That, like a serpent through the valley creeping,

Glides at its foot.

PRECIOSA.

O, yes! I see it now,

Yet rather with my heart, than with mine eyes,
So faint it is. And, all my thoughts sail thither,
Freighted with prayers and hopes, and forward
urged

Against all stress of accident, as, in

The Eastern Tale, against the wind and tide,
Great ships were drawn to the Magnetic Mountains,
And there were wrecked, and perished in the sea!

(She weeps.)

VICTORIAN.

O gentle spirit! Thou didst bear unmoved
Blasts of adversity and frosts of fate!
But the first ray of sunshine that falls on thee
Melts thee to tears! O, let thy weary heart
mine! and it shall faint no more,

Lean

upon

Nor thirst, nor hunger; but be comforted

And filled with my

affection.

PRECIOSA.

Stay no longer!

My father waits. Methinks I see him there,

Now looking from the window, and now watching Each sound of wheels or foot-fall in the street,

And saying, "Hark' she comes!" O father! father!

(They descend the pass.

CHISPA remains behind.)

CHISPA.

I have a father, too, but he is a dead one. Alas and alack-a-day! Poor was I born, and poor do I remain. I neither win nor lose. Thus I wag through the world, half the time on foot, and the other half walking; and always as merry as a thunder-storm in the night. And so we plough. along, as the fly said to the ox. Who knows what may

happen? Patience, and shuffle the

cards! I am not yet

so bald, that you can see my brains; and perhaps, after all, I shall some day go to Rome, and come back Saint Peter. Benedicite! [Exit. Then enter BARTOLOMÉ wildly, as if in pursuit, with a

(A pause.

carbine in his hand.)

BARTOLOMÉ.

They passed this way! I hear their horses' hoofs!
Yonder I see them! Come, sweet caramillo,

This serenade shall be the Gipsy's last!

(Fires down the pass.)

Ha ha! Well whistled, my sweet caramillo !
Well whistled!-I have missed her!-O, my God!
(The shot is returned, BARTOLOMÉ falls.)

TRANSLATIONS.