Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB
[blocks in formation]

SCENE I.-The COUNT OF LARA'S Chambers. Night. The COUNT in his dressing-gown, smoking and conversing with DON CARLOS.

Lara. You were not at the play to-night, Don
Carlos;

How happened it?
Don C.
Pray who was there?
Lara.
Why, all the town and court.
The house was crowded; and the busy fans
Among the gayly-dressed and perfumed tadies
Fluttered like butterfiles among the flowers.
There was the Countess Medina Celi;
The Goblin Lady with her Phantom Lover,
Her Lindo Don Diego; Dona Sol,

had engagements elsewhere,

And Dona Serafina, and her cousins.
Don C. What was the play?
Lara.
It was a dull affair;
One of those comedies in which you see,
As Lope says, the history of the world,
Brought down from Genesis to the Day of Judg.
ment.

There were three duels fought in the first act,
Three gentlemen receiving deadly wounds,
Laying their hands upon their hearts, and say-

ing,

"Oh, I am dead!" a lover in a closet,
An old hidalgo, and a gay Don Juan,
A Dona Inez with a black mantilla,
Followed at twilight by an unknown lover,
Who looks intently where he knows she is not!
Don C. Of course the Preciosa danced

night?

to

Lara. And never better. Every footstep fell As lightly as a sunbeam on the water.

I think the girl extremely beautiful

Don C. Almost beyond the privilege of wo

man!

[blocks in formation]

Lara. How credulous you are! Why look

you, friend,

There's not a virtuous woman in Madrid,
In this whole city! And would you persuade

[blocks in formation]

She is a gipsy girl.

You forget

Lara. And therefore wor The easier.

Don C. Nay, not to be won at all!
The only virtue that a Gipsy prizes

Is chastity. That is her only virtue.
Dearer than life she holds it. I remember
A gipsy woman, a vile, shameless bawd,
Whose craft was to betray the young and fair:
And yet this woman was above all bribes.
And when a noble lord, touched by her beauty,―
The wia and wizard beauty of her race,-
Offered her gold to be what she made others,
She turned upon him with a look of scorn,
And smote him in the face!

Lara.
And does that prove
That Preciosa is above suspicion?
Don C. It proves a nobleman may be repulsed
When he thinks conquest easy. I believe
That woman, in her deepest degradation,
Holds something sacred, something undefiled,
Some pledge and keepsake of her high nature,
And, like the diamond in the dark, retains
Some quenchless gleam of the celestial light:
Lara. Yet Preciosa would have taken the gold.
Don C. (rising). I do not think so.
Lara.
I am sure of it.
But why this haste? Stay yet a little longer,
And fight the battles of your Dulcinea.
Don C Tis late. I must be gone, for if I stay
You will not be persuaded.

Lara.

Yes; persuade me.

Don C. No one so deaf as he who will not

[blocks in formation]

Enter FRANCISCO with a casket.

Well, Francisco,

What speed with Preciosa? Fran.

None, my lord.

123

ring sound, that soars up to my lady's window. like the song of a swallow. And you others? Other Mus. We are singers, please your honour Chispa. You are too many. Do you think we are going to sing mass in the cathedral of Cor

She sends your jewels back, and bids me tell dova? Four men can make but little use of one

you

She is not to be purchased by your gold.

Lara. Then I will try some other way to win her.

Pray, dost thou know Victorian?
Fran.

Yes, my lord;
I saw him at the jeweller's to-day.
Lara. What was he doing there?
Fran.

I saw him buy

A golden ring, that had a ruby in it.
Lura. Was there another like it?
Fran.

One so like it
It is well.
To-morrow morning bring that ring to me,
Do not forget. Now light me to my bed.

I could not choose between them.
Lara.

[Exeunt. SCENE II-A Street in Madrid. Enter CHISPA, followed by Musicians, with a bagpipe, guitars, and other instruments.

Chispa. Abernuncio Satanas! and a plague on all lovers who ramble about at night, drinking the elements, instead of sleeping quietly in their beds. Every dead man to his cemetery, say ; and every friar to his monastery. Now, here's my master, Victorian, yesterday a cowkeeper, and to-day a gentleman: yesterday a student, and to-day a lover; and I must be up later than the nightingale, for as the abbot sings so must the sacristan respond. God grant he may soon be married, for then shall all this serenading cease. Ay, marry! marry! marry! Mother, what does marry mean? It means to spin, to bear children, and to weep, my daughter! And of a truth, there is something more in matrimony than the wedding-ring. (To the musicians.) And now, gentlemen, Pax vobiscum! as the ass said to the cabbages. Pray, walk this way; and don't hang down your heads. It is no disgrace to have an old father and a ragged shirt. Now, look you, you are gentlemen who lead the life of crickets; you enjoy hunger by day, and noise by night. Yet, I beseech you, for this once be not loud, but pathetic; for it is a serenade to a damsel in bed, and not to the Man in the Moon. Your object is not to arouse and terrify, but to soothe and bring lulling dreams. Therefore, each shall not play his instrument as if it were the only one in the universe, but gently, and with a certain modesty, according with the others. Pray, how may I call thy name, my friend?

First Mus Gerónimo Gil, at your service. Chispa. Every tub smells of the wine that is in it. Pray. Gerónimo, is not Saturday an unpleasant day with thee?

First Mus Why so?

Cispa. Because I have heard it said that Saturday is an unpleasant day with those who have but one shirt. Moreover, I have seen thee at the tavern, and if thou canst run as fast as thou canst drink, I should like to hunt hares with thee. What instrument is that?

First Mus. An Aragonese bagpipe. Chispa. Pray, art thou related to the bagpiper of Bujalance, who asked a maravedi for playing, and ten for leaving off?

First Mus. No, your honour.

Chispa. I am glad of it. What other instru. ments have we?

Second and Third Mus. We play the bandurria.

Chispa. A pleasing instrument. And thou? Fourth Mus. ffe.

Chispa. I like it; it has a cheerful, soul-stir,

F

shoe, and I see not how you can all sing in one song. But follow me along the garden wal. This is the way my master climbs to the lady's window. It is by the vicar's skirts that the devil climbs into the belfry. Come, follow me, and make no noise. [Exeunt

SCENE III.-PRECIOSA'S Chamber stands at the open window.

She

Prec. How slowly through the lilac-scented air Descends the tranquil moon! Like thistle

down

The vapoury clouds float in the peaceful sky!
And sweetly from yon hollow vaults of shade
The nighingales breathe out their souls in song.
And hark! what songs of love, what soul-like
Answer them from below!
sounds,

[blocks in formation]

been?

Since yesterday I have no news from thee.

Ere long the time will come, sweet Preciosa,
Vict. Since yesterday I've been in Alcalá.
When that dull distance shall no more divide us;
And I no more shall scale thy wall by night
To steal a kiss from thee, as I do now.

Prec. An honest thief, to steal but what thou givest.

Viet. And we shall sit together unmolested, And words of true love pass from tongue to tongue,

As singing birds from one bongh to another. Prec. That were a life indeed to make time

envious!

I knew that thou wouldst visit me to-night. I saw thee at the play,

Vict.

Sweet child of air!

Never did I behold thee so attired

And garmented in beauty as to-night!
What hast thou done to make thee look so fair?
Prec. Am I not always fair?

Vict.

Ay, and so fair That I am jealous of all eyes that see thee, And wish that they were blind. Pres. I heed them not: When thou art present, I see none but thee! Vict. There's nothing fair nor beautiful but takes

Something from thee that makes it beautiful. Prec. And yet thou leavest me for those dusty books.

Vict. Thou comest between me and those books too often!

I see thy face in every thing I see!

The paintings in the chapel wear thy looks,
The canticles are changed to sarabans.
And with the learned doctors of the schools
J see thee dance cachucas.

Prec.

In good sooth, I dance with learned doctors of the schools To-morrow morning.

Vict.

And with whom, I pray?

Prec. A grave and reverend Cardinal, and his Grace

The Archbishop of Toledo.

Vict.

Is this?

What mad jest

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

Tend ever on, and rest not on the Present.
As drops of rain fall into some dark well,
And from below comes a scarce audible sound,
So fall our thoughts into the dark Hereafter,
And their mysterious echo reaches us.

Prec. I have felt it so, but found no words to say it!

I cannot reason: I can only feel!

But thou hast language for all thoughts anā feelings.

Thou art a scholar; and sometimes I think
We cannot walk together in this world!
The distance that divides us is too great!
Henceforth thy pathway lies among the stars;
I must not hold thee back.
Vict.
Dost thou still doubt? What I most prize in

Woman

Thou little sceptic!

Is her affections, not her intellect!
The intellect is finite, but the affections
Are infinite, and cannot be exhausted.
Compare me with the great men of the eart!.;
What am I? Why, a pigmy among giants!
But if thou lovest,-mark me! I say lovest,
The greatest of thy sex excels thee not!
The world of the affections is thy world,
Not that of man's ambition. In that stillness
Which most becomes a woman, calm and holy,
Thou sittest by the fireside of the heart,
Feeding its flame. The element of fire
Is pure. It cannot change nor hide its nature,
But burns as brightly in a Gipsy camp
As in a palace-hall. Art thou convinced?
Prec. Yes, that I love thee, as the good love
heaven:

But not that I am worthy of that heaven.
How shall I more deserve it?

[blocks in formation]

I have no thoughts that do not think of thee. Vict. (giving her a ring). And to remind thee of my love, take this:

A serpent, emblem of Eternity;

A ruby, say a drop of my heart's blood.
Prec. It is an ancient saying that the ruby
Brings gladness to the weater, and preserves
The heart pure, and, if laic beneath the pillow,
Drives away evil dreams. But then, alas!
It was a serpent tempted Eve to sin.

Vict. What convent of barefooted Carmelites Taught thee so much theology?

Prec. (Laying her hand upon his mouth.) Hush!

. hush!

Good night! and may all holy angels guard thee!

Vict. Good night! good night! thou art my gaardian angel!

1 have no other saint than thou to pray to! (He descends by the balcony.) Prec. Take care and do not hurt thee. Art thon safe?

Vict. (from the garden). Safe as my love for thee!

But art thon safe? Obers can climb a balcony by moonlight As well as I. Pray shut thy window close; I am jealous of the perfumed air of night That from this garden climbs to kiss thy lips. Prec. (throwing down her handkerchief) Thou silly child! Take this to blind thine eyes. It is my benison.

Vict.

And brings to me Sweet fragrance from thy lips, as the soft wind Wafts to the out-bound mariner the breath Of the beloved land he leaves behind. Prec. Make not thy voyage long, Vict.

To-morrow night

Shall see me safe returned. Thou art the star
To guide me to an anchorage. Good night!
My beauteous star! My star of love, good

night

Prec. Good night.

Watchman (at a distance). Ave Maria Purissima!

SCENE IV.-An Inn on the road to Alcala. BALTASAR asleep on a bench.

Enter CHISPA.

Chispa. And here we are, half way to Alcala, between cocks and midnight. Body o' me! what an inn this is! The lights out, and the landlord asleep. Holá! ancient Baltasar.

Bal. (waking.) Here I am.

Chispa. Yes, there you are, like a one-eyed Alcade in a town without inhabitants. Bring a light and let me have supper.

Bal. Where is your master?

Chispa. Do not trouble yourself about him. We have stopped a moment to breathe our horses; and, if he chooses to walk up and down in the open air, looking into the sky as one who hears it rain. that does not satisfy my hunger, you know. But be quick, for I am in a hurry, and every man stretches his legs according to the length of his coverlet. What have we here? Bal. (setting a light on the table.) Stewed rabbit.

Chispa (eating) Conscience of Portalegre! Stewed kitten, you mean?

Bal And a pitcher of Pedro Ximenes, with a roasted pear in it.

[blocks in formation]

asicep!

And it was all a dream. O sleep, sweet sleep!
Whatever form thou takest thou art fair,
Holding unto our lips thy goblet filled
Out of Oblivion's well, a healing draught!
The candles have burned low; it must be late.
Where can Victorian be? Like Fray Carrillo,
The only place in which one cannot find him
Is his own cell. Here's his guitar, that seldom
Feels the caresses of its master's hand.

Open thy silent lips, sweet instrument!
And make dull midnight merry with a song.

[blocks in formation]

Vict. Padre Hypolito! Padre Hypolito?
Ilup What do you want of Padre Hypolito
Vict. Come, shrive me straight; for if love be
a sin,

I am the greatest sinner that doth live.
I will confess the sweetest of all crimes,-
A maiden wooed and won.
Hyp.

The same old tale
Of the old woman in the chimney-corner,
Who, while the pot boils, says, "Come here, my
child,

I'll tell thee a story of my wedding-day."
Vict. Nay, listen, for my heart is full, so full
That I must speak.
Пyp.
Alas! that heart of thine
Is like a scene in the old play the curtain
Rises to solemn music, and lo! enter
The eleven thousand virgins of Cologne!
Vict. Nay, like the Sybil's volumes, thou
shouldst say:

Chispa (drinking). Ancient Baltasar, amigo! You know how to cry wine and sell vinegar. I tell Those that remained, after the six were burned, you this is nothing but Vinto Tinto of La Man-Being held more precious than the nine together. cha, with a tang of the swine-skin.

Bal. I swear to you by Saint Simon and Judas, is is all as I say.

Chispa. And I swear to you, by Saint Peter and Saint Paul, that it is no such thing. Moreover, your supper is like the hidalgo's dinner, very little meat, and a great deal of table-cloth." Bar. Ha! ha! ha!

Chispa. And more noise than nuts.

Bal. Ha ha! ha! You must have your joke, Master Chispa. But shall I not ask Don Victorian in to take a draught of the Pedro Ximenes? Chispa. No; you might as well say "Don'tyou-want-some?" to a dead man.

Bal. Why does he go so often to Madrid? Chispa. For the same reason that he eats no supper. He is in love. Were you ever in love, Baltasar?

Bal. I was never out it, good Chispa. It has been the torment of my life.

Chispa. What, are you on fire, too, old haystack? Why we shall never be able to put you

out.

But listen to my tale. Dost thou remember
The Gipsy girl we saw at Córdova
Dance the Romalis in the market-place?
Hyp. Thou meanest Preciosa.
Vict.

I know it.

Ay, the same. Thou knowest how her image haunted me Long after we returned to Alcalá. She's in Madrid. Пур. Vict. And I'm in love. Hyp. And therefore in Madrid when thon shouldst be In Alcalá.

Vict. Oh, pardon me, my friend,
If I so long have kept this secret from thee;
But silence is the charm that guards such
treasures,

And, if a word be spoken ere the time,
They sink again, they were not meant for us.
Hyp. Alas! Alas! I see thou art in love.
Love keeps the cold out better than a cloak.
It serves for food and raiment. Give a Spaniard
His mass, his olla, and his Dona Luisa,—

[blocks in formation]

She lies asleep,

And from her parted lips, her gentle breath
Comes like the fragrance from the lips of flowers.
Her tender limbs are still, and, on her breast
The cross she prayed to, ere she fell asleep,
Rises and falls with the soft tide of dreams,
Like a light barge safe moored.
Hyp.
Which means, in prose,
She's sleeping with her mouth a little open!
Vict. Oh, would I had the old magician's glass,
To see her as she lies in childlike sleep!
Hyp. And wouldst thou venture?
Vict.
Ay, indeed I would!
Hyp. Thou art courageous.
Has thou e'er
reflected

How much lies hidden in that word, now?
Vict. Yes, all the awful mystery of Life!

I have thought, my dear Hypolito,
That could we, by some spell of magic, change
The world and its inhabitants to stone,
In the same attitudes as they now are in,
What fearful glances downward might we cast.
Into the hollow chasms of human life!
What groups should we behold about the death-
bed.

Putting to shame the group of Niobe!
What joyful welcomes, and what sad farewells!
What stony hearts in those congealed eyes!
What visible joy or anguish in those cheeks!
What bridal poips and what funereal shows!
What foes, like gladiators, fierce and struggling!
What lovers with their marble lips together!

Hyp. Ay, there it is! and if I were in love,
This is the very point I most should dread,
This magic glass, these magic spells of thine,
Might tell a tale were better left untold.
For instance, they might show us thy fair cousin,
The Lady Violante, bathed in tears

Of love and anger, like the maid of Colchis, Whom thou, another faithless Argonaut, Having won that golden fleece, a woman's love, Desertest for this Glaucé.

[blocks in formation]

Of Preciosa when we meet again.

Get thee to bed, and the magician, Sleep. Shall show her to thee, in his magic glass, In all her loveliness. Good night!

Good night!

[Exit.

Vict. (Throws himself into the arm-chair which HYPOLITO has left, and lays a large book open upon his knees.)

Must read, or sit in reverie and watch
The changing colour of the waves that break
Upon the idle sea-shore of the mind!
Visions of Fame! that once did visit ine,
Making night glorious with your smile, where
are ye?

Oh, who shall give me, now that ye are gone,
Juice of those immortal plants that ploom
Upon Olympus, making us immortal?

Or teach me where that wondrous mandrake grows,

Whose magic root, torn from the earth with groans,

At midnight hour, can scare the fiends away,
And make the mind prolific in its fancies?
I have the wish, but want the will, to act!
Souls of great men departed! ye whose words
Have come to light from the swift river of Time,
Like Roman swords found in the Tagus' bed,
Where is the strength to wield the arms ye
bore?

From the barred visor of antiquity
Reflected shines the eternal light of Truth,
As from a mirror! all the means of action-
The shapeless masses-the materials-
Lie everywhere about us. What we need
Is the celestial fire to change the flint
Into transparent crystal, bright and clear.
That fire is genius! the rude peasant sits
At evening in his smoky cot, and draws
With charcoal figures on the uncouth wall.
The son of genius comes, foot-sore with travel,
And begs a shelter from the inclement night.
He takes the charcoal from the peasant's hand,
And, by the magic of his touch at once
Transfigured, all its hidden virtues shine,
And, in the eyes of the astonished clown,
It gleams a diamond! Even thus transformed,
Rude popular traditions, and old tales
Shine as immortal poems at the touch

Of some poor, houseless, homeless, wandering bard,

Who had but a night's lodgings for his pains.
But there are brighter dreams than those of
Fame,

Which are the dreams of Love! Out of the heart

Rises the bright ideal of those dreams,
As from some woodland fount a spirit rises
And sinks again into its silent deeps.
Ere the enamoured knight can touch her robe!
'Tis this ideal that the soul of man,
Like the enamoured knight beside the fountain,
Waits for upon the margin of Life's stream;
Waits to behold her rise from the dark waters,
Clad in a mortal shape! Alas! how many
Must wait in vain! The stream flows ever-

[blocks in formation]
« AnteriorContinuar »