The Complete Poems. Генри Уодсуорт Лонгфелло

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THE WARNING

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      Beware! The Israelite of old, who tore

       The lion in his path—when, poor and blind,

      He saw the blessed light of heaven no more,

       Shorn of his noble strength and forced to grind

      In prison, and at last led forth to be

      A pander to Philistine revelry—

      Upon the pillars of the temple laid

       His desperate hands, and in its overthrow

      Destroyed himself, and with him those who made

       A cruel mockery of his sightless woe;

      The poor, blind Slave, the scoff and jest of all,

      Expired, and thousands perished in the fall!

      There is a poor, blind Samson in this land,

       Shorn of his strength and bound in bonds of steel,

      Who may, in some grim revel, raise his hand,

       And shake the pillars of this Commonweal,

      Till the vast Temple of our liberties.

      A shapeless mass of wreck and rubbish lies.

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THE SPANISH STUDENT

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DRAMATIS PERSONAE

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      VICTORIAN HYPOLITO Students of Alcala.

      THE COUNT OF LARA DON CARLOS Gentlemen of Madrid.

      THE ARCHBISHOP OF TOLEDO. A CARDINAL. BELTRAN CRUZADO Count of the Gypsies. BARTOLOME ROMAN A young Gypsy. THE PADRE CURA OF GUADARRAMA. PEDRO CRESPO Alcalde. PANCHO Alguacil. FRANCISCO Lara's Servant. CHISPA Victorian's Servant. BALTASAR Innkeeper. PRECIOSA A Gypsy Girl. ANGELICA A poor Girl. MARTINA The Padre Cura's Niece. DOLORES Preciosa's Maid. Gypsies, Musicians, etc.

ACT I.

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      SCENE I.—The COUNT OF LARA'S chambers. Night. The COUNT in his

      dressing-gown, smoking and conversing with DON CARLOS.

       Lara. You were not at the play tonight, Don Carlos;

      How happened it?

       Don C. I had engagements elsewhere.

      Pray who was there?

       Lara. Why all the town and court.

      The house was crowded; and the busy fans

      Among the gayly dressed and perfumed ladies

      Fluttered like butterflies among the flowers.

      There was the Countess of Medina Celi;

      The Goblin Lady with her Phantom Lover,

      Her Lindo Don Diego; Dona Sol,

      And Dona Serafina, and her cousins.

       Don C. What was the play?

       Lara. It was a dull affair;

      One of those comedies in which you see,

      As Lope says, the history of the world

      Brought down from Genesis to the Day of Judgment.

      There were three duels fought in the first act,

      Three gentlemen receiving deadly wounds,

      Laying their hands upon their hearts, and saying,

      "O, I am dead!" a lover in a closet,

      An old hidalgo, and a gay Don Juan,

      A Dona Inez with a black mantilla,

      Followed at twilight by an unknown lover,

      Who looks intently where he knows she is not!

       Don C. Of course, the Preciosa danced to-night?

       Lara. And never better. Every footstep fell

      As lightly as a sunbeam on the water.

      I think the girl extremely beautiful.

       Don C. Almost beyond the privilege of woman!

      I saw her in the Prado yesterday.

      Her step was royal—queen-like—and her face

      As beautiful as a saint's in Paradise.

       Lara. May not a saint fall from her Paradise,

      And be no more a saint?

       Don C. Why do you ask?

       Lara. Because I have heard it said this angel fell,

      And though she is a virgin outwardly,

      Within she is a sinner; like those panels

      Of doors and altar-pieces the old monks

      Painted in convents, with the Virgin Mary

      On the outside, and on the inside Venus!

       Don C. You do her wrong; indeed, you do her wrong!

      She is as virtuous as she is fair.

       Lara. How credulous you are! Why look you, friend,

      There's not a virtuous woman in Madrid,

      In this whole city! And would you persuade me

      That a mere dancing-girl, who shows herself,

      Nightly, half naked, on the stage, for money,

      And with voluptuous motions fires the blood

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