Poems, translated and original

_An apartment in_ CONTARINI’S _palace_.--_Enter_ TERESA.

Teresa. Let him believe me false! Let him believe I spurned at truth--if such a thought can heal The bitter wound I planted in his breast! But mine--why--let it fester, and grow rank, And spread, and spread, till its consuming poison Hath eaten life out! Let him curse and hate me! Yet that were hard to bear! My misery, sure Might claim some pity! I would fain be thought on With grief, but not with scorn. I’d be remembered Like a dim, far off vision, wan and sad, Leaving a mournful yet a softened image, Mellowed by passing time to tenderer hues, To fade at length, like tremulous light, away!

_Enter_ STEFANO _with a paper_.

STEFANO.

Lady--a cavalier without desired me To give you this.

Teresa. (_Takes the paper, looks at it,--then hurriedly averts her head._)

And bade you bring the answer?

STEFANO.

He did.

Teresa. To write to him! to speak with him! I must not;--will not! I have reared the barrier That aye must sever us, and will abide The die which duty cast.--Take it--Stefano-- Tell him there is no answer. [_Exit_ STEFANO. Cruelty! Must we not probe deep, to dig out the venom? What matter if he deem me cold and proud? I must be so--to him!

_Enter_ MATILDA.

Matilda. Hush! I have tidings. The unhappy Foscarini is without, And craves to see you.

Teresa. Me!

Matilda. For one short moment. Oh! had you seen him as he urged the boon-- So suppliant, so desperate! his voice Tremulous with suffering.

Teresa. Hold--Matilda--hold! He is already answered.

Matilda. How?

Teresa. You ask?

Matilda. Oh, do not be so stern! what wrong can chance Or harm, if you will grant this poor request? But just to bid farewell, he says;--and then He’ll fly from you for ever, into lands Where Venice is unheard of.

Teresa. Urge no more! I will not see him. Let him go--and bury All thoughts of me for ever!

Matilda. He’ll not go; He will besiege you with his fruitless prayers, Though you are deaf to them.--Think of his danger.

Teresa. What?

Matilda. His life is sought by secret enemies. This is too certain; I myself have heard Dark-boding threats from Contarini’s lips, Uttered when he thought none beheld. You know His cold blood-thirsty hate!

Teresa. Oh, yes--too well! Hasten Matilda! warn him--bid him ’scape While there is time.

Matilda. Alas! he will not heed Warning, except from you.

Teresa. What must I do?

Matilda. Speak to him--bid him leave this fatal place. He will obey you. Pause not! your delay May seal his fate.

Teresa. No--no--say I command, Command him to be gone! by all that’s past-- (_bitterly._) The past! what curse is in that word! what claim Have I to his obedience?

Matilda. Dear Teresa, Weigh not a fancied duty ’gainst his life; Think--should he fall beneath their eager swords-- And you the cause?

Teresa. Oh heaven! Away--and tell him I come.--I do no wrong--to save the innocent! Lead the way--quick--but softly. [_Exeunt._