Henry Longfellow - The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Vict. As the hunter's horn

Doth scare the timid stag, or bark of hounds

The moor-fowl from his mate.

Prec. Pray, do not go!

Vict. I must away to Alcala to-night.

Think of me when I am away.

Prec. Fear not!

I have no thoughts that do not think of thee.

Vict. (giving her a ring).

And to remind thee of my love, take this;

A serpent, emblem of Eternity;

A ruby—say, a drop of my heart's blood.

Prec. It is an ancient saying, that the ruby

Brings gladness to the wearer, and preserves

The heart pure, and, if laid beneath the pillow,

Drives away evil dreams. But then, alas!

It was a serpent tempted Eve to sin.

Vict. What convent of barefooted Carmelites

Taught thee so much theology?

Prec. (laying her hand upon his mouth). Hush! hush!

Good night! and may all holy angels guard thee!

Vict. Good night! good night! Thou art my guardian angel!

I have no other saint than thou to pray to!

(He descends by the balcony.)

Prec. Take care, and do not hurt thee. Art thou safe?

Vict. (from the garden).

Safe as my love for thee! But art thou safe?

Others can climb a balcony by moonlight

As well as I. Pray shut thy window close;

I am jealous of the perfumed air of night

That from this garden climbs to kiss thy lips.

Prec. (throwing down her handkerchief).

Thou silly child! Take this to blind thine eyes.

It is my benison!

Vict. And brings to me

Sweet fragrance from thy lips, as the soft wind

Wafts to the out-bound mariner the breath

Of the beloved land he leaves behind.

Prec. Make not thy voyage long.

Vict. To-morrow night

Shall see me safe returned. Thou art the star

To guide me to an anchorage. Good night!

My beauteous star! My star of love, good night!

Prec. Good night!

Watchman (at a distance). Ave Maria Purissima!

Scene IV. — An inn on the road to Alcala.

BALTASAR asleep on a bench. Enter CHISPA.

Chispa. And here we are, halfway to Alcala, between cocks and

midnight. Body o' me! what an inn this is! The lights out, and

the landlord asleep. Hola! ancient Baltasar!

Bal. (waking). Here I am.

Chispa. Yes, there you are, like a one-eyed Alcalde in a town

without inhabitants. Bring a light, and let me have supper.

Bal. Where is your master?

Chispo. Do not trouble yourself about him. We have stopped a

moment to breathe 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 here?

Bal. (setting a light on the table). Stewed rabbit.

Chispa (eating). Conscience of Portalegre! Stewed kitten, you

mean!

Bal. And a pitcher of Pedro Ximenes, with a roasted pear in

it.

Chispa (drinking). Ancient Baltasar, amigo! You know how to

cry wine and sell vinegar. I tell you this is nothing but Vino

Tinto of La Mancha, with a tang of the swine-skin.

Bal. I swear to you by Saint Simon and Judas, it 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 hidalgo's

dinner, very little meat and a great deal of tablecloth.

Bal. Ha! ha! ha!

Chispa. And more noise than nuts.

Bal. Ha! ha! ha! You must have your joke, Master Chispa. But

shall I not ask Don Victorian in, to take a draught of the Pedro

Ximenes?

Chispa. No; you might as well say, "Don't-you-want-some?" to a

dead man.

Bal. Why does he go so often to Madrid?

Chispa. For the same reason that he eats no supper. He is in

love. Were you ever in love, Baltasar?

Bal. I was never out of it, good Chispa. It has been the

torment of my life.

Chispa. What! are you on fire, too, old hay-stack? Why, we

shall never be able to put you out.

Vict. (without). Chispa!

Chispa. Go to bed, Pero Grullo, for the cocks are crowing.

Vict. Ea! Chispa! Chispa!

Chispa. Ea! Senor. Come with me, ancient Baltasar, and bring

water for the horses. I will pay for the supper tomorrow.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V. — VICTORIAN'S chambers at Alcala. HYPOLITO asleep in

an arm-chair. He awakes slowly.

Hyp. I must have been asleep! ay, sound asleep!

And it was all a dream. O sleep, sweet sleep

Whatever form thou takest, thou art fair,

Holding unto our lips thy goblet filled

Out of Oblivion's well, a healing draught!

The candles have burned low; it must be late.

Where can Victorian be? Like Fray Carrillo,

The only place in which one cannot find him

Is his own cell. Here's his guitar, that seldom

Feels the caresses of its master's hand.

Open thy silent lips, sweet instrument!

And make dull midnight merry with a song.

(He plays and sings.)

Padre Francisco! Padre Francisco! 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.

(Enter VICTORIAN.)

Vict. Padre Hypolito! Padre Hypolito!

Hyp. What do you want of Padre Hypolito?

Vict. Come, shrive me straight; for, if love be a sin,

I am the greatest sinner that doth live.

I will confess the sweetest of all crimes,

A maiden wooed and won.

Hyp. The same old tale

Of the old woman in the chimney-corner,

Who, while the pot boils, says, "Come here, my child;

I'll tell thee a story of my wedding-day."

Vict. Nay, listen, for my heart is full; so full

That I must speak.

Hyp. 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 virgins of Cologne!

Vict. Nay, like the Sibyl's volumes, thou shouldst say;

Those that remained, after the six were burned,

Being held more precious than the nine together.

But listen to my tale. Dost thou remember

The Gypsy girl we saw at Cordova

Dance the Romalis in the market-place?

Hyp. Thou meanest Preciosa.

Vict. Ay, the same.

Thou knowest how her image haunted me

Long after we returned to Alcala.

She's in Madrid.

Hyp. I know it.

Vict. And I'm in love.

Hyp. And therefore in Madrid when thou shouldst be

In Alcala.

Vict. O 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, they were not meant for us.

Hyp. Alas! alas! I see thou art in love.

Love keeps the cold out better than a cloak.

It serves for food and raiment. Give a Spaniard

His mass, his olla, and his Dona Luisa—

Thou knowest the proverb. But pray tell me, lover,

How speeds thy wooing? Is the maiden coy?

Write her a song, beginning with an Ave;

Sing as the monk sang to the Virgin Mary,

Ave! cujus calcem clare

Nec centenni commendare

Sciret Seraph studio!

Vict. Pray, do not jest! This is no time for it!

I am in earnest!

Hyp. Seriously enamored?

What, ho! The Primus of great Alcala

Enamored of a Gypsy? Tell me frankly,

How meanest thou?

Vict. I mean it honestly.

Hyp. Surely thou wilt not marry her!

Vict. Why not?

Hyp. She was betrothed to one Bartolome,

If I remember rightly, a young Gypsy

Who danced with her at Cordova.

Vict. They quarrelled,

And so the matter ended.