AMBITION.

  Alas! alas! 
  I tremble at the height, Whene’er I think
  Of the hot barons, of the fickle people,
  And the inconstancy of power, I tremble
  For thee, dear father.

RIENZI’S WRONGS.

One of the Ursini is condemned to death—­his brother intercedes.

Rie.  And darest talk thou to me of brothers?  Thou, Whose groom—­wouldst have me break my own just laws, To save thy brother? thine!  Hast thou forgotten When that most beautiful and blameless boy, The prettiest piece of innocence that ever Breath’d in this sinful world, lay at thy feet, Slain by thy pampered minion, and I knelt Before thee for redress, whilst thou—­didst never Hear talk of retribution?  This is justice, Pure justice, not revenge!—­Mark well, my lords, Pure, equal justice.  Martin Ursini Had open trial, is guilty, is condemned, And he shall die!

  Colonna.  Yet listen to us—­

Rie.  Lords, If ye could range before me all the peers, Prelates, and potentates of Christendom,—­ The holy pontiff kneeling at my knee, And emperors crouching at my feet, to sue For this great robber, still I should be blind As justice.  But this very day a wife, One infant hanging at her breast, and two, Scarce bigger, first-born twins of misery, Clinging to the poor rags that scarcely hid Her squalid form, grasped at my bridle-rein To beg her husband’s life; condemned to die For some vile, petty theft, some paltry scudi:  And, whilst the fiery war-horse chaf’d and sear’d, Shaking his crest, and plunging to get free, There, midst the dangerous coil, unmov’d, she stood, Pleading in piercing words, the very cry Of nature!  And, when I at last said no—­ For I said no to her—­she flung herself And those poor innocent babes between the stones And my hot Arab’s hoofs.  We sav’d them all—­ Thank heaven, we sav’d them all! but I said no To that sad woman, midst her shrieks.  Ye dare not Ask me for mercy now.

THE USURPER.

  He bears him like a prince, save that he lacks
  The port serene of majesty.  His mood
  Is fitful; stately now, and sad; anon,
  Full of a hurried mirth; courteous awhile,
  And mild; then bursting, on a sudden, forth,
  Into sharp, biting taunts.

* * * * *

  New power
  Mounts to the brain like wine.  For such disease,
  Your skilful leech lets blood.

RIENZI ON HIS DAUGHTER’S MARRIAGE.

  A bridal
  Is but a gilt and painted funeral
  To the fond father who hath yielded up
  His one sweet child.  Claudia, thy love, thy duty,
  Thy very name, is gone.  Thou are another’s;
  Thou hast a master now; and I have thrown
  My precious pearl away.  Yet men who give
  A living daughter to the fickle will