Murders, that with affright Anger, and lust, and pride; That choke Life's groaning tide! These are the woes of Slaves; They glare from the abyss ; They cry, from unknown graves, "We are the Witnesses !" THE SLAVE SINGING AT MIDNIGHT. LOUD he sang the Psalm of David! In that hour, when night is calmest, Songs of triumph, and ascriptions, Paul and Silas, in their prison, THE QUADROON GIRL. THE Slaver in the broad lagoon Lay moored with idle sail; He waited for the rising moon, And for the evening gale. Under the shore his boat was tied, Odours of orange-flowers, and spice, The planter, under his roof of thatch, I only wait the evening tides, And the rising of the moon." Like one half-curious, half-amazed, And her own long, raven hair. As lights in some cathedral aisle "The soil is barren,—the farm is old!” The thoughtful Planter said; Then looked upon the Slaver's gold, His heart within him was at strife But the voice of nature was too weak; Then pale as death grew the maiden's cheek, Her hands as icy cold. The Slaver led her from the door, Some pledge and keepsake of her higher nature, And, like the diamond in the dark, retains Some quenchless gleam of the celestial light! I do not think so, Lara. Yet Preciosa would have taken the gold. Don C. (rising.) Lara. But why this haste? longer, And fight the battles of your Dulcinea. Don C. 'Tis late. I must begone, for if I stay You will not be persuaded. Lara. Yes; persuade me. Don C. No one so deaf as he who will not hear! Lara. No one so blind as he who will not see! Don C. And so good night. I wish you pleasant dreams, And greater faith in women. Lara. [Exit. Another, and another, and another, (Enter FRANCISCO with a casket.) me tell you She is not to be purchased by your gold. Lara. Then I will try some other way to win her. Fran. Pray dost thou know Victorian ? Lara. Fran. I saw him buy A golden ring that had a ruby in it. Lara. 73 Was there another like it? I could not choose between them. me. 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 I; and every friar to his monastery. Now, here's my master, Victorian, yesterday a cow-keeper, 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 SCENE III.-PRECIOSA's chamber. and bring lulling dreams. Therefore, each shall not play upon 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, 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? Chispa. 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 instruments have we? Second and Third Mus. We play the bandurria. Chispa. A pleasing instrument. And thou? Fourth Mus. The fife. Chispa. I like it; it has a cheerful, soul-stirring sound, that soars up to my lady's window like the song of a swallow. And you others? Other Mus. We are the singers, please your honour. Chispa. You are too many. Do you think we are going to sing mass in the cathedral of Cordova? Four men can make but little use of one shoe, and I see not how you can all sing in one song. But follow me along the garden That is the way my master climbs to the lady's window. It is by wall. the vicar's skirts that the devil climbs into the belfry. Come, follow me, and make no noise. [Exeunt. |