The Complete Poems. Генри Уодсуорт Лонгфелло

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">       First Mus. Geronimo Gil, at your service.

       Chispa. Every tub smells of the wine that is in it. Pray,

      Geronimo, is not Saturday an unpleasant day with thee?

       First Mus. Why so?

       Chispa. Because I have heard it said that Saturday is an

      unpleasant day with those who have but one shirt. Moreover, I

      have seen thee at the tavern, and if thou canst run as fast as

      thou canst drink, I should like to hunt hares with thee. What

      instrument is that?

       First Mus. An Aragonese bagpipe.

       Chispa. Pray, art thou related to the bagpiper of Bujalance,

      who asked a maravedi for playing, and ten for leaving off?

       First Mus. No, your honor.

       Chispa. I am glad of it. What other instruments have we?

       Second and Third Musicians. We play the bandurria.

       Chispa. A pleasing instrument. And thou?

       Fourth Mus. The fife.

       Chispa. I like it; it has a cheerful, soul-stirring sound,

      that soars up to my lady's window like the song of a swallow.

      And you others?

       Other Mus. We are the singers, please your honor.

       Chispa. You are too many. Do you think we are going to sing

      mass in the cathedral of Cordova? Four men can make but little

      use of one shoe, and I see not how you can all sing in one song.

      But follow me along the garden wall. That is the way my master

      climbs to the lady's window, it is by the Vicar's skirts that the

      Devil climbs into the belfry. Come, follow me, and make no

      noise.

       [Exeunt.

      SCENE III. — PRECIOSA'S chamber. She stands at the open window.

      Prec. How slowly through the lilac-scented air

      Descends the tranquil moon! Like thistle-down

      The vapory clouds float in the peaceful sky;

      And sweetly from yon hollow vaults of shade

      The nightingales breathe out their souls in song.

      And hark! what songs of love, what soul-like sounds,

      Answer them from below!

SERENADE.

       Table of Contents

      Stars of the summer night!

       Far in yon azure deeps,

      Hide, hide your golden light!

       She sleeps!

      My lady sleeps!

       Sleeps!

      Moon of the summer night!

       Far down yon western steeps,

      Sink, sink in silver light!

       She sleeps!

      My lady sleeps!

       Sleeps!

      Wind of the summer night!

       Where yonder woodbine creeps,

      Fold, fold thy pinions light!

       She sleeps!

      My lady sleeps!

       Sleeps!

      Dreams of the summer night!

       Tell her, her lover keeps

      Watch! while in slumbers light

       She sleeps

      My lady sleeps

       Sleeps!

      (Enter VICTORIAN by the balcony.)

      Vict. Poor little dove! Thou tremblest like a leaf!

       Prec. I am so frightened! 'T is for thee I tremble!

      I hate to have thee climb that wall by night!

      Did no one see thee?

       Vict. None, my love, but thou.

       Prec. 'T is very dangerous; and when thou art gone

      I chide myself for letting thee come here

      Thus stealthily by night. Where hast thou been?

      Since yesterday I have no news from thee.

       Vict. Since yesterday I have been in Alcala.

      Erelong the time will come, sweet Preciosa,

      When that dull distance shall no more divide us;

      And I no more shall scale thy wall by night

      To steal a kiss from thee, as I do now.

       Prec. An honest thief, to steal but what thou givest.

       Vict. And we shall sit together unmolested,

      And words of true love pass from tongue to tongue,

      As singing birds from one bough to another.

       Prec. That were a life to make time envious!

      I knew that thou wouldst come to me to-night.

      I saw thee at the play.

       Vict. Sweet child of air!

      Never did I behold thee so attired

      And garmented in beauty as to-night!

      What hast thou done to make thee look so fair?

       Prec. Am I not always fair?

       Vict. Ay, and so fair

      That I am jealous of all eyes that see thee,

      And wish that they were blind.

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