Pointing toLuria'sdead body.]That is done.

Florence, 1850

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