I cannot love thee. me, This is not my fault, Thou art a man And this same passionate humor in your blood What wouldst thou with Has marred your fortune. Yes; I see it now; The line of life is crossed by many marks. Shame! shame! O you have wronged the maid who loved you! A feeble girl, who have not long to live, Thy rash and headlong moods estrange her from thee. Thou art unhappy in this hopeless passion. I never sought thy love; never did aught That hurries thee to crimes and deeds of blood. Bart. For thy dear sake I will be gentle. Thou shalt teach me patience. Prec. Then take this farewell, and depart in peace. Thou must not linger here. Bart. How could you do it? Vict. I never loved a maid; For she I loved was then a maid no more. Whispered the secret. Prec. A little bird in the air There, take back your gold! Your hand is cold, like a deceiver's hand! There is no blessing in its charity! Make her your wife, for you have been abused; And you shall mend your fortunes, mending hers. Vict. (aside). How like an angel's speaks the tongue of woman, When pleading in another's cause her own! And sent me this protector! Now be strong, Give me your hand. It is not crossed, I see. Prec. And for yourself alone. (Tries to take the ring.) No; never from my hand Shall that be taken! In Guadarrama, and the fortune-teller Vict. (aside). Be still, my swelling heart! one moment, still! Why, 't is the folly of a love-sick girl. O, you will not dare To utter such a falsehood! Prec. 'T is thou! 't is thou! Yes; yes; my heart's elected! My dearest-dear Victorian ! my soul's heaven! Where hast thou been so long? Why didst thou leave me? Vict. Ask me not now, my dearest Preciosa. Let me forget we ever have been parted! Prec. Hadst thou not come Vict. I pray thee, do not chide me! Prec. I should have perished here among these Gypsies. Vict. Forgive me, sweet! for what I made thee suffer. Think'st thou this heart could feel a moment's joy, Thon being absent? O, believe it not! Prec. I have forgiven thee. Ere those words Vict. What more of this strange story? Chispa. Nothing more. Your friend, Don Carlos, now at the village Showing to Pedro Crespo, the Alcalde, The proofs of what I tell you. The old hag, Who stole you in your childhood, has confessed; And probably they 'll hang her for the crime, To make the celebration more complete. Vict. No; let it be a day of general joy; Fortune comes well to all, that comes not late. Now let us join Don Carlos. Hyp. So farewell, The student's wandering life! Sweet serenades, And leaves the Gypsy with the Spanish Student. And we have all Shep. San Ildefonso. Been drinking at the tavern to your health, As the old song says, His body is in Segovia, His soul is in Madrid. Prec. Is this a dream? O, if it be a dream, Let me sleep on, and do not wake me yet! Repeat thy story! Say I'm not deceived! Say that I do not dream! I am awake; This is the Gypsy camp; this is Victorian, And this his friend, Hypolito! Speak! speak! Let me not wake and find it all a dream! Vict. It is a dream, sweet child! a waking dream, A blissful certainty, a vision bright Of that rare happiness, which even on earth rich, Now art thou As thou wast ever beautiful and good; And I am now the beggar. Prec. (giving him her hand). I have still A hand to give. Chispa (aside). And I have two to take. I've heard my grandmother say, that Heaven gives almonds To those who have no teeth. That's nuts to crack. I've teeth to spare, but where shall I find almonds? Monk. A long way to breakfast. Shep. Ay, marry. Monk. Are there robbers in these mountains? Shep. Yes, and worse than that. Monk. What? Shop. Wolves. Monk. Santa Maria! Come with me to San Ildefonso, and thou shalt be well rewarded. Shep. What wilt thou give me? Monk. An Agnus Dei and my benediction. (They disappear. A mounted Contrabandista passes, wrapped in his cloak, and a gun at his saddle-bow. He goes down the pass singing. SONG. Worn with speed is my good steed, With the white star in thy forehead! Ay, jaléo! They cross our track. (Song dies away. Enter PRECIOsa, on horseback, attended by VICTORIAN, HYPOLITO, DON CARLOS, and CHISPA, on foot, and armed.) Vict. This is the highest point. Here let us rest. See, Preciosa, see how all about us Blasts of adversity and frosts of fate! Kneeling, like hooded friars, the misty mountains But the first ray of sunshine that falls on thee Receive the benediction of the sun! Prec. And which way lies Segovia ? Vict. At a great distance yonder. Dost thou not see it? Prec. No. I do not see it. Melts thee to tears! O, let thy weary heart Pree. 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, Vict. The merest flaw that dents the horizon's and poor do I remain. I neither win nor lose. edge. There, yonder! Нур. IN the ancient town of Bruges, Then, with deep sonorous clangor But amid my broken slumbers And I thought how like these chimes Visions of the days departed, shadowy phantoms I beheld the Flemish weavers, with Namur and filled my brain; All the Foresters of Flanders,- mighty Baldwin Lyderick du Bucq and Cressy Philip, Guy de I beheld the pageants splendid that adorned Stately dames, like queens attended, knights who bore the Fleece of Gold. Juliers bold, Marching homeward from the bloody battle of Saw the fight at Minnewater, saw the White Saw great Artevelae victorious scale the Golden And again the whiskered Spaniard all the land And again the wild alarum sounded from the tocsin's throat; The shadow of the linden-trees Lay moving on the grass; Between them and the moving boughs, Thy dress was like the lilies. And thy heart as pure as they : I saw the branches of the trees "Sleep, sleep to-day, tormenting cares, Through the closed blinds the golden sun Like the celestial ladder seen By Jacob in his dream. And ever and anon, the wind, Turned o'er the hymn-book's fluttering leaves Long was the good man's sermon, Long was the prayer he uttered, But now, alas! the place seems changed; Part of the sunshine of the scene Though thoughts, deep-rooted in my heart, This memory brightens o'er the past, |