University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

THE CITY. Paolucci, Officers, Citizens.
Officer.
The Consul has been wounded. Who is left
To lead us? and what leader would suffice?
The strongest sink with famine, lying down
Along the battlements, and only raised
When sounds the trumpet.

First Citizen.
And most fall again.

Second Citizen.
Our day is come, the day of our disgrace.

Paolucci.
Ours never was that day, and never shall be.
Ye may have lost your consul (let us hope
He is not lost to us) but we are sure
His memory and example yet remain
With all their life in them. [To the People.]

Young men! perhaps
Ye know me not: your fathers knew me well;
Their fathers better. Three-score years ago
I was your consul: none then preached surrender;
And let none now: yet there were those around
Who would have pinfolded the quiet flock
As gladly as yon shepherd at the gate.

People.
We can resist no longer. Who can count
The slain?

Paulucci.
Say, rather, who can praise the slain?
Glorified souls! happy your sleep! ye hear
No shameful speech from brethren!

People.
Arms alone
Should not subdue us: famine has: we starve.

Paolucci.
While life remains life's sufferings will arise,
Whether from famine or from sharper sting
Than famine: upon every hearth almost
There creeps some scorpion never seen till felt.
But until every arm that guards our walls
Drop helpless at the starting ribs, until
That hour, stand all united. Ye despair
Untimely. He who rules as rules us well,
Exciting no false hope, as bad men do
When they have led where none can extricate.
I was your consul while the king Lothaire
Besieged the city, proud as any prelate,
Swearing he would reduce it. Other kings
Have sworn the same . . and kept their word like kings . .
Cursing and flying. We have met brave foes;
But they met braver. Fly; and let the crook
Drag a vile flock back from its flight to slaughter.

All.
We scorn the thought. But where lies human help?

Paolucci.
I may be spared to seek it, spared to try
If one brave man breathes yet among the powerful.
Who knows not Marchesella?

Officer.
Brave he is,
But mindful of the emperor. He saw
Milano, which had stood two thousand years,
Sink; every tree, on hill or vale, cut down,
The vine, the olive, ripe and unripe corn
Burnt by this minister of God. Throughout
There was no shade for sick men to die under,
There was no branch to strew upon the bier.

Another Officer.
His father was courageous, why not he?

A third Officer.
Above all living men is Marchesella
Courageous: but pray what are our deserts
With him, that he should hazard for our sake
His lordly castles and his wide domains?
Perhaps his fame in arms! 'Twere mad to hope it.
Prudence, we know, for ever guides his courage.

Paolucci.
If generous pity dwells not in his house,
As once it did, with every other virtue,
Seek it, where brave men never seek in vain,
In woman's breast: away to Bertinoro:
Take heart: the countess is a Frangipani:
There are a thousand trumpets in that name:
Methinks I hear them blowing toward Ancona.
Old men talk long: but be not ye so idle:
Hie to the walls: I will sue her. To arms!
To arms! the consul of past years commands you.