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Chaspa. 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 IBaltasar. Bal. (waking.) Here I am. Chaspa. Yes, there you are, like a one-eyed Alçade in a town without inhabitants. Bring a light and let me have supper. Bal. Where is your master? Chuspa. Do not trouble yourself about him. We have stopped a moment to breat he 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 hero . b Bal. (setting a light on the table.) Stowed rabit. Chaspa (eatums/ ) Conscience Stewed kitten, you mean? Ba/ And a pitcher of Pedro Ximenes, with a roasted pear in it. Chispa (drumkang). Ancient 13altasar, amigo! You know how to cry wine and sell vinegar. I tell you this is nothing but Winto Tinto of La Man. cha. with a tang of the swine-skill. 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 slidalgo's dinner, very little meat, and a great deal of table-cloth. Ban. Ha! ha! ha : Chaspa. And more noise than nuts. Bal. Ha! ha! ha : You must have your joke, Master Chisna. But shall I not ask bon Victo. rian in to take a draught of the Pedro Ximenes? Chispa. No: you might as well say “I)on'tyou-want—some o' to a dead man. Bal. Why does he go so often to Madrid: Chaspa. 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.
SCENE W. –VICTORIAN'S Chambers at Alcala.
//e plays and sings.
Padre Francisco! Padre Fraitsisco . What do you want of Padre Francisco’ Here is a pretty young maiden Who wants to confess her sins : Open the door and let her come in, I will shrive her from every sin.
l'ict. Padre Hypolito' Padre Hypolito ?
Ilup What do you want of Padré Hypolito”
Vict. Come, shrive me straight; for if love oe
I am the greatest sinner that doth live.
Hyp. The same old tale
I'll tell thee a story of my wedding-day.”
Pics. Nay, listen, for my heart is full, so full That I must speak.
//up. 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 virgius of Cologne :
J'uct. Nay, like the Sybil's volumes, thou
Those that remained, after the six were burned, Reing held more precious than the nine together, 13ut listen to my tale. Dost thou remember The Gipsy girl we saw at Cordova into the Romaiis in the market-place 2
Ilyp. Thou meanest Preciosa.
Vict. Ay, the same. Thou knowest how her image haunted me Long after we returned to Alcalá.
She's in Madrid.
IIyp. Vict. Ilup. And therefore in Madrid when thou shouldst be In Alcalá. l'act. 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, o were not meant for us. Hyp. Alas! Alas! I see thou art in love. Ilove keeps the cold out better than a cloak. It serves for food and raiment. Give a Spaniard His mass, his olla, ahd his Dona Luisa,—
The angels sang in heaven when she was born'
Ilyp. If thou wear'st nothing else upon thy
forehead, "To be indeed a wonder. 'uct. With thy unseasonable jests! Is there no virtue in the world? g/p Not much.
What, think'st thou, is she doing at this moment; Now, while we speak of her?
Wict. 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.
Ilup. 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 ?
Wict Ay, indeed I would ! Has thou e'er
Out upon thee, Pray, tell me,
Iłyp. Thou art, courageous.
I have thought, my dear Hypolito,
What fearful glances downward might we cast .
Into the hollow chasms of human life :
Vict. Hold thy peace Sl.e cares not for me. She may wed another, Or go into a convent, and, thus dying, Marry Achilles in the Elysian Fields. Alyp. (rising.) And so, good night! Good morning, I should say. (Clock strikes three.) Hark! ho the loud and ponderous mace of Time Knocks at the golden portals of the day: And So, o ore, good night! We'll speak more argely 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 ! Vict. Good night!
| 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 bloom Upon Olympus, making us immortal 2 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 IReflected 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 it 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 !. houseless, homeless, wandering arol. 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 irright 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, Wants for upon the margin of Life's stream; Waits to behold her rise from the dark waters, Clad in a mortal shapel. Alas! how many Must wait in vains The stream flows evermore, But from its silent deeps no spirit rises : Yet I, born under a propitious star, Have found the bright ideal of my dreams. Yes! she is ever with me. I can feel,
Prec. Why will you go so soon? Stay yet awhile; The poor too often turn away unheard From hearts that shut against them with a sound That will be heard in heaven. in ore Of your adversities. Keep nothing from me. What is your landlord's name * Ang. The Count of Lara. Proc. The ount of Lara! Oh, beware that tna in . Mistrust his pity, hold no parley with him : And rather die an outcast in the streets Than touch his gold. Ang. You know him them? Prec. As much As any woman may, and yet be pure. As you would keep your name without a blemish, Beware of him, ! Ang. Alas! what can I do? I cannot choose my friends. Each word of kindness, Come whence it may, is welcome to the poor Prec. Make me your friend. A girl so young and fair Should have no friends but those of her own
Pray tell me
sex. What is your name?
Prec. That name
Was given you that you might be an angel
say. Ang. My mother is alone. her. Prec. Some other time, them, when we meet agallı. You must not go away with words alone. | (Gives her a purse.) Take this. . Would it were more. Angs. I thank you, lady. Prec. No thanks. To-morrow, come to me again. I dance to-night,-perhaps for the last time: 13 nt what I gain. I promise shall be yours, lf that can save you from the Count of Lara. Ang. O my desir lady : how shall I be grateful For so much kindness? Prec. I deserve no thanks. Thank Heaven, not me. Ang. Both Heaven and you. Prec. Farewell, Reueluber that you come again to-luvrrow.
I dare not leave
Prec. Thou art not poor. Cruz. W laut ! ... who lurk about In dismal suburbs and unwholesome lames: I, who am housed worse than the galley slave, l, who alm fed worse than the kennelled hound, I, who alm clothed in rags, Beltran Cruzado, Not poor: Prec. Thou hast a stout heart and strong hands. Thou canst supply thy wants; what wouldst thou more ? Cruz. The gold of the Busne! give gold ! Prec. Beltram Cruzada! hear me once for all, I speak the truth. So long as I had gold, I gave it to thee freely, at all times, Never denied thee: liever had a wish But to fulfil thine own. Now go in peace! Be merciful, be patient, and, cre long, Thou shalt have more. Cruz. And if I have not, Thou shal no longer dwell here in rich chamers. Wear silken dresses, feed on dainty food, And live in idleness: but go with me, Dance the Romalis in the public streets, And wander wild again o'er field and fell; For here we stay not long. Prec. What! march again 2 Cruz. Ay, with all speed. I hate the crowded town : I cannot breathe shut up within its gates! Air, – I want air, and sunshine, and blue sky, The feeling of the breeze upon my face,
The feeling of the turf beneath my feet,
And no walls but the far-off mountain-tops.
| That doth reluind thee of her, let it plead
In my behalf, who am a feeble girl,
Cruz. O child, child, child:
Prec. Woe is me I have a strange misgiving in my heart! But that one deed of charity I'll do, 13efall what may , they cannot take that from
Card. I trust for c ver, It was a cruel sport. Arch. A barbarous pastime
Disgraceful to the land that calls itself
Card. Yet the people
(Enter a Servant ) Serv. The dancing-girl, and with her the musicians
Your grace was pleased to order, wait without.
Arch. Bid the i come in. Now shall your eyes
In what angelic vet voluptuous shape
Enter PRECIQL.A., with a mantle thrown over her head. She advances slowly, un modest, half-timd attitude.
Card. (o Oh, what a fair and ministering ange Was lost, | heaven when this sweet woman ell Prec. (kneelung before the ARCHIBISHOP.) I have obeyed the order of your grace. If I intrude upon your better hours. I proffer this excuse, and here beseech Your holy benediction. Arch. My God bless thee, And lead thee to a better life. Arise. Card. (aside.) Her acts are modest, and her words discreet. I did not look for this! Come hither, child. Is thy name Preciosa? Préc. Card. That is a gipsy name. father ? Prec. Beltram Cruzado, Count of the Calés. Arch. I have a dim remembrance of that man; He was a bold and reckless character, A sun-burnt, Ishmael!
Thus I am called.
Card. Dost thou remember Thy earlier days? Proc. Yes; by the Darro's side My childhood passed. I can remember still The river, and the mountains capped with show; The villages, where, yet a little child, I told the traveller's fortune in the street: The sinuo horse, the brigand and the snepheroi : The march across the moor: the halt at noon, The red fire of the evening camp, that light-d The forest where we slept ; and, farther back, As in a dream, or in somie fortner life, Gardens and palace walls. Arch. 'Tis the Alhaubra, Under whose towers the gipsy camp was fitched. 3ut time wears , and we would see the dance. Prec. Your grace shall be obeyed. (She says aside her man/otla . The music of the cachucha is played, and the danc, toins The Alt ("H 13 IS II () l’ and the '.' It lo! N.A. L /, woo on with gravasy and an occasional from n. to st make surns to each other. and, as the dance (outinues, become more and more pleased and erented; and at length rise from their seats. throw their caps in the air, and applaud vehemently as the scene closes )
Don Car. You mean to tell me yours have risen empty? Hyp. And amen said the ('id Campeador. /Jón Car. Pray how much need you? 1/u/). Some half-dozen ounces. Which with due interest— Don Car. (giring his purse.) What, am I a Jew, To put my money out at usury? Here is my purse. Hup. Thank you. A pretty purse, Madé by the hand of some fair Madrilene; Perhaps a keepsake. Don Car. No, tis at your service. Hup. Thank you again. Lié there good Saint Chrysostom, And with thy golden mouth remind me often I am the debtor of my friend. Don Car. Come you to-day from Alcalá Hup. This nonment. Don Car. And pray, how fares the brave Victorian? Hyp, Indifferent well: that is to say, not well. A daimsel has ensnared him with the glances Of her dark roving eyes, as herdsmen catch A steer of Andalusia with a lazo. He is in love.
But tell me,
Don Car. A common thing with poets. But who is
This floating lily 2 For, in fine, some woman,
Hyp. - Well, it is a woman .
Don Car. Well, well! who is this doll?
Hyp. Why, who do you think?
Don Car. His cousin Violānte.
1/up. Guess again. To ease his labouring heart, in the last storm He threw her overboard, with all her ingots.
Don Car'. I cannot guess: so tell me who it is.
Hyp. Not 1. Dön Car. Why not? Hup. (mysteriously.) Why? Because Mari Franca Was married four leagues out of Salamanca : Don Car. Jesting aside, who is it? Hyp. Preciosa. Don Car. Impossible ! The Count of Lara tells me She is not virtuous. #. Did I say she was 2 The Roman Emperor Claudius had a wife Whose name was Messalina, as I think: Valcria Messalina was her name. But hist . I see him yonder through the trees, Walking as in a dream. Don Car. . He comes this way. JIyp. It has been truly said by some wise Imall. That money, grief, and love cannot be hidden.
Enter VICTORIAN in front. Vict. Where'er thy step has passed is holy - ground ! These groves are sacred : I behold thee walking Under these shadowy trees, where we have - walked At evening, and I feel thy presence now : Feel thano place has taken a charm from thee, And is for ever hallowed. Hup. Mark him well! See how he strides away with lordly air, Like that odd guest of stone, that grim Commander, Who comes to sup with Juan in the play. Dom Car. What ho! Victorian' Jłup. Wilt thou sup with us? Vict. Holi. Amigos! Faith, I did not see you. IIow fares Don Carlos? Dom Car. At your service ever. Vict. How is that young and green-eyed Gaditana That you both wot of 2 Don Car. Ay, soft, emerald eyes?” She has gone back to Cadiz. IIyp. Ay, de mi / Vict. You o much to blame for letting her go back. A pretty girl; and in her tender eyes .Just that soft shade of green we sometimes sce In evening skies.
Hup. But, speaking of green eyes, Are thine green?
Vict. Not a whit. Why so?
Hyp. I think
The slightest shade of green would be becoming, For thou art jealous.
And they who are in love are always jealous',
Thou speakest truly, poet ! and methinks