SCENE II.—_A room in the Archbishop’s palace. The_ ARCHBISHOP _and a_

CARDINAL _seated._

_Arch._ Knowing how near it touched the public morals,

And that our age is grown corrupt and rotten

By such excesses, we have sent to Rome,

Beseeching that his Holiness would aid

In curing the gross surfeit of the time,

By seasonable stop put here in Spain

To bull-fights and lewd dances on the stage.

All this you know.

_Card._ Know and approve.

_Arch._ And further,

That, by a mandate from his Holiness,

The first have been suppressed.

_Card._ I trust for ever;

It was a cruel sport.

_Arch._ A barbarous pastime,

Disgraceful to the land that calls itself

Most Catholic and Christian.

_Card._ Yet the people

Murmur at this; and, if the public dances

Should be condemned upon too slight occasion,

Worse ills might follow than the ills we cure.

As _Panem et Circenses_ was the cry

Among the Roman populace of old,

So _Pan y Toros_ is the cry in Spain.

Hence I would act advisedly herein;

And therefore have induced your grace to see

These national dances, ere we interdict them.

[_Enter a Servant._]

_Ser._ The dancing-girl, and with her the musicians

Your grace was pleased to order, wait without.

_Arch._ Bid them come in. Now shall your eyes behold

In what angelic yet voluptuous shape

The Devil came to tempt Saint Anthony.

[_Enter_ PRECIOSA, _with a mantle thrown over her head. She advances

slowly, in a modest, half-timid attitude._]

_Card._ [_aside_]. O, what a fair and ministering

angel Was lost to Heaven when this sweet woman fell!

_Pre._ [_kneeling before the Archbishop_]. I have

obeyed the order of your grace.

If I intrude upon your better hours,

I proffer this excuse, and here beseech

Your holy benediction.

_Arch._ May God bless thee,

And lead thee to a better life. Arise.

_Card._ [_aside_]. Her acts are modest, and her words

discreet!

I did not look for this! Come hither, child.

Is thy name Preciosa?

_Pre._ Thus I am called.

_Card._ That is a Gipsy name. Who is thy father?

_Pre._ Beltran Cruzado, Count of the Calés.

_Arch._ I have a dim remembrance of that man.

He was a bold and reckless character,

A sun-burnt Ishmael!

_Card._ Dost thou remember

Thy earlier days?

_Pre._ Yes; by the Darro’s side

My childhood passed. I can remember still

The river, and the mountains capped with snow:

The villages, where, yet a little child,

I told the traveller’s fortune in the street;

The smuggler’s horse, the brigand, and the shepherd,

The march across the moor; the halt at noon;

The red fire of the evening camp, that lighted

The forest where we slept; and, farther back,

As in a dream or in some former life,

Gardens and palace walls.

_Arch._ ’Tis the Alhambra,

Under whose towers the Gipsy camp was pitched.

But the time wears; and we would see the dance.

_Pre._ Your grace shall be obeyed.

[_She lays aside her mantilla. The music of the cachuca is played, and

the dance begins. The_ ARCHBISHOP _and the_ CARDINAL _look on with

gravity and an occasional frown; then make signs to each other; and, as

the dance continues, become more and more pleased and excited; and at

length rise from their seats, throw their caps in the air, and applaud

vehemently as the scene closes_.]

The poetical works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow · 第 2 / 20 章