is.of the most, peculiar 
nd. But it, also, declares, 
another, r. Shakspeare. ‘shall arise, 
if such things are to, ‘be, he will fill the eye 
and ear of, England with a-spell—not to be 
shared, and, notto be broken,._ 
_Miss Mitford’s play is, we believe, though 
not, the. earliest of her, tragedies upon the 
stage, the earliest of her writings in that 
styie.. It has been already performed a 
sufficient number of times to shew that it 
has attracted the public opinion—for repe- 
tition is the test, and the only test, of pub- 
lic merit. We shall, therefore, without 
dwelling on its public ‘performance, further 
than to say that it has been represented 
with an elegance and spirit that do credit 
to the actors and to the stage, proceed to 
give a few of those more striking passages, 
from which the general skill of the compo- 
sition may be best ascertained. The story 
is brief and simple-—Erizzo, a Venetian 
senator, ambitious of the dogeship, excites 
a party against the elder Foscari, the Doge 
—attempts to alienate his principal friend 
in the senate, Donato, by some supposed 
offence—intercepts the letters containing 
intelligence of the younger Foscari’s victory 
over the Brescians—and, as the master- 
stroke, stimulates Donato to forbid the 
marriage of his daughter, Camilla, with the 
Doge’s son. ‘The result of this treachery 
finally issues in the death of the lovers, and 
the detection of Erizzo, who is of course 
left to poetic justice. But the ingenuity 
of the writer is to be traced chiefly through 
the various changes of passion and circum- 
stance that continue working the machinery 
of the story, and are to be known only by 
quotation. 
In one of the early scenes, the delight of 
recovery from illness is expressed in this 
yery poetical manner :— 
Zeno. The air of this new day is sweet and fresh- 
ening, 
And breathes a health into the veins. 
You need no renovating ; yet to step 
From a sick bed and a dark silent room 
Into the pure and balmy air of June, 
With the bright sun lighting so bluea sky, 
Andsparkling on the waters all around, 
Full of the living noise of trade or mirth, 
Air, earth, and sea all motion—it is like 
Returning from the tomb to this fair world 
Of life'and sunshine! Such delight is well 
Worth a sharp fever. 
I trust 
The old Doge now comes forward—a 
character exty: emely well conceived through- 
out ; and, on the mention of some preter- 
natural warning, tells the story of an early 
incident in his own ambition. The passage 
is one of the most original of the play, and 
is certainly among the most effective in the 
representation :— 
Doge. Some seventy years ago—it seems to me 
As fresh as yesterday—being then a lad 
No higher than my hand, idle as an heir, 
And.all made up of gay and truant sports, 
I flew a kite unmatched im shape or size 
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“Over the river—we tvere at our house 
“Upon the Brenta then’ itSoared aldfte.l nievoo 
Driven by light vigorous breezes from thelseay orl 
Soared buoyantly;' till the diminished) toy {)o39joq 
‘Grew smaller than the falcon when she|stoops .,;) 
To dart upon her prey. I sent for cord, )...\,...., 
Servant on servant/hurrying, till the. kite oT 
Shrank to the size of a beetle : still T called, 
For cord, and sent to summon father, Lott t ng 
My little sisters, my old halting nurse,-2 |)" 
I would have had the whole world to’ survey | duq 
Me and my wondrous Rite: It stillisoared on 81 5(/ 
And I stood bending back in extasyy .10/e2990 10) 
My eyes on that small \point, ‘clapping my hands,) ): 
And shouting, and half-envying it the flight . 
That made it,a, companion of thestars,, ; 
When close beside me a deep voice exclaimed—, 
Aye, mount! mount! mount !—I started back, 
and saw 
A tall and aged woman, one of the wild 
Peculiar people whom wild Hungary sends. / 
Roving through every land. She drew her cloak 
About her, turned her black eyes up to Heaven, 
And thus pursued :—Aye, like his fortunes, mount, 
The future Doge of Venice! ,And before.» 
For very wonder any one couldspeak 
She disappeared. Yl ] 
The meeting of Camilla with her brother, 
in the loveliness and joy of jone. of those 
moods of mind which sometimes prefigure 
happy events, is highly poetical... 
The speech of the conspirator Erizzo.in 
the senate, in accusation of the pride, the 
age, and the popularity of the Doge, jis, a 
spirited piece of declamation:—>..,...,, 
Eriz. Fitter for usaman) 9; oisnotl 
who shall remember in this\state. of Venice! .,, |; 
There is another power great as, himself, .,, 
And greater than the people. Howsoe’ BY), 
Thou hast the bearing, Doge, of a born, prince,— 
To us, thy subjects, thou art but the’ head ~ 
Of the Venetian nobles. Thy proud rank 
Was given by them, thy equals. Each p ihe name 
That now surrounds thee hath in turn adorned’ 
“Thy splendid office, Not'a noble house: 
But is a link in the resplendent chain’ © (9.20! 
Of old Venetian story. ~-Weareborn; — | 5) 
Lords of the Adriatic; notaname , 
But hath been vowed her spouse, Think not, such 
names ; : 
Are common sounds; they have a music in them, 
An odorous recollection; they are part 
Of the old glorious past. Theit country knows 
And loves the lofty echo which gives back 
The memory of the buried great; and we 
Their sons—Oh our own names are watchwords 
to us 
That call to valour and to victory, — 
To goodness and tofreedom. This rae thou ” 
Forgotten. Every creeping artisan, aon 
Every hard-handed smoky slave is hearer ©” We 
To our great Doge than we: to them all smiles 
And princely graciousness—to us all fr sa4 
And kingly pride. Fitter for us a Doge a , he 
Of a congenial spirit, topreside | > 4 
Over our councils, and to guard and ‘guide p45 
The Senate and the State, sages os ‘ " , 4 ~ 
Young Foscari at length, returns, rand, to 
his surprise, hears that: he must: delay; his 
visit to Camilla: he wanders into a strain 
of lover-like reproach ofvhis i/lsfortunes) 
The third act. commences ,with a scene 
between the. daughter, of Donato. and her 
TO! 
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