They glare from the abyss;
They cry, from unknown graves, "We are the Witnesses!
THE QUADROON GIRL
The Slaver in the broad lagoon Lay moored with idle sail;He waited for the rising moon, And for the evening gale.
Under the shore his boat was tied, And all her listless crew Watched the gray alligator slide Into the still bayou.
Odors of orange-flowers, and spice, Reached them from time to time, Like airs that breathe from Paradise Upon a world of crime.
The Planter, under his roof of thatch, Smoked thoughtfully and slow;The Slaver's thumb was on the latch, He seemed in haste to go.
He said, "My ship at anchor rides In yonder broad lagoon;I only wait the evening tides, And the rising of the moon.
Before them, with her face upraised, In timid attitude, Like one half curious, half amazed, A Quadroon maiden stood.
Her eyes were large, and full of light, Her arms and neck were bare;No garment she wore save a kirtle bright, And her own long, raven hair.
And on her lips there played a smile As holy, meek, and faint, As lights in some cathedral aisle The features of a saint.
"The soil is barren,--the farm is old";
The thoughtful planter said;
Then looked upon the Slaver's gold, And then upon the maid.
His heart within him was at strife With such accursed gains:
For he knew whose passions gave her life, Whose blood ran in her veins.
But the voice of nature was too weak;
He took the glittering gold!
Then pale as death grew the maiden's cheek, Her hands as icy cold.
The Slaver led her from the door, He led her by the hand, To be his slave and paramour In a strange and distant land!
THE WARNING
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.
*******************
THE SPANISH STUDENT
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
VICTORIAN
HYPOLITOStudents 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 CRESPOAlcalde.
PANCHO Alguacil.
FRANCISCO Lara's Servant.
CHISPA Victorian's Servant.
BALTASARInnkeeper.
PRECIOSAA Gypsy Girl.
ANGELICAA poor Girl.
MARTINA The Padre Cura's Niece.
DOLORES Preciosa's Maid.
Gypsies, Musicians, etc.
ACT I.
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 Of inconsiderate youth, is to be held A model for her virtue?
Don C.You forget She is a Gypsy girl.
Lara.And therefore won The easier.
Don C.Nay, not to be won at all!
The only virtue that a Gypsy prizes Is chastity.That is her only virtue.
Dearer than life she holds it.I remember A Gypsy woman, a vile, shameless bawd, Whose craft was to betray the young and fair;And yet this woman was above all bribes.
And when a noble lord, touched by her beauty, The wild and wizard beauty of her race, Offered her gold to be what she made others, She turned upon him, with a look of scorn, And smote him in the face!
Lara.And does that prove That Preciosa is above suspicion?
Don C.It proves a nobleman may be repulsed When he thinks conquest easy.I believe That woman, in her deepest degradation, Holds something sacred, something undefiled, Some pledge and keepsake of her higher nature, And, like the diamond in the dark, retains Some quenchless gleam of the celestial light!
Lara.Yet Preciosa would have taken the gold.
Don C.(rising).I do not think so.
