Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Delphi Poets Series Book 13)

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Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Delphi Poets Series Book 13) Page 22

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


  Hyp. We are poor students travelling in vacation.

  You know this mark?

  (Touching the wooden spoon in his hat-band.)

  Padre C. (joyfully). Ay, know it, and have worn it.

  Pedro C. (aside). Soup-eaters! by the mass! The worst of vagrants!

  And there ‘s no law against them. Sir, your servant. [Exit. 1335

  Padre C. Your servant, Pedro Crespo.

  Hyp. Padre Cura,

  From the first moment I beheld your face,

  I said within myself, “This is the man!”

  There is a certain something in your looks,

  A certain scholar-like and studious something, — 1340

  You understand, — which cannot be mistaken;

  Which marks you as a very learned man,

  In fine, as one of us.

  Vict. (aside). What impudence!

  Hyp. As we approached, I said to my companion,

  “That is the Padre Cura; mark my words!” 1345

  Meaning your Grace. “The other man,” said I,

  “Who sits so awkwardly upon the bench,

  Must be the sacristan.”

  Padre C. Ah! said you so?

  Why, that was Pedro Crespo, the alcalde!

  Hyp. Indeed! you much astonish me! His air 1350

  Was not so full of dignity and grace

  As an alcalde’s should be.

  Padre C. That is true,

  He ‘s out of humor with some vagrant Gypsies,

  Who have their camp here in the neighborhood.

  There ‘s nothing so undignified as anger. 1355

  Hyp. The Padre Cura will excuse our boldness,

  If, from his well-known hospitality,

  We crave a lodging for the night.

  Padre C. I pray you!

  You do me honor! I am but too happy

  To have such guests beneath my humble roof. 1360

  It is not often that I have occasion

  To speak with scholars; and Emollit mores,

  Nec sinit esse feros, Cicero says.

  Hyp. ‘T is Ovid, is it not?

  Padre C. No, Cicero.

  Hyp. Your Grace is right. You are the better scholar. 1365

  Now what a dunce was I to think it Ovid!

  But hang me if it is not! (Aside.)

  Padre C. Pass this way.

  He was a very great man, was Cicero!

  Pray you, go in, go in! no ceremony. [Exeunt.

  SCENE III. — A room in the PADRE CURA’S house. Enter the PADRE and HYPOLITO.

  Padre C. So then, Señor, you come from Alcalá. 1370

  I am glad to hear it. It was there I studied.

  Hyp. And left behind an honored name, no doubt.

  How may I call your Grace?

  Padre C. Gerónimo

  De Santillana, at your Honor’s service.

  Hyp. Descended from the Marquis Santillana? 1375

  From the distinguished poet?

  Padre C. From the Marquis,

  Not from the poet.

  Hyp. Why, they were the same.

  Let me embrace you! Oh, some lucky star

  Has brought me hither! Yet once more! — once more!

  Your name is ever green in Alcalá, 1380

  And our professor, when we are unruly,

  Will shake his hoary head, and say, “Alas!

  It was not so in Santillana’s time!”

  Padre C. I did not think my name remembered there.

  Hyp. More than remembered; it is idolized. 1385

  Padre C. Of what professor speak you?

  Hyp. Timoneda.

  Padre C. I don’t remember any Timoneda.

  Hyp. A grave and sombre man, whose beetling brow

  O’erhangs the rushing current of his speech

  As rocks o’er rivers hang. Have you forgotten? 1390

  Padre C. Indeed, I have. Oh, those were pleasant days,

  Those college days! I ne’er shall see the like!

  I had not buried then so many hopes!

  I had not buried then so many friends!

  I ‘ve turned my back on what was then before me; 1395

  And the bright faces of my young companions

  Are wrinkled like my own, or are no more.

  Do you remember Cueva?

  Hyp. Cueva? Cueva?

  Padre C. Fool that I am! He was before your time.

  You ‘re a mere boy, and I am an old man. 1400

  Hyp. I should not like to try my strength with you.

  Padre C. Well, well. But I forget; you must be hungry.

  Martina! ho! Martina! ‘T is my niece.

  (Enter MARTINA.)

  Hyp. You may be proud of such a niece as that.

  I wish I had a niece. Emollit mores. (Aside.) 1405

  He was a very great man, was Cicero!

  Your servant, fair Martina.

  Mart. Servant, sir.

  Padre C. This gentleman is hungry. See thou to it.

  Let us have supper.

  Mart. ‘T will be ready soon.

  Padre C. And bring a bottle of my Valde-Peñas 1410

  Out of the cellar. Stay; I ‘ll go myself.

  Pray you, Señor, excuse me. [Exit.

  Hyp. Hist! Martina!

  One word with you. Bless me! what handsome eyes!

  To-day there have been Gypsies in the village.

  Is it not so?

  Mart. There have been Gypsies here. 1415

  Hyp. Yes, and have told your fortune.

  Mart. (embarrassed). Told my fortune?

  Hyp. Yes, yes; I know they did. Give me your hand.

  I ‘ll tell you what they said. They said, — they said,

  The shepherd boy that loved you was a clown,

  And him you should not marry. Was it not? 1420

  Mart. (surprised). How know you that?

  Hyp. Oh, I know more than that.

  What a soft, little hand! And then they said,

  A cavalier from court, handsome, and tall

  And rich, should come one day to marry you, 1425

  And you should be a lady. Was it not?

  He has arrived, the handsome cavalier.

  (Tries to kiss her. She runs off. Enter VICTORIAN, with a letter.)

  Vict. The muleteer has come.

  Hyp. So soon?

  Vict. I found him

  Sitting at supper by the tavern door,

  And, from a pitcher that he held aloft 1430

  His whole arm’s length, drinking the blood-red wine.

  Hyp. What news from Court?

  Vict. He brought this letter only. (Reads.)

  Oh, cursèd perfidy! Why did I let

  That lying tongue deceive me! Preciosa, 1435

  Sweet Preciosa! how art thou avenged!

  Hyp. What news is this, that makes thy cheek turn pale,

  And thy hand tremble?

  Vict. Oh, most infamous!

  The Count of Lara is a worthless villain!

  Hyp. That is no news, forsooth.

  Vict. He strove in vain 1440

  To steal from me the jewel of my soul,

  The love of Preciosa. Not succeeding,

  He swore to be revenged; and set on foot

  A plot to ruin her, which has succeeded.

  She has been hissed and hooted from the stage, 1445

  Her reputation stained by slanderous lies

  Too foul to speak of; and, once more a beggar,

  She roams a wanderer over God’s green earth,

  Housing with Gypsies!

  Hyp. To renew again

  The Age of Gold, and make the shepherd swains 1450

  Desperate with love, like Gasper Gil’s Diana.

  Redit et Virgo!

  Vict. Dear Hypolito,

  How have I wronged that meek, confiding heart!

  I will go seek for her; and with my tears

  Wash out the wrong I ‘ve done her!

  Hyp. Oh, beware! 1455

  Act not that folly
o’er again.

  Vict. Ay, folly,

  Delusion, madness, call it what thou wilt,

  I will confess my weakness, — I still love her!

  Still fondly love her!

  (Enter the PADRE CURA.)

  Hyp. Tell us, Padre Cura,

  Who are these Gypsies in the neighborhood? 1460

  Padre C. Beltran Cruzado and his crew.

  Vict. Kind Heaven,

  I thank thee! She is found! is found again!

  Hyp. And have they with them a pale, beautiful girl,

  Called Preciosa?

  Padre C. Ay, a pretty girl.

  The gentleman seems moved.

  Hyp. Yes, moved with hunger, 1465

  He is half famished with this long day’s journey.

  Padre C. Then, pray you, come this way. The supper waits. [Exeunt.

  SCENE IV. — A post-house on the road to Segovia, not far from the village of Guadarrama. Enter CHISPA, cracking a whip, and singing the cachucha.

  Chispa. Halloo! Don Fulano! Let us have horses, and quickly. Alas, poor Chispa! what a dog’s life dost thou lead! I thought, when I left my old master Victorian, the student, to serve my new master Don Carlos, the gentleman, that I, too, should lead the life of a gentleman; should go to bed early, and get up late. For when the abbot plays cards, what can you expect of the friars? But, in running away from the thunder, I have run into the lightning. Here I am in hot chase after my master and his Gypsy girl. And a good beginning of the week it is, as he said who was hanged on Monday morning.

  (Enter DON CARLOS.)

  Don C. Are not the horses ready yet?

  Chispa. I should think not, for the hostler seems to be asleep. Ho! within there! Horses! horses! horses! (He knocks at the gate with his whip, and enter MOSQUITO, putting on his jacket.) 1470

  Mosq. Pray, have a little patience. I ‘m not a musket.

  Chispa. Health and pistareens! I ‘m glad to see you come on dancing, padre! Pray, what ‘s the news?

  Mosq. You cannot have fresh horses; because there are none.

  Chispa. Cachiporra! Throw that bone to another dog. Do I look like your aunt?

  Mosq. No; she has a beard. 1475

  Chispa. Go to! go to!

  Mosq. Are you from Madrid?

  Chispa. Yes; and going to Estramadura. Get us horses.

  Mosq. What ‘s the news at Court?

  Chispa. Why, the latest news is, that I am going to set up a coach, and I have already bought the whip.

  (Strikes him round the legs.) 1480

  Mosq. Oh! oh! you hurt me!

  Don C. Enough of this folly. Let us have horses. (Gives money to MOSQUITO.) It is almost dark; and we are in haste. But tell me, has a band of Gypsies passed this way of late?

  Mosq. Yes; and they are still in the neighborhood.

  Don C. And where?

  Mosq. Across the fields yonder, in the woods near Guadarrama. [Exit. 1485

  Don C. Now this is lucky. We will visit the Gypsy camp.

  Chispa. Are you not afraid of the evil eye? Have you a stag’s horn with you?

  Don C. Fear not. We will pass the night at the village.

  Chispa. And sleep like the Squires of Hernan Daza, nine under one blanket.

  Don C. I hope we may find the Preciosa among them. 1490

  Chispa. Among the Squires?

  Don C. No; among the Gypsies, block-head!

  Chispa. I hope we may; for we are giving ourselves trouble enough on her account. Don’t you think so? However, there is no catching trout without wetting one’s trousers. Yonder come the horses. [Exeunt.

  SCENE V. — The Gypsy camp in the forest. Night. Gypsies working at a forge. Others playing cards by the firelight.

  Gypsies (at the forge sing).

  On the top of a mountain I stand,

  With a crown of red gold in my hand, 1495

  Wild Moors come trooping over the lea,

  Oh how from their fury shall I flee, flee, flee?

  Oh how from their fury shall I flee?

  First Gypsy (playing). Down with your John-Dorados, my pigeon. Down with your John-Dorados, and let us make an end.

  Gypsies (at the forge sing).

  Loud sang the Spanish cavalier, 1500

  And thus his ditty ran;

  God send the Gypsy lassie here,

  And not the Gypsy man.

  First Gypsy (playing). There you are in your morocco!

  Second Gypsy. One more game. The Alcalde’s doves against the Padre Cura’s new moon. 1505

  First Gypsy. Have at you, Chirelin.

  Gypsies (at the forge sing).

  At midnight, when the moon began

  To show her silver flame,

  There came to him no Gypsy man,

  The Gypsy lassie came.

  (Enter BELTRAN CRUZADO.) 1510

  Cruz. Come hither, Murcigalleros and Rastilleros; leave work, leave play; listen to your orders for the night. (Speaking to the right.) You will get you to the village, mark you, by the stone cross.

  Gypsies. Ay!

  Cruz. (to the left). And you, by the pole with the hermit’s head upon it.

  Gypsies. Ay!

  Cruz. As soon as you see the planets are out, in with you, and be busy with the ten commandments, under the sly, and Saint Martin asleep. D’ ye hear? 1515

  Gypsies. Ay!

  Cruz. Keep your lanterns open, and, if you see a goblin or a papagayo, take to your trampers. Vineyards and Dancing John is the word. Am I comprehended?

  Gypsies. Ay! ay!

  Cruz. Away, then!

  (Exeunt severally. CRUZADO walks up the stage, and disappears among the trees. Enter PRECIOSA.)

  Prec. How strangely gleams through the gigantic trees, 1520

  The red light of the forge! Wild, beckoning shadows

  Stalk through the forest, ever and anon

  Rising and bending with the flickering flame,

  Then flitting into darkness! So within me

  Strange hopes and fears do beckon to each other, 1525

  My brightest hopes giving dark fears a being

  As the light does the shadow. Woe is me!

  How still it is about me, and how lonely!

  (BARTOLOMÉ rushes in.)

  Bart. Ho! Preciosa!

  Prec. O Bartolomé!

  Thou here?

  Bart. Lo! I am here.

  Prec. Whence comest thou?

  Bart. From the rough ridges of the wild Sierra, 1530

  From caverns in the rocks, from hunger thirst,

  And fever! Like a wild wolf to the sheep-fold

  Come I for thee my lamb.

  Prec. Oh, touch me not!

  The Count of Lara’s blood is on thy hands!

  The Count of Lara’s curse is on thy soul! 1535

  Do not come near me! Pray, begone from here!

  Thou art in danger! They have set a price

  Upon thy head!

  Bart. Ay, and I ‘ve wandered long

  Among the mountains; and for many days

  Have seen no human face, save the rough swineherd’s. 1540

  The wind and rain have been my sole companions.

  I shouted to them from the rocks thy name,

  And the loud echo sent it back to me,

  Till I grew mad. I could not stay from thee,

  And I am here! Betray me, if thou wilt. 1545

  Prec. Betray thee? I betray thee?

  Bart. Preciosa!

  I come for thee! for thee I thus brave death!

  Fly with me o’er the borders of this realm!

  Fly with me!

  Prec. Speak of that no more. I cannot. 1550

  I ‘m thine no longer.

  Bart. Oh, recall the time

  When we were children! how we played together,

  How we grew up together; how we plighted

  Our hearts unto each other, even in childhood!

  Fulfil thy promise, for the hour has come. 1555

  I ‘m hunted from the kingdo
m, like a wolf!

  Fulfil thy promise.

  Prec. ‘T was my father’s promise,

  Not mine. I never gave my heart to thee,

  Nor promised thee my hand!

  Bart. False tongue of woman!

  And heart more false!

  Prec. Nay, listen unto me. 1560

  I will speak frankly. I have never loved thee;

  I cannot love thee. This is not my fault,

  It is my destiny. Thou art a man

  Restless and violent. What wouldst thou with me,

  A feeble girl, who have not long to live, 1565

  Whose heart is broken? Seek another wife,

  Better than I, and fairer; and let not

  Thy rash and headlong moods estrange her from thee.

  Thou art unhappy in this hopeless passion.

  I never sought thy love; never did aught 1570

  To make thee love me. Yet I pity thee,

 

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