The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Генри Уодсуорт Лонгфелло

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СКАЧАТЬ Gypsies (at the forge sing).

      On the top of a mountain I stand,

      With a crown of red gold in my hand,

      Wild Moors come trooping over the lea

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

      O 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,

       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.

       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.)

      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?

       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

      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,

      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!

      (BARTOLOME rushes in.)

      Bart. Ho! Preciosa!

       Prec. O Bartolome!

      Thou here?

       Bart. Lo! I am here.

       Prec. Whence comest thou?

       Bart. From the rough ridges of the wild Sierra,

      From caverns in the rocks, from hunger, thirst,

      And fever! Like a wild wolf to the sheepfold.

      Come I for thee, my lamb.

       Prec. O touch me not!

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

      The Count of Lara's curse is on thy soul!

      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.

      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.

       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.

      I'm thine no longer.

       Bart. O, 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.

      I'm hunted from the kingdom, 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.

      I СКАЧАТЬ