Генри Уодсуорт Лонгфелло

The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


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with his infernal serenade! Hark!

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      Good night! Good night, beloved!

       I come to watch o'er thee!

      To be near thee—to be near thee,

       Alone is peace for me.

      Thine eyes are stars of morning,

       Thy lips are crimson flowers!

      Good night! Good night beloved,

       While I count the weary hours.

       Cruz. They are not coming this way.

       Bart. Wait, they begin again.

      SONG (coming nearer).

      Ah! thou moon that shinest

       Argent-clear above!

      All night long enlighten

       My sweet lady-love!

       Moon that shinest,

      All night long enlighten!

       Bart. Woe be to him, if he comes this way!

       Cruz. Be quiet, they are passing down the street.

      SONG (dying away).

      The nuns in the cloister

       Sang to each other;

      For so many sisters

       Is there not one brother!

      Ay, for the partridge, mother!

      The cat has run away with the partridge!

       Puss! puss! puss!

       Bart. Follow that! follow that!

      Come with me. Puss! puss!

      (Exeunt. On the opposite side enter the COUNT OF LARA and

      gentlemen, with FRANCISCO.)

       Lara. The gate is fast. Over the wall, Francisco,

      And draw the bolt. There, so, and so, and over.

      Now, gentlemen, come in, and help me scale

      Yon balcony. How now? Her light still burns.

      Move warily. Make fast the gate, Francisco.

      (Exeunt. Re-enter CRUZADO and BARTOLOME.)

      Bart. They went in at the gate. Hark! I hear them in the

      garden. (Tries the gate.) Bolted again! Vive Cristo! Follow me

      over the wall.

      (They climb the wall.)

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      an armchair, in an undress. DOLORES watching her.

      Dol. She sleeps at last!

      (Opens the window, and listens.)

      All silent in the street,

      And in the garden. Hark!

       Prec. (in her sleep). I must go hence!

      Give me my cloak!

       Dol. He comes! I hear his footsteps.

       Prec. Go tell them that I cannot dance to-night;

      I am too ill! Look at me! See the fever

      That burns upon my cheek! I must go hence.

      I am too weak to dance.

      (Signal from the garden.)

      Dol. (from the window). Who's there?

       Voice (from below). A friend.

       Dol. I will undo the door. Wait till I come.

       Prec. I must go hence. I pray you do not harm me!

      Shame! shame! to treat a feeble woman thus!

      Be you but kind, I will do all things for you.

      I'm ready now—give me my castanets.

      Where is Victorian? Oh, those hateful lamps!

      They glare upon me like an evil eye.

      I cannot stay. Hark! how they mock at me!

      They hiss at me like serpents! Save me! save me!

      (She wakes.)

      How late is it, Dolores?

      Dol. It is midnight.

       Prec. We must be patient. Smooth this pillow for me.

      (She sleeps again. Noise from the garden, and voices.)

      Voice. Muera!

       Another Voice. O villains! villains!

       Lara. So! have at you!

       Voice. Take that!

       Lara. O, I am wounded!

       Dol. (shutting the window). Jesu Maria!

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      SCENE I. — A cross-road through a wood. In the background a distant village spire. VICTORIAN and HYPOLITO, as travelling students, with guitars, sitting under the trees. HYPOLITO plays and sings.

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      Ah, Love!

      Perjured, false, treacherous Love!

       Enemy

      Of all that mankind may not rue!

       Most untrue

      To him who keeps most faith with thee.

       Woe is me!

      The falcon has the eyes of the dove.

       Ah, Love!

      Perjured, false, treacherous Love!

       Vict. Yes, Love is ever busy with his shuttle,

      Is ever weaving into life's dull warp

      Bright, gorgeous flowers and scenes Arcadian;

      Hanging our gloomy prison-house about

      With tapestries, that make its walls dilate

      In never-ending vistas of delight.

       Hyp. Thinking to walk in those Arcadian pastures,

      Thou hast run thy noble head against the wall.

      SONG (continued).

      Thy deceits

      Give us clearly to comprehend,

       Whither tend

      All thy pleasures, all thy sweets!

       They are cheats,

      Thorns below and flowers above.

       Ah, Love!

      Perjured, false, treacherous Love!

       Vict. A very pretty song. I thank thee for it.

       Hyp. It suits thy case.

       Vict. Indeed, I think it does.

      What wise man wrote it?