?

_Mar._ That you
Return to Candia.

_Jac. Fos._ Then my last hope's gone.
I could endure my dungeon, for 'twas Venice;
I could support the torture, there was something
In my native air that buoyed my spirits up
Like a ship on the Ocean tossed by storms, 130
But proudly still bestriding[61] the high waves,
And holding on its course; but _there_, afar,
In that accursed isle of slaves and captives,
And unbelievers, like a stranded wreck,
My very soul seemed mouldering in my bosom,
And piecemeal I shall perish, if remanded.

_Mar._ And _here_?

_Jac. Fos._ At once--by better means, as briefer.[bm]
What! would they even deny me my Sire's sepulchre,
As well as home and heritage?

_Mar._ My husband!
I have sued to accompany thee hence, 140
And not so hopelessly. This love of thine
For an ungrateful and tyrannic soil
Is Passion, and not Patriotism; for me,
So I could see thee with a quiet aspect,
And the sweet freedom of the earth and air,
I would not cavil about climes or regions.
This crowd of palaces and prisons is not
A Paradise; its first inhabitants
Were wretched exiles.

_Jac. Fos._ Well I know _how_ wretched!

_Mar._ And yet you see how, from their banishment 150
Before the Tartar into these salt isles,
Their antique energy of mind, all that
Remained of Rome for their inheritance,
Created by degrees an ocean Rome;[62]
And shall an evil, which so often leads
To good, depress thee thus?

_Jac. Fos._ Had I gone forth
From my own land, like the old patriarchs, seeking
Another region, with their flocks and herds;
Had I been cast out like the Jews from Zion,
Or like our fathers, driven by Attila[63] 160
From fertile Italy, to barren islets,
I would have given some tears to my late country
And many thoughts; but afterwards addressed
Myself, with those about me, to create
A new home and fresh state: perhaps I could
Have borne this--though I know not.

_Mar._ Wherefore not?
It was the lot of millions, and must be
The fate of myriads more.

_Jac. Fos._ Aye--we but hear
Of the survivor