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 (ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 
 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO 
 Printed by Francis & Valentine, 517 Clay Street. 
 
 
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 Entered according' to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, in the 
 office of Librarian, at Washington, D. C. 
 
NOTE. 
 
 The poem which opens this volume was conceived and 
 begun during a trip made by the author through the pic- 
 turesque County of Sonoma, last spring. The measure at 
 first adopted was the " ottava-rima " of the Italians, but it 
 was subsequently discarded, as being less suitable to the 
 simplicity of the subject than blank verse. 
 
 For the general drift of Calderon I am indebted to a 
 novelette by Bulwer Lytton, though most of the incidents, 
 situations, and characters are strictly of my own inven- 
 tion. 
 
 C. 
 
 San Francisco, October 7th, 1876. 
 
MADKONA. 
 
 A valley smiles amid Sonoma's hills ; 
 
 And in this valley many years ago 
 
 Brian Fitzhubert, a woodcutter, dwelt, 
 
 "With few neighbors in all the country 'round 
 
 Save those of his own burly class and kind. 
 
 Mighty he was in stature and uncouth ; 
 
 His skin was tawny from the glare of suns ; 
 
 Hair, long and crimpled, overspread his front, 
 
 And blended downwards, with a bristling beard, 
 
 That fleeced his threatening visage to the eyes. 
 
 Though terrible and awful to behold, 
 
 A fitting shape, withal, was his to frame 
 
 The inner spirit ; for he was never known 
 
 To do a good or gentle thing soe'er ; 
 
 And was unduly giv'n to loud words, 
 
 And woful swearing of unseemly oaths, 
 
 And to all sorts of revelry that fell 
 
MADRONA. 
 
 So wild and blustering on the ear of night, 
 Whoever passed his cabin in a rouse, 
 Made brisk his step to shun the fearful spot, 
 . Murmuring, as he fled, a fluttering prayer. 
 
 And Brian had a daughter, whom a wife 
 Now many a long blessed year at rest, 
 Had called Madrona, from the purple tree 
 That bloomed so beautifully 'mid the hills 
 Wheie she was born. But he, alas ! was one 
 In no wise fit to take a mother's place ; 
 For he had no more conscience nor respect 
 For the exquisite fancies of her soul, 
 Than an ox, surfeiting a grovelling sense, 
 Shows for the tender flow'rets of the field, 
 He bruises neath his hoofs. And so the maid, 
 Mid cruel frowns, and curses, and harsh words, 
 Growing from infancy to thoughtful years, 
 Had early learned to dread her father's face, 
 And coin artful devices to excuse 
 Her presence in the house when he was there. 
 But, even when his toil called him away, 
 
MADRONA. 
 
 And she could pass her threshold without fear, 
 
 She had no love nor liking for her home ; 
 
 For the low ceilings, and the knotty walls, 
 
 Grim with the. vapors of a thousand pipes ; 
 
 The loathsome quid frequent upon the floors, 
 
 Mid its repulsive pools ; the sickly air, 
 
 Like the fell exhalation of 'a marsh, 
 
 That linger'd over every last debauch — 
 
 "Were all, to her, memorials of tears 
 
 And bitter thoughts. So, she had come to love 
 
 The open and uncircum scribed air, 
 
 And wondered why man, seemingly perverse, 
 
 Reared himself dingy piles of logs and stone, 
 
 As to shut out the splendor of the sun, 
 
 The starry constellations of the night, 
 
 And all the greenery of field and grove 
 
 What time the seasons, with their fruitful showers, 
 
 Deck them in blissful smiles. It was her wont, 
 
 Accompanied by a young and sportive fawn 
 
 Herself had caught and tamed unto her will, 
 
 To pass whole days together in the woods; 
 
 Where, lack the sympathy of kindred souls, 
 
10 MADE ON A. 
 
 She would make friends among the gentle tribes 
 That dwell in their green coverts ; for, in sooth, 
 They seemed to know the little daisy hand 
 Which often threw them crumbs and grains of corn, 
 Could never wield the shrill-resounding gun, 
 Nor stain its beauty in their harmless blood. 
 
 There was one spot that, more than all, she loved — 
 
 Down in a narrowing canyon, far below 
 
 The mountains' hazy tops. The royal oak, 
 
 The manzanita, and the balsam-fir, 
 
 Clustering here together, cast deep shadows 
 
 Over a brook that, thro' all seasons, tripped 
 
 In airy numbers o'er the slippery stones, 
 
 Polished to gold with its eternal flow. 
 
 Here, on these banks, her fawn reclining nigh, 
 
 She would pass hour on hour of her yourig life, 
 
 Her small bare feet deep in the glassy stream, 
 
 Dandling mid shoals of silver-mottled trout 
 
 Not fearful of the view ; or weaving crowns 
 
 From purple azaleas or green leaves, 
 
 Wherewith to deck herself or pretty fawn : 
 
MAD RON A. 11 
 
 Or playing musically on a lute, 
 
 The gift of an old huntsman once she loved, 
 
 Till the air grew so ravishingly sweet 
 
 The robins and the mocking-birds would pause 
 
 In their wild carols ; while from dripping banks 
 
 And weedy caverns by the rushing flood, 
 
 The speckled water-lizards, stealing up, 
 
 Would into circles creep around her, and 
 
 With an astonished glitter in their eyes, 
 
 Listen in rapture to the lulling sounds. 
 
 So lived Madrona, till one joyous morn 
 Awakening, she found the flowery chain 
 That linked the fairy present with her past 
 Had lengthened by another blossom more, 
 And she was seventeen. The sun was up, 
 Warming the dew-drops into snowy steam, 
 And she sprung from her couch, light as a lark 
 From his nest in the clover ; and her soul 
 Was moved with ecstacies before unknown. 
 Calling her fawn, that nimbly-bounding came, 
 She skipped down by the orchard to a path 
 
12 MAD RON A. 
 
 That led thro' many a chasm, weird and green, 
 
 To her old haunts beneath the dreamy trees, 
 
 Far up the stream. There she did come ere long, 
 
 And like a Dryad, in iEolian dells, 
 
 Was seeking a spot lovely for repose, 
 
 When, lo, confronting, from a cool retreat, 
 
 A lithe youth issued, armed as for the chase, 
 
 And clad in glossy velvet, that did seem 
 
 To shimmer in the sunbeams filtering thro' 
 
 The clustering leaves. She gazed as in a dream ; 
 
 For he excelled all she had known of man, 
 
 So different from her father and the crew 
 
 He brought with him to riot in the house. 
 
 For his eyes were as shining agate stones, 
 
 Set in a countenance as pure as hers, 
 
 And smoother than the porphyry of the hills ; 
 
 Whilst all his shape was moulded with a grace 
 
 More pleasing than that of the mountain deer 
 
 Descending in the early glow of dawn 
 
 To drink from the pure waters of a brook. 
 
MADRON A. 13 
 
 He was a marvel verily to her, 
 And so impressive to her simple sense, 
 She turned from him confused away, as one 
 Accustomed only to the stars of night 
 Turns from the sudden and the blinding gleam, 
 A comet or some fiery meteor shoots 
 Through the pure ether of a summer's eve, 
 O'er the blue heavens. Seeing all these things, 
 And wondering equally or more than she, 
 The youth drew nearer unto where she stood, 
 And, with much gentle counsel not to fear, 
 He told her that his name was Werner Mayne, 
 And from the city he had only come, 
 To pass a month or so amid those hills, 
 Where, roughing it in good old frontier style, 
 He might recover something of the health 
 He had unwisely wasted while at home, 
 Over unruly laws and weary codes. 
 This was his only purpose in the place, 
 And, as he spoke in honor, he did hope 
 She would believe in him, and fear no more. 
 
14 MAD HON A. 
 
 As the young rose bends to the swaying breeze, 
 
 Her head gracefully at his words inclined ; 
 
 And when, from the bright heav'n of her cheek, 
 
 The first discoloring cloud of maiden shame 
 
 Dissolved, thus amiably she made reply : 
 
 " The oriole that sings such tender songs 
 
 Hath not the talons of the merle to wound ; 
 
 And so I think that those who speak like you 
 
 Have not the nature to do others harm. 
 
 So, with your honest truth am I assured, 
 
 I pray, while you may tarry in this land, 
 
 That at my father's you will come and dwell ; 
 
 For sure 'tis perilous for one like you, 
 
 Used to the city and its homely ways, 
 
 To sleep out in these mountain wilds at night, 
 
 Exposed to the chili vapors of the sea, 
 
 That even, after the most burning day, 
 
 Blow in the evening over yonder heights, 
 
 And mantle all creation in a chill 
 
 And dripping pall. Oh, sir, be counselled then ! 
 
 Nor, by ungentle opposition, dare 
 
 The damp, contagious humors of the night, 
 
MADRON A. 15 
 
 "When you may claim the shelter of a roof, 
 That, lowly as it may appear, will prove 
 Warm enough to protect you from the cold." 
 
 Now, the strange spirit of the forest maid, 
 Had thrown already an enchanted spell 
 Around his being, and he felt his life 
 Would henceforth be a memory and sigh, 
 If passed where she was not. So he inclined 
 Before the morning star of his new dream, 
 And followed where she led him by a way 
 Through groves of laurel ; and from time to time 
 Some thorny reed occurring, he did note 
 Her caution lest recoiling it should smite 
 With woful spring his undefended cheek. 
 Then in his conscience he did bless her, as 
 Of gentle heart ; for we may ever know 
 The true soul by those little deeds of love 
 That it puts forth unconsciously, like flowers. 
 
 And now also, with more attentive eye, 
 He sought to explore at fair vantage, all 
 
16 MADKONA. 
 
 The mysteries which adorned her faultless form. 
 
 First he admired the locks that richly fell 
 
 In sunny clusters ; then the mellow charms 
 
 That o'er her neck and wavy bosom shone 
 
 Like blossoms upon sprays of elder, ere 
 
 They berry in the spring ; and in such joy 
 
 The vision did involve his wondering soul, 
 
 He, duly, for a moment, thought himself 
 
 Amid those far-off happy days of old, 
 
 Where by enchanted grove or running stream 
 
 The eyes of mortals might, undazzled, view 
 
 The beauties of heav'n. So they passed on their way, 
 
 Either, in fancy, dwelling on the other, 
 
 Till they came where the little cottage stood, 
 
 Girdled around with almond trees and vines, 
 
 That bloomed down to the margin of a brook, 
 
 And sweetened all the glassy summer air 
 
 With snowy blossoms or with golden fruit. 
 
 But now the sun was burning far past noon ; 
 The drowsy sheep were huddled here and there 
 Along the cedar hedges ; the playful birds 
 
MADEONA. 17 
 
 "Were silent in their cooling clells of gre$n, 
 
 And katydids and crickets only sung 
 
 In the warm air. So for the sweltering glow 
 
 That weighed more heavily where more confined, 
 
 The youth and maiden entered not the house, 
 
 But sat down, overwearied, on two stones 
 
 In the canopied shadows of an elm, 
 
 Growing before the door. And many things 
 
 Werner said to the guileless maiden here, 
 
 To please her fancy or to while the time : 
 
 But she, indifferent, would only fall 
 
 Into long and abstract gazes of him, 
 
 Listless of all he said. And when a glance, 
 
 From time, wondering from his eyes, 
 
 Shot through a sudden silence into hers, 
 
 She would look hastily away and blush, 
 
 Or with a pretty quiver in her voice 
 
 Venture forth little nothings to some word 
 
 That she, perchance, half listening, had last caught. 
 
 Now he, like others of his passionate years, 
 Had many fond affections in his time, 
 
18 MADRON A. 
 
 And knew how warier maidens, though demure, 
 May tell o' phantasies they would have known, 
 By the sly favor of a dreamy eye, 
 The careless pressure of a lily hand, 
 The pursing of sweet, solitary lips 
 Into unmated kisses ; 01* the sigh 
 That, like a zephyr, breathing o'er a stream, 
 Chafes the soft bosom into wistful heaves. 
 Used only to remembrances like these, 
 He marveled at the maiden's simple ways, 
 Nothing suspecting, and yet weirdly pleased ; 
 As one oft passing from a marshy fold, 
 Where he hath lost the jewel of his days, 
 Mid sickly meteors and unholy airs, 
 Marvels at the pure radiance of the stars, 
 Or the strange sweetness of the vernal breeze. 
 So hours rolled onward, and the maiden's soul 
 Was growing more familiar with its dream, 
 When, interrupting, down a steep incline, 
 She saw her father coming from the woods, 
 Cursing and muttering, as unto himself, 
 At something which had worried him, beyond. 
 
MADRON A. 19 
 
 Then, fearing, lest in his intemperate mood, 
 He might, ere knowing all, and unadvised, 
 Let fall some word displeasing to her guest, 
 She ran before to meet him where he came, 
 And, circling his swarth neck in her white arms, 
 With many kisses, and the words between, 
 Told him the story of the wandering youth, 
 And begged him, tenderly, not to say nay 
 To the kind welcome she had proffered him. 
 Still, he, perverse, had listened to her not ; 
 But that, soon nearing Werner, he espied 
 A costly diamond shining in his tie ; 
 Amcl peering from his wallet, half agape, 
 A roll of golden twenties — such as, once 
 Visiting a far vineyard to the south, 
 He, with unrighteous glances, had beheld 
 In the hands of a foreman, as he paid 
 The vintagers — eagerly pressing 'round — 
 The just returns of their laborious week. 
 Noting these things, his disposition grew 
 Kind unto Werner ; and, a brawny hand 
 Extending, he addressed him warmly thus : 
 
20 MADRONA. 
 
 " Young stranger, you are welcome 'neath our roof 
 "Whilst it may suit your pleasure or your will 
 To make your stay with us ; and then," said he, 
 
 "If to the hunt or fishing you incline, 
 This wilful girl can teach you where to find 
 The best of either in these parts around ; 
 For, with the things that dwell in wood and stream, 
 She passes more of her time than with me." 
 
 So Werner, with Fitzhubert, came to pass 
 The summer season ; and Madrona, like 
 A splendent light, set in an humble lamp, 
 Soon made the cotter's poor and homely lodge 
 Dearer far to his fancy than it were 
 A palace walled with alabaster 'round, 
 And roofed with gold. Ah, verily she was 
 A charm ineffable unto his soul ! 
 "With early morning at the outer gate, 
 Down by the running brook would she attend 
 His coming, to act as his willing guide 
 For the day's hunting in the leafy woods. 
 There, it would be the pleasure of her heart, 
 
MADROJSTA. 21 
 
 To teach him how to climb opposing steeps ; 
 
 To leap o'er seething torrents ; to preserve 
 
 The faint or wandering trail thro' springing weeds ; 
 
 To call with curious cries the plumed quail, 
 
 Or fearful ring-doves ; from protecting shoals 
 
 To lure the sly trout with the writhing hook 
 
 Whisked o'er the silver ripples like a fly ; 
 
 Or from the canyon's early prints to trace 
 
 The nimble deer through chapparel and furze 
 
 To his high mountain haunts — and all such things 
 
 As it behooves the woodman's art to know. 
 
 And when her lessons for the day were o'er, 
 Then would she lead him to some bowery shade, 
 Where, on a carpet of green grass and ferns, 
 She would prepare for him a rustic meal 
 Of berries and wild honey. And as his soul 
 Warmed at the simple banquet, she would mock 
 The merry voices of the gurgling brooks, 
 With low bewildering music ; or to charm 
 With woodland visions his insatiate eyes, 
 Show him, through leafy crannies in the trees, 
 
22 MADRONA. 
 
 The spry gray squirrel, haunched on some high limb, 
 Cracking his hazels ; or as earnest by 
 Woodpeckers, crimson-crested, or blue jays, 
 Cribbling the soft bark with their noisy bills ; 
 Or upward higher fluttering to and fro, 
 Yellow and golden butterflies and moths, 
 Like winged flow'rs sowing the fields of air 
 With vernal colors. And amid such scenes, 
 Often beholden in this happy land, 
 Would she sing to him songs of other days, 
 When her forefathers lived in ruder climes, 
 And 'round their doors in nightly concert heard 
 Hideous bears ; or, rosy morning come, 
 Looked forth on troops of buffalo and deer, 
 Browsing amid their ripening corn like sheep : 
 When the wide forest, circling close around 
 Their little cabins, swarmed with horrid foes, 
 Like water- weeds with vipers; and they groaned 
 Or sicken'd often 'neath some festering wound 
 Wrought by the poisoned prongs of arrows, or 
 Death-darting lances ; or as oft and worse, 
 After a distant hunt, or days of toil 
 
MADRONA. 23 
 
 Spent o'er the harrow or the weary plough, 
 Or at wood-clearing, to their homes returned, 
 To find them desolate with malign fire, 
 And vaporing to heaven in thin mist. 
 
 Now when she had pleased him with her last song 
 He would in turn tell her of cities, and 
 Their many wonders. And of all he spoke ; 
 But as by long experience better known, 
 More chiefly of th' imperial western queen, 
 Between the vaster and the lesser sea, 
 Where, as enthroned upon a hundred hills, 
 She claims the golden tributes of all climes 
 The sun illumines in his daily sweep 
 Around the glowing world. Then she was moved 
 To hear that there were places far away, 
 Where houses stood together close like trees, 
 Some lowly, like her father's, and obscure, 
 But others towering nigher to the clouds 
 Than ev'n the tallest redwoods of the hills ; 
 And people were more numerous dwelling there 
 Than blackbirds flocking in the early Spring, 
 
24 MADRONA. 
 
 To settle like a vast and ominous storm 
 
 O'er fields of budding corn. Hearing such things, 
 
 She thought it were a happiness to dwell 
 
 Among so many others of her kind, 
 
 And share their busy fortunes and their joys ; 
 
 But when she heard, moreo'er, what miseries spring 
 
 From man's association and the clash 
 
 Of his unseemly passions, she would bless 
 
 The stars that cast her lines among the woods, 
 
 Where there was humbleness of heart and soul, 
 
 And pleasing concord ; and no feigned desires 
 
 Engendered, to make life a long disease. 
 
 Thus fled a season, when succeeding fast 
 Letters came unto Werner from his friends 
 Down in the city, wondering how it chanced 
 That he had overstaid his time so long ; 
 And urging him to hurry his return 
 If he would profit by a noted suit 
 That was soon to make an exciting stir 
 Before one of their courts. Now, verily, 
 He loved the forest maiden, but he thought, 
 
MADRONA. 25 
 
 That she had no tender regard for him ; 
 
 For never on occasion had a word 
 
 Or passionate glance of hers given him hope 
 
 To speak his love ; and though most gentle ev'r 
 
 In all her kindliness there nothing seemed 
 
 More than a sportive prettiness and care 
 
 To play the part of hostess, as became 
 
 Her duty, and her father's spoken will. 
 
 So being honorable, he thought it well 
 
 To hearken to the wishes of his friends, 
 
 Lest tarrying longer, he might haply lose 
 
 The principle which made her honor safe 
 
 And his own conscience pure. So one misty eve, 
 
 As they they were resting by the garden well, 
 
 Scraps of these letters unto her he read, 
 
 And with a heavy heart announced his purpose. 
 
 Then there was a cold tremor in her bosom, 
 
 A thrilling at her temples, whilst a tear 
 
 Fell like a flake of crystal from her eye 
 
 Upon her damask cheek; but it was dark, 
 
 And seeing nothing of these sorry shows, 
 
 He, with more instance, reasoned her wild heart 
 
26 MADEONA. 
 
 Could ne'er be won to sympathy and love \ 
 And moved with bitter sorrow, and displeased, 
 He spoke with her but little more that night. 
 
 But when the morning came, sowing the east 
 With early roses, the unhappy youth 
 Sought for Madrona, to bid her farewell ; 
 But her nowhere he found, until he came 
 To the vine-arbor. There, indeed, she was ; 
 Robed in a garment white as Sierra snow ; 
 Her golden hair over her shoulders clustered ; 
 A rose upon her bosom, like a star 
 Upon a panting billow ! On her hand 
 She leaned a pallid cheek, and with sad eyes 
 Looked dreamily out on the purpling fields. 
 He gazed at her, silently, as enrapt, 
 And would not move lest he should haply mar 
 So fair a picture ; but a little bird, 
 Tripping on to a limb over his head, 
 Poured forth a roundelay so loud and sweet, 
 She turned awiy, moved by the winning song, 
 And beheld Werner. Then the color rose, 
 
MADRONA. 27 
 
 And mantled all her visage, like the dawn ; 
 
 But, as it were a pain to see him there, 
 
 She, without speaking, looked from him away, 
 
 Reproachful. Then a pang went through his heart, 
 
 And near approaching and inclining low, 
 
 He took a hand unwilling into his, 
 
 And asked her, in a kind and gentle tone, 
 
 If he had given her pain in anything, 
 
 That she should prove so cold to him the hour 
 
 They were to part. Then she bent down her eyes, 
 
 And pressed a hand upon her heart and wept, 
 
 Saying, amid her weeping : " Good, my friend, 
 
 I felt unjustly towards you but now ; 
 
 For sure, I had no reason for offence, 
 
 If duties, nobler than a sojourn here 
 
 Called you away. Yet I can not but weep ! 
 
 For never, never have I passed such hours, 
 
 As your dear coming here did bring to me, 
 
 And now that you are going " — she said no more ; 
 
 For here a murmur fell from Werner's lips, 
 
 And raising her dim, dripping eyes to his, 
 
 She saw therein a madness glancing wild, 
 
28 MADRON A. 
 
 "Which seemed to bind her utterance in a strange 
 And silent spell ; and then there was a pause, 
 And each stood blended in the other's gaze ; 
 And then, though neither spoke a simple word, 
 His arm stole gently round her willowy form, 
 And her head sank tremulous on his breast, 
 Ev'n as a lily sinks upon a stream. 
 
 Ah, me, what sovereign joy that day was theirs, 
 Ajid holy ! They scarce could think they were on 
 
 earth, 
 As, wandering forth among the sunny fields, 
 Or thro' the shadowy aisles of the tall pines, 
 Or 'long the golden reaches of the brooks, 
 They dwelt in sweet communion, and their loves 
 Over and over fondly interchanged, 
 As to assure their hearts they were not dreams. 
 So passed the hours, till pleasing eventide, 
 And to the arbor they were come once more ; 
 And in its dim enclosure, hand in hand, 
 Sat, watching the faint starbeams through the leaves, 
 And speaking of grave ceremonies (once 
 
MAD RON A. 29 
 
 A mystery to the simple, unschooled maid, 
 
 But now revealed) that were to make their lives 
 
 Like two bright currents flowing far apart 
 
 Blend into one inseparable stream. 
 
 And so, in a daze of enchantment, they 
 
 Were speaking, when, the passing of a step, 
 
 Carefully measured o'er the withered leaves, 
 
 Made them pause in their sweet discourse and hold 
 
 Their ears attentive ; but the wary sound 
 
 Weakened as it stole fearfully away, 
 
 Till it was heard no more in the still night. 
 
 Then Werner, with a gaze of wonder turned 
 Towards the maiden, who with playful smiles 
 And answering assurance, whispered thus : 
 " It was only the coyote we heard ; 
 Coming forth from a thicket or his den, 
 He creeps craftily o'er the brittle leaves 
 Towards some warren or unguarded roost, 
 Making such noises. I have heard him oft', 
 And know th' insidious gliding of his feet." 
 But Werner answered : " My own, if it be thus, 
 
30 MADRONA. 
 
 I fear we Lave unduly lingered here ; 
 For it is said this prowler of the night 
 Ne'er ventures forth upon his stealthy beat, 
 Save when all honest eyes have long been closed 
 In dewy sleep. We have in truth outstaid 
 Many a starry brilliant in his watch, 
 And should, as suiting pure and seemly hours, 
 Give o'er our tender greetings till the morn. 
 Then, sooth, thy father knowing of our love, 
 "Will bless our happy bridal, and no more 
 Shall night or woful chances come between 
 Our longing souls." So, with a burning kiss 
 They bade each other a tender good night, 
 And parted : he, descending to the brook 
 To cool his fervent transports in its stream ; 
 She, going 'mongst the almond trees, to muse 
 Through many a long revery and deep 
 On all the happy blessings that sweet day 
 Had brought unto her. And she tarried there 
 Enjoying fantasy at her young will, 
 Careless of slumber till the Pleiads paled 
 Behind the distant mountains — and oh, then 
 
M A D R 1ST A. 31 
 
 That she should e'en be doomed to things so strange ! 
 A chilly air, that made her feel like death, 
 Seemed to blow and come o'er her from the west, 
 And turning with a sick and weary sense 
 Behold, right forward where the light fell pale, 
 The semblance of her own beloved stood 
 Gazing upon her ! His aspect was as snow, 
 And mournful as a willow by the flood, 
 But kind and loving. His mysterious form 
 Stood solemn in the weird haze of the moon, 
 And cast a long, dim shadow to her feet. 
 " Werner," she murmured, and faltering near, 
 Sought to enfold him to her aching heart ; 
 But through the mirage her despairing arms 
 Passed as through air impalpable, or mist 
 Curled in the cool of morning o'er the dales, 
 Or mountain cedars. Then every living thought 
 Seemed to whirl indistinct, and from her mind 
 Vanish, like sweet notes from a broken lute ; 
 And with a cry, such as doth echo oft 
 From a ghoul-haunted dell or cavern, she 
 Fell like a body that is dead to earth. 
 
32 MADRONA. 
 
 Whose bosom pillows the young maiden's head ] 
 "Whose words into her mystic slumber steal 
 And call her leaden senses to awake 
 And hail the morn ? " Sleep'st thou still, my 
 
 [daughter ? 
 The dew is on the clover and the berries ; 
 The wolf hath from the glimmering valley fled 
 To the fir mountain • your loving little fawn, 
 Losing the night-long terror of his soul, 
 Is waiting for you out upon the meadows ; 
 Blackbirds are chirping in the pines and myrtles, 
 And thy lithe oriole, in his wicker cage, 
 Is singing at thy window. It is morn, 
 The pleasant hour of sunshine and wild songs ; 
 Wake! oh, my daughter." As the words wore away, 
 Madrona from her slumbering trance awoke, 
 But, though she saw the happy light around, 
 And heard the woodbirds singing in the trees, 
 She shuddered and turned livid, and her face 
 Burying in the dim shadows of her hands, 
 Muttered convulsively through quivering lips : 
 " Oh, I must see my Werner or I die." 
 
MADRONA. 33 
 
 But, then, Fitzhubert, as that name recalled 
 
 A woful duty he would leave undone, 
 
 But must, contrary to a gentle will, 
 
 Accomplish, pressed her closer to his bosom, 
 
 In fondling recompense of all the dole 
 
 She needs must suffer listening to sad things. 
 
 " Ah, me, it was indeed a hapless hour 
 
 That we ever allowed beneath our roof 
 
 This cruel stranger. He hath spoiled your heart. 
 
 Yea, like the tulip plundered by the bee, 
 
 I fear that it will wither now to death, 
 
 And no fond feeling shall it harbor more 
 
 For father, or for kindred, or old friends, 
 
 Or any you have loved. You wonder, child 1 
 
 Know, then, that he hath left us — gone away. 
 
 Midway between the morning and the night, 
 
 He was seen to pass up the great ravine, 
 
 Where the road winds among the hoary pines 
 
 Until it ends many far leagues from here 
 
 In the great valley. So, from this day forth, 
 
 Let not a memory of him e'er cause 
 
 My ring-dove sorrow. It is a foolish thing 
 
 To weep for those who are not worth our tears." 
 
 3 
 
34 MADRONA. 
 
 Madrona heard and trembled, and by turns 
 Felt diverse tortures, as of ice and fire 
 Shoot through her veins ; and on her virgin lips 
 Awhile a fluttering malediction hung ; 
 But thinking suddenly on all the past, 
 She quailed from her misgiving as a thing 
 Too horrible for all sufferance, and so 
 Expressing fearfully in every air, 
 Made answer to her father in this wise : 
 " I must not think upon him — never more 1 
 Ah, me ! how could'st thou ever counsel this 1 
 If I lived till the world came to an end, 
 I would remember him in this poor heart ; 
 Ev'n though unfaithful, which I know him not. 
 Oh, sooner might the tuneful linnet croak 
 The raven's doleful note, than ever he 
 "Would prove guilty of treachery or untruth, 
 Answering to thy thought. Oh, no, my father ! 
 'Tis something which hath happened him this night 
 Doth stay him from me, not disloyal love ! 
 He may have tripped over some frightful cliff, 
 Or fall'n mid a troop of raging wolves, 
 
MADRONA. 35 
 
 Or been waylaid by some unlawful band, 
 
 Intent upon the shining things he wore, 
 
 And shorn of life. But, oh, whate'er his chance, 
 
 My heart must know it soon or it will break ! 
 
 And so forthwith I hasten to advise 
 
 Our justices of all my woful fears, 
 
 That they may search until the lost be found 
 
 And I may know whether to live or die I" 
 
 Saying, she looked up to her father's face, 
 That was now turbulent and wroth and pale, 
 Like a brook all afoam ; but even ere 
 She could divine or wonder at the change, 
 Thus he confounded her in ireful words : 
 " All then must end between us, since I find 
 The disguise of affection but a web, 
 That ill would serve me thro' the jarring life 
 I needs should pass with thee. Yea, it is clear 
 That between natures opposite like ours, 
 There can be neither covenant nor peace ! 
 Ever since infancy a wayward child, 
 Thou hast, by disobedience and strange airs, 
 
36 MADRONA. 
 
 Been a perplexity unto my mind, . 
 
 And a sore cross. I wondered at it often, 
 
 And how thou went not like my neighbors' girls, 
 
 Ruddy-complexioned and robustly-limbed, 
 
 "Who, at their fathers' coming home at night, 
 
 Would bring them venison or steaming loins, 
 
 And have a glass well filled and fragrant by, 
 
 To serve after the meal. Otherwise tuned, 
 
 Thou hast found joy in nothing all thy life> 
 
 Save in gamboling idly thro' the woods, 
 
 Or gaping o'er the moon and misty stars, 
 
 Or humming like a bee among the flowers, 
 
 Or other sim'lar pastimes of the sort> 
 
 Displeasing to my soul. So weary worn, 
 
 By thy contrary ways that know no end, 
 
 I deem it better far that we should part, 
 
 And with a joyful and becoming will 
 
 I leave thee to this gilded moth thou love'st, 
 
 And whom thou may'st at thy sweet pleasure find. 
 
 A gravelly ell beneath the mistletoe, 
 
 That growing down beyond the orchard wall, 
 
 Doth serve his long and dreamless slumber now, 
 
MADEONA. 37 
 
 As a memorial stone. " Nor sooner falls 
 A summer primrose blowing by a brook, 
 Beneath the fury of a shivering bolt, 
 Than young Madrona, at these blasting words, 
 Sank, as o'erwhelmed and bereft of sense, 
 Upon the glistening sward. But he, alas, 
 That was her father only by mischance, 
 Lowered like a dark and sullen storm o'er her, 
 Exultant that the malice of his tongue 
 Had sealed her lips forever on the dream 
 That, incarnate of passionate hope and love, 
 Menaced to make all his forthcoming days 
 One long and brooding fear. And when his eyes 
 Had feasted on her sufferings to their full, 
 He left her without dole or pity there; 
 And gliding downwards thro' a thorny maze, 
 He came into a wild and lonely dell 
 Amid the hollows of the shelving hills, 
 Where gathering soon into a leathern girth, 
 From under many a tuft of withered leaves, 
 The guilty fruitage of his crimson deed, 
 
38 MADRONA. 
 
 He vanished like a spectre in the woods, 
 And was heard of no more in all the land. 
 
 Now, when the sun ascending, glittered o'er 
 His golden zenith, it so came to pass 
 An humble padre, overblown with dust, 
 And weary from a sick call mid those hills, 
 Dismounted at the cotter's to procure 
 Refreshment for himself and sweltering beast. 
 So, looking for the lingering owner 'round, 
 He came into the orchard in full time, 
 And there, beneath a flowering almond, found 
 Madrona prostrate on the dewy earth, 
 And pitiable in all things to behold. 
 Nor did he tarry in a wondering pause 
 From mindful care or service at the view, 
 But raised her for'with in his willing arms 
 And bore her tenderly towards the porch 
 That was close-trellised from the glaring noon 
 With sheltering vines. And here the sultry air 
 He fanned into cool breezes o'er her face, 
 And chafed her temples kindly till the light 
 
MADRONA. 39 
 
 Returned into her crystals, and sweet reason, 
 
 Like a torch litten in a gloomy vault, 
 
 Stole once more through the shadows of the mind. 
 
 And she was living ! Yet, within herself, 
 She knew the end of all could not be far, 
 And was right joyful that it should be so ; 
 For she thought it a better thing to die 
 And be consumed by worms beneath the sod, 
 "Where she would have no feeling and no sense 
 Than to be harrassed, living, by the griefs 
 "Which preyed upon her bosom. And, moreo'er, 
 She felt through all the burning at her heart 
 A tempering solace in the kindly ear — 
 The pitying priest, urging her so to speak, 
 Lent to the harrowing story of her sorrow. 
 And when she had done, he upraised his eyes, 
 As in docile submission towards heaven, 
 And answered amid many bitter sighs. 
 
 " This world is, verily, a vale of tears ; 
 For, how it be filmed o'er with pleasures and 
 
40 MADRON A. 
 
 Glittering phantoms, it will be ev'r found 
 The ordinary heritage of man 
 Is to bear tribulations and sad trials 
 Whilst he dwells here below. But, heaven be praised ! 
 There is another and a better world, 
 Where the fire is extinguished, and the worm 
 Shall mangle the poor weary heart no n\qre." 
 " Oh ! is it true," answered Madrona, " as 
 My Werner often told me whilst he lived ; 
 There is another life beyond the grave, 
 Passed in eternal sunshine, and 'mid flow'rs 
 Which never wither ] But wherefore should I ask 1 
 Brought up so as to never know the Word, 
 His blest commandments I have never learned 
 Nor followed ; and so, in despair, must die 
 Without a hope in the sweet life to come." 
 
 "It is the will, my daughter ; it is the will 
 Doth please the Master ; for, not unto all 
 Hath it been given to perform great things 
 Nor special service ; and, if thou believ'st, 
 Thou shalt enter the glory of the Lord 
 
MADRONA. 41 
 
 As worthy and deserving as the best, 
 
 Who have toiled in the vineyard all their days." 
 
 Hearing such things, she was wholly o'ercome ; 
 
 That she, contrary to ill-boding fears, 
 
 Should not behold corruption, and would find 
 
 The dismal grave a bright and glittering gate 
 
 Into the mansions of eternal rest ; 
 
 "Where she would know her Werner once again, 
 
 And share with him, before the Living throne, 
 
 Immortal pleasures. And, when more she learned 
 
 Concerning those blest offices and forms 
 
 That, in palpable evidence, invest 
 
 The spirit and the sense of things divine, 
 
 She gratefully inclined her front beneath 
 
 The holy symbol that doth purge away 
 
 The grossness of concupiscence, and all 
 
 The leaven of first nature \ and her soul, 
 
 Consecrate in the mystic service, shone 
 
 As a rich fleece after a peerless dye 
 
 Hath made it white and glistering like snow. 
 
42 MADRONA. 
 
 But the good father, kneeling at her side, 
 
 Read over many fervent prayers for her, 
 
 Till in the purple of the setting sun, 
 
 The red cliffs of the mountains and the pines 
 
 Mantled into a dim and dreamy haze. 
 
 And nothing stirred in nature anywhere ; 
 
 Not a leaf green or withered on the trees ; 
 
 Not a blade of sere clover in the fields ; 
 
 Nothing save the unhappy maiden's bosom, 
 
 Keeping sad time, in solemn heaves and falls, 
 
 To her ebbing life. And now there came a mist 
 
 White as the wedding garment of a bride, 
 
 And stood before the beauty of the sun, 
 
 Where it began to glow with fire and pearl 
 
 And molten chrysolite and topaz stone 
 
 And radiant opals. And seeing this, the rnaicVn 
 
 Dimly intelligent in her wandering mind, 
 
 That Paradise and all its promised joys 
 
 Were opening on her, raised her snowy arms 
 
 Towards the glorious pageant of the mist 
 
 And murmuring in sweet tones, " I come ! I come!" 
 
MADRON A. 43 
 
 Breathed forth her spirit, that straightway arose 
 Like the song of a skylark towards heaven. 
 
 So passed Madrona in her spring away, 
 
 And like a sleeping lily she was borne, 
 
 To her last dwelling, on a sunny steep, 
 
 Amid the wild woods she had loved so well. 
 
 Nor was she long remembered by her kind, 
 
 For like a flow'r that blossoms 'mid the rocks, 
 
 She was too rare and wonderful a thing 
 
 To linger in the memory of those 
 
 She dwelt among. And when the holy priest 
 
 Was*cailed in time from his own trials to peace, 
 
 Ev'n the little cross, and humble mound, 
 
 That witnessed where she had been laid to rest, 
 
 Passed like the shadows of forgotten things, 
 
 After a few swift seasons from the earth : 
 
 So that in all the land where she abode, 
 
 No one can tell where young Madrona now 
 
 Sleeps from the sorrows of her ill-starred life. 
 

V 
 
CAST OF CHARACTERS. 
 
 Bon Calderon, Minister of State. 
 Martin Fonseca, a Soldier of Fortune. 
 Philip, Prince of Spain. 
 Santa Cruz. \ 
 Uzeda. J 
 
 Sandoval, \ Conspirators. 
 Carlo, 
 Lerdo, 
 
 Ricardo, a Spy- 
 Bernardo, Captain of the Guard. 
 First Guard. 
 
 First and Second Servants. 
 Isabella, Queen of Spain. 
 Beatrice. 
 Abbess, 
 
\ 
 
ACT FIRST. 
 
 Scene — A room in the royal palace — a table on R. H., 
 at which Sandoval, Lerdo and Carlo are seen playing 
 dice. Loud laughing as the curtain rises. 
 
 Ler. A brilliant move ! 
 
 Car. Nay ; an o'ersweeping charge ! 
 
 But mercy to the wounded ; try again. 
 
 San. No ; I am weary with play ; put up the dice ; 
 And lieu this waste and frolic of our time, 
 Give me the present standing of the plot 
 We formed for the downfall of Calderon, 
 Before I left Madrid. Why, think you, sirs : 
 I am two hours among you, all the while 
 Attending some instruction on this score, 
 As a free offering of friendly lips, 
 And must at last beg for it as an alms. 
 
 Car. To answer, Marquis, frankly for myself, 
 I was so much amused in robbing you 
 I could not think of other occupation. 
 
.4 CALDEROK [Act L 
 
 I hope you have not forgotten our design 
 Along with your playing 1 
 
 San. Marry, not I ! 
 
 "We were to profit by this weary mission 
 Which still delays Don Calderon from Madrid, 
 At the court of the King of Portugal, 
 And labor to attach the youthful Prince 
 Unto our party ; so that when his turn 
 Came in due order to ascend the throne, 
 We might be happily empowered through him 
 To step into Don Calderon's golden place, 
 And so encompass, without further fear, 
 His most desired death. 
 
 Car. Ay, you are right ! 
 
 Well, we have prospered beyond our best hopes : 
 We have won the Prince. 
 
 San. No ! 
 
 Car. Lerdo 1 
 
 Ler. Truly ! 
 
 San. How did you ever — 
 
 Car. O, sir, by a chance 
 
 That ne'er so timely served a want before. 
 
Act I.] CALDEROJST. 
 
 His Highness coming within mortal range 
 Of a provincial maiden, whom the Queen 
 Had lately named to lead her chapel choir, 
 "Was by the process so dangerously singed 
 That he came to us in a sort of craze, 
 And swore if we obtained that girl for him 
 We might command him ever. 
 
 San. Ah ! 
 
 Car. You may know 
 
 We did not trifle long over the price, 
 For, as obedient to the royal will, 
 Our dove was entering Madrid to-day, 
 We artfully decoyed her from her course, 
 Unto the palace of old Santa Cruz, 
 Where, at a gorgeous festival to-night, 
 We do intend, in pursuance of our bargain, 
 To yield her to the Prince. 
 
 San. In sooth 'tis strange 
 
 What mighty ends we often do attain 
 By trifling means. Our purpose is assured, 
 If Calderon return not unawares, 
 And so — 
 
 LA o^ 
 
CALDERON. [Act L 
 
 Car. [laughing.] O, the bright fancy ! Now mark well : 
 I've information more pronounced than faith — 
 Nay, so assured I'd stake my head upon't, 
 And with it the salvation of my soul, 
 Calderon can not return before a month, 
 And long ere that, you see — [Enter TTzeda, hurriedly. 
 
 TJz. 0, my good friends ! 
 
 Car. Well? 
 
 TJz. Calderon hath returned ! 
 
 Omnes [starting up.] What ! 
 
 TJz. \ I assure you ; 
 
 The fact is odious, but must be confessed : 
 These eyes of mine have looked upon the monster. 
 
 Car. Must I hear this with all my information ] 
 I never itched tow'rds suicide before. 
 Are you sure you saw him ? 
 
 TJz. O, were that all ! 
 
 But then that I should see him as it was ! 
 Hailed by the brutish bellowings of the crowd, 
 Honored by the high ringing of church bells, 
 And rained down on with the spring's fairest flowers, 
 As though he were a god ! 
 
ActL] CALDERON. 
 
 [Enter Martin Fonseca, unseen by the rest.] 
 
 San, 'Tis infamous ! 
 
 Uz. A man that once I would have thought too base 
 To groom my horse. It is a mocking shame 
 The King should elevate this hideous churl 
 To the first dignity beneath the crown, 
 Over such claims as ours ! 
 
 San, It is, indeed ; 
 
 But remember the royal life is now 
 Doubtfully hanging by a slender thread, 
 Not by a chain. 
 
 Uz. Yea, there is hope in that. 
 
 Gar. [shouts without.] Hark to that shouting. 
 
 Uz. 'Tis for Calderon. 
 
 Let us betake ourselves beyond the reach 
 Of the degrading sounds. 
 
 San, Yes, come. 
 
 [Enter the Chamberlain.'] 
 
 Chamb. Gentlemen, 
 
 The Queen commands that none of you go hence 
 Till you've assisted at the audience 
 She doth prepare to give Don Calderon. [Exit Chamb. 
 
8 CALDEKON. [Act L 
 
 Uz. [promptly.] I refuse to stay. 
 
 Gar. [stamping his foot] So do I. 
 
 Ler. And I. 
 
 Car. None of us will stay. 
 
 Omnes. No ! 
 
 Uz. Then away ! 
 
 San. Still— 
 
 Omnes. What? 
 
 San. It is the Queen's bidding. 
 
 Gar. Ay, that is true. 
 
 Ler. She would ill brook any such disrespect. 
 
 San. And that recalls that for some such offense 
 The Count Davila was, on New Year's last, 
 Condemned to prison. 
 
 Gar. And to tell the truth, 
 
 I have, Seiiors, no special love for prisons. 
 
 Ler. What say you ? 
 
 Gar. Eh, Sandoval, what? 
 
 San. Well, My Lords, 
 
 Upon the whole, I think it best to stay. 
 
 Gar. Aoid so do I. 
 
 San. Uzeda ? 
 
Act I.] C ALDER OK 
 
 TJz. Perhaps it's better. 
 
 Mar. [advancing.] So, gentlemen, you have shown the 
 Ev'n at the shadow of Don Calderon 1 [white flag, 
 
 TJz. "What mean you, sir % 
 
 Mar. Why, your conduct, me thinks, 
 
 Should answer you on that. 
 
 TJz. Who are you, pray] 
 
 Mar. A soldier, please you. 
 
 TJz. But I want your name. 
 
 Mar. Martin Fonseca. [Uzeda sneers, and ivalks away. 
 
 Car. Oh ! 'tis natural 
 
 You should make so much noise for Calderon ; 
 That worthy was your teacher on a time, 
 Ere you were disinherited by Lerma, 
 Your noble uncle — your teacher, mark you. [Laughs. 
 
 Mar. Well, then, my teacher : and what if he were 1 
 There's no dishonor in a poor estate, 
 Where one hath bettered it with noble deeds. 
 The eagle may be hatched upon a mole-hill ; 
 But when he comes into use of his wings, 
 He proudly spurns his sprawling level, and 
 Soars to the mountain top. 
 
10 CALDERON. [Actl. 
 
 Car. [mockingly.] Beyond all doubt 
 
 He used the birch but lightly on your flanks, 
 That you speak him so fair. 
 
 Mar. Nay ; it is contempt, 
 
 And not my kind remembrance of him, speaks ! 
 For sure, 'tis wormwood to a generous soul 
 To see a batch of nothings, such as you, 
 Forever carping at this lofty shoot, 
 And, powerless to fell it with the axe, 
 Would, like vile vermin, eat into its roots, 
 And slowly rot it down. [All laugh, tauntingly. 
 
 Car. Go on, Seiior ; 
 
 You understand preferment to a dot. 
 Your old schoolmaster, in return for this, 
 Is sure to make you something better than 
 A common trooper. 
 
 Mar. "Wretch ! do you presume 
 
 To spy self-interest in the honest scorn 
 I feel for such as you 1 Draw you, minion ! 
 Lest that my fury overleap itself, 
 
 And make me a penitent ever after ! [Flourish. 
 
 [Enter the Queen and her attendants.] 
 
Act LI CALDERON. 11 
 
 Queen Is. How's this ! A weapon drawn in our pres- 
 ence'? 
 
 Car. [who has skipped out of the way at Martin's ?nenace.] 
 
 It is most heinous. I beseech Your Highness 
 To call your guards, and have that tiger bound, 
 Or he'll devour us all. 
 
 Queen Is. This is, indeed, 
 
 A breach of custom not to be endured. 
 What have you to say by way of defense 
 For yourself, sir] 
 
 Mar. Simply awaiting here 
 
 To present a petition to Your Highness, 
 These people and myself did come to words ; 
 "Whereon I was so brazenly addressed, 
 'Twere out of honor at once to respect 
 And to restrain myself. 
 
 Queen Is. Pray bear in mind 
 
 Our private palace is no fencing hall, 
 To settle every frivolous dispute 
 The testy humor genders ! Away then, sir ; 
 And when you have conn'd o'er this lesson well, 
 We may hear your petition. 
 
12 CALDERON. [Act L 
 
 Mar. But, Lady — 
 
 Queen Is. Away, or we'll add to your penalty ! 
 
 Car. [bravely approaching Martin as he retires. ,] 
 
 We'll meet again ! 
 [Martin puts his hand to his hilt, Carlo starts back, the 
 
 Queen turns, when Martin boivs profoundly and Exit.] 
 
 Queen Is. [seating herself at table.] 
 
 Tis well Don Calderon's mission is at end ; 
 Since his departure nothing hath gone well, 
 And were he absent longer, we believe 
 The State would go to wreck. 
 
 Uz. Believe me, Lady, 
 
 You have as faithful servitors as he! 
 [Enter Santa Cruz. All conspirators take him by the hand 
 
 apart.] 
 
 Queen Is. We have, indeed ! Why, sir, this very 
 A young maid, destined to our special service, [morning 
 Was forcibly abducted on the streets, 
 
 [Conspirators exchange glances.] 
 And borne no one knows whither ! This were not done 
 Had Calderon been here, or had we left 
 As capable successors in his place. 
 
Act!.] CALDEROK 13 
 
 Santa C. That was a villainous deed ! 
 
 Car. Shockingly so ! 
 
 Queen Is. And, as such, we are bent it shall be punished. 
 
 Chamb. Already, Lady, 
 
 In swift anticipation of your wish, 
 I have possessed Don Calderon of this crime, 
 And have his promise to attend to it. % 
 
 Queen Is. You have done well, for now we are assured 
 [Conspirators exchange glances .] 
 We shall be fully served. Know you, Seilor, 
 "Whether his Lordship's ready to announce 
 The result of his mission ? 
 
 Chamb. He is, madam, 
 
 And doth await the pleasure of Your Highness, 
 Queen Is. Admit him. [Exit Chamberlain. 
 
 My Lord of Santa Cruz, it was yourself 
 Who went on the last embassy to Lisbon, 
 Concerning the affair of Sarmiento 1 
 
 Santa C. It was, madam. 
 
 Queen Is. And it was you, Uzeda, 
 
 Who did precede him on the self same charge ] 
 
 Uz. It was, my Queen ; and if I did not thrive 
 
14 CALDEROK [Act 1. 
 
 According to the wishes of Your Grace, 
 Consider that the King of Portugal 
 Is so perverse and obstinate in nature 
 That even Tully, were he come to life, 
 Could not persuade him to amend a wrong 
 He knowingly had done. 
 
 Santa C. I may say, madam, 
 
 That is the very reason I failed, too. 
 And I do warrant Calderon hath done 
 No better in the business than ourselves. 
 
 Queen Is. In that event, our voice shall be for war. 
 'Tis monstrous that this royal mannikin 
 Should, with such willful arrogance, reclaim 
 A fertile province, conquered from his father, 
 And to our rightful sovereignty confirmed 
 By the most august treaties. He has received 
 The last friendly advices from this throne. 
 [Enter Chamberlain, escorting Calderon, who has a roll of 
 
 'parchment in his hand, and is folloived by two lords. 
 
 He boivs.~\ 
 "Welcome, most noble Senor, back to Madrid. 
 What news bring you from haughty Portugal 1 
 
Act I] CALDEEON. 15 
 
 Is he determined still to try our patience 
 Beyond the bounds of suff 'ranee 1 
 
 Gal. Most noble Queen, 
 
 So I believe he was at first disposed ; 
 But through coy flatteries, warily pursued, 
 I wrought at last upon his stubborn will, 
 Not only to concede our rightful claims, 
 But, as indemnity for the expense 
 This lengthy variance hath cost our State, 
 To pay into the treasury of Your Grace 
 One hundred thousand marks. 
 
 Queen Is. Well done, good Senor ; 
 
 Now, for this service — 
 
 Gal. Lady, there 's something more : 
 
 Considering the scandal of the Moors 
 On the good name of any Christian land, 
 I have engaged His Highness to consent 
 Unto a treaty, by whose terms exprest, 
 These infidels are forthwith to be banished 
 From both your realms. Here is the document ; 
 It only needs your royal signature 
 To make it lawful. 
 
16 CALDEEOK [Act L 
 
 Queen Is. This is a measure 
 
 Most necessary for the general good ; 
 So we will sign — 
 
 Uz. I pray you, madam — - 
 
 Queen Is, Well 1 
 
 Uz. Reflect before you do this cruel thing. 
 The Moors are now subdued, and, I may say, 
 As frank in their submission to the King 
 As the most loyal of us. 
 
 Santa C. And, also, madam, 
 
 These nobles and myself haye fertile lands 
 Farmed to the Moors; now, is it wise or just 
 That of our tenants we should be deprived, 
 Or see our fields turned into runs for wolves, 
 From a destructive policy of State, 
 Or for the pleasure of some special grudge 
 He bears this people 1 
 
 Gal. Will you proceed, madam ? 
 
 Queen Is. Spain can much better spare a few broad 
 Than holy Christian souls which would be risked [acres 
 By countenancing these Pagans in her midst. 
 We sign the paper. 
 
ActL] CALDEROK 17 
 
 [She signs it, and hands it back to Calderon. The con- 
 
 spirators look indignant. ~\ 
 
 Gal. [aside."] So, then, I crush this hated race at last! 
 Most noble Lady : 
 Posterity will look upon this act 
 As the most honored glory of your reign. 
 
 Queen Is. We rather stake our admiration on 
 An ever ready spirit to reward 
 Such as do merit well. Kneel, Don Calderon ! 
 Here, in the public eye and ear of Spain, 
 We bestow on you, with our royal hands, 
 The decoration of the Golden Fleece ; 
 And that becomingly it may be worn 
 As fitting your high privilege and deserts, 
 We raise you to the order of Grandee, 
 Under the title of the Duke of Milo. [Sensation. 
 
 Go, let the cannon and the trumpet speak 
 What grateful dignities attend on all 
 Who thus do serve the country and the crown. 
 
 [Exit Chamberlain. 
 
 Gal. Oh ! gracious Lady — 
 
 Queen Is. Nay? arise Lord Duke, 
 
18 CALDEROK [Act I. 
 
 And show your thanks in deeds, henceforth, which may 
 Raise you still higher than you stand to-day. 
 Come — 
 
 Cal. Madam — 
 
 Queen Is. We would present you to the King. 
 
 [March. Galderon is about to follow behind the Queen, 
 
 when she graciously offers him lier hand. All but the 
 
 five conspirators, exeunt to a lively march.] 
 
 Santa C. That my old eyes should be reserved for this ! 
 Why the great Captain was not honored so 
 On his victorious return from Naples ! 
 And then to think this harpy — Oh ! I feel 
 As I could tear my hair out, all at once ! 
 
 Car. Do so, good Marquis ; you will improve thereby 
 The sale of wigs. 
 
 Santa 0. Peace, you malicious boy. 
 
 Uz. The like was never known — made a Grandee! 
 
 San. Raised to a dukedom, too ! 
 
 Santa C. Rut the Golden Fleece ! 
 
 The Golden Fleece, remember, noble sirs ! 
 The Golden Fleece ! that glorious badge of honor 
 That is conferred hardly a score of times 
 
Act LI CALDEROK 19 
 
 In a whole reign ! Why, think you, gentlemen : 
 It has ne'er even been bestowed on me. 
 
 Car. Nor on me either. 
 
 TJz. Now are we fully warned 
 
 What infamy awaits our noble order 
 
 Unless we bring our enterprise to-night 
 
 - 
 To a fair issue. 
 
 San. Do you not think it best 
 
 We put this entertainment off a while? 
 You know if Calderon should e'er suspect 
 Why it is given — 
 
 Uz. Oh! I do not fear! 
 
 He will for some time be so occupied 
 With putting himself into knowing train 
 Concerning foreign and domestic matters 
 That during his long absence have transpired, 
 He will not think of dissipating time 
 In business so inconsequent and small 
 As hunting for stray women. 
 
 Santa C. That is true; 
 
 Besides, I have already told the Prince 
 Concerning his good fortune ; and he swears 
 
20 CALDEROK [Act L 
 
 That if we disappoint him, it will go 
 
 Most sadly with us. 
 
 Uz. Yes, the feast must take place ; 
 
 But for the sake of many of our friends 
 
 Whose fortunes will not bear a present risk, 
 
 I do propose the privilege of masks, 
 
 To such as choose to wear them. 
 
 Car. Masks, by all means; 
 
 For many will be present whom I know, 
 
 As having more to cover than to show. 
 
 Santa C. Let all be guided in this as they please, 
 
 And so you may report. The hound returns ; 
 
 We must not give him reason for suspicion 
 
 By speaking here together. Let us divide, 
 
 And lose ourselves in the galleries around. 
 
 Uz. Yes. Come — [Goes, 
 
 Santa C. What mean you, boy 1 
 
 Car. [who has been gently pulling Santa Cruz from a 
 certain spot.'] That's where he stood. 
 
 Santa C. [giving a jump and rubbing his soles.] 
 I'll burn these slippers when I reach my house. 
 
 [Exeunt all, severally. 
 
Act LI CALDEBON. 21 
 
 [Enter Calderon.] 
 
 Cat. [seating himself at a table.] 
 
 I've seen the King ; he lay upon his bed, 
 So worn a ruin of his former self, 
 He scarce could raise his thin, white, trembling hand 
 Upon my brow to bless me. But he confirmed 
 All that the Queen hath in my interest done. 
 Yet what to me is all this glory now ] 
 'Tis out of season ! Yea, the seed was killed 
 By the tempestuous violence of the spring, 
 And now the sun comes as in mockery out, 
 To make it flower. Oh, ye mighty gods, 
 May not my honors all give light enough 
 To fright the spectre of one guilty deed 
 Back to her Stygian haunts 1 It cannot be ! 
 The lonely student still must share my thoughts, 
 And every sleep wash red innocent dreams 
 In the blood of the Moor ! [Enter Ricardo. 
 
 Ric. My noble Lord. 
 
 Gal. Is't you, Bicardo ] 
 
 Ric. I hope you know me. 
 
 Cal. A passing blindness swept across my eyes ; 
 
22 CALDERON. [Act L 
 
 I know you well, Bicardo. Tell me now — 
 Have you had much discourse with AJiaga, 
 The Grand Inquisitor, since I departed % 
 
 Ric, Yea, My Lord. 
 
 Gal, Did he ever refer to me % 
 
 Ric, Often. 
 
 Gal, In what terms? 
 
 Ric, Most nattering, My Lord. 
 
 Gal, [aside,'] That is encouraging, and yet I fear ! 
 He has the secret of my youthful deed, 
 And hath abused it to advance himself 
 To rank and power. However high I soar, 
 Like a vile serpent coiled, around my throat, 
 He must rise with me. Oh ! that he were dead, 
 And that I saw him coffined at my feet ! 
 Ricardo ! 
 
 Ric, Senor ] 
 
 Gal, "What of my enemies ? 
 
 You've heard them rate the upstart more than once ? 
 
 Ric, Oh, worse than that; they have against you formed 
 A deep conspiracy ! 
 
 Gal, Ah, do you say so 1 
 
Act LI CALDEEON. 23 
 
 Ric. Yes \ read this paper. I have therein inscribed 
 The movers and abettors of the plot, 
 Their methods of procedure, and the hopes 
 They found upon their treason. 
 
 Cal. [reading.'] And it is headed by old Santa Cruz \ 
 Now, as to their proceeding, I perceive 
 They take their cue from scripture, and in this 
 They show some wisdom. The Prince is very young, 
 And more inclined, by temperament and nature, 
 To easy pleasures than to statesmanship ; 
 So, if they win him, they undo my greatness 
 As thoroughly as though they made my heart 
 A nest for all their daggers. They begin 
 Upon His Highness at a feast to-night. 
 I must see to this — Hark ! Ricardo ! 
 
 Ric. Senor ? 
 
 Gal. Did you not hear a knock 1 
 
 Ric. Where, Senor? 
 
 Cal. There I at the door of the secret stairway. 
 
 Ric. No, Senor. You must have deceived yourself. 
 
 Cal. Does that sound like it ? See whom it may be, 
 But, on your life, let him not enter here ; 
 
24 CALDERON. [Act I. 
 
 I would be alone. 
 
 Ric. I will obey you, sir. 
 
 [He opens the door, and Martin Fonseca appears.] 
 I crave your pardon. 
 
 Mar. "Unhand me, man, I say ! 
 
 I'll enter here if I must hew a door 
 Ev'n through your body. 
 [Hurls Ricardo aside, who puts his hand to his sword. 
 
 Colder on rises and comes forward.] 
 
 Cal. Who are you, sir, that thus — 
 
 Mar. One that did seek for justice from his Queen 
 And was denied, and, therefore, makes so bold 
 To come and ask it of her minister. 
 
 Cal. [frigidly.] I'm in no temper to oppose the Queen 
 For the sake of a stranger. 
 
 Mar. Stranger, sir? 
 
 Do you not know me ? 
 
 Cal. I do not. 
 
 Mar. How soon 
 
 We are forgotten by those unto whom 
 We are no longer useful ! There was a time 
 When you were proud to own my fellowship, 
 
ActL] CALDEROK 25 
 
 And even swear there was no love on earth 
 That you did prize like mine. But it is past. 
 I am no longer heir to grand estates, 
 Nor you my tutor. 
 
 Cal. \ioaves Ricardo to retire, and then eagerly.] 
 What are you, truly, then — 1 
 
 Mar. Once the rich nephew of Count Lerma ; 
 Now, plain Martin Fonseca. 
 
 Cal. [embracing him.] Heaven bless this hour ! 
 
 It brings the only happiness I have known 
 These many years. And you are little Martin, 
 Whom I once gaily galloped on my knee, 
 And after, with a willing patience taught * 
 The mysteries of books ! How you have grown 
 Into a fitting model of a man ! 
 You would do honor to a princely house 
 With these proportions. 
 
 Mar. Oh ! My noble Lord, 
 
 I now see how unjust I was to you. 
 Power has not changed you, and it never could ; 
 'Tis only those creatures of a vulgar stamp 
 Who are spoiled by it. 
 
26 CALDEROK [Act I. 
 
 Cat. Nor has it spared me ; 
 
 Few ever rise unto a high estate 
 
 Without doing much which they would have undone. 
 But tell me of yourself. How did it come 
 Your uncle cut you off from his succession ] 
 You gave him no cause? 
 
 Mar. No, but his lady did ; 
 
 For by some venture bearing him a son,- 
 He lost a taste for nephews. 
 
 Col. So you became 
 
 A common soldier to support yourself? 
 
 Mar. You have it, Senor. 
 
 Cat. Well, I now do hope 
 
 That you have sought me out for some promotion. 
 It would delight me to make you amends 
 For this rude bluff of fortune. 
 
 Mar. Oh ! Calderon, 
 
 I do not aim so high. I only come 
 To beg for your assistance to regain 
 A sweet young maid to whom I am betrothed, 
 And who was stolen by some fiend away, 
 On her arrival from the provinces, 
 
Actl.] C ALDER OK 27 
 
 In this great town to-day. 
 
 Cal. Are you sure, Martin, 
 
 She was not made a willing prisoner ? 
 
 Mar. How should you ask this ] 
 
 Cal. ■ She may have crossed some one 
 
 With more rings on his fingers, or who had 
 A longer feather to his hat than you, 
 Or more lace to his coat. 
 
 Mar. Oh, my good Senor ! 
 
 Cal. You know not women ; they are as shining baits, 
 Thrown out upon the troubled sea of life 
 To lure us down to hell. I would not trust 
 One of these cunning creatures of deceit 
 Though she affirmed her faith on Holy Writ, 
 By the most sacred vows. 
 
 Mar. Alas ! I see ; 
 
 Office hath stolen the freshness from your heart, 
 And filled its place with gall for all your kind. 
 Now, for this reason, would you know my bride ! 
 She is so tender, lovable and true, 
 She would expel this poison from your blood 
 And make you feel again. 
 
28 C ALDER OK [Act I. 
 
 Cal. Have your own way ; 
 
 It is in vain we argue with a lover. 
 So you wish my assistance ] 
 
 Mar. Nay, I crave it. 
 
 Cal. "What is your charmer's name ] 
 
 Mar. Beatrice Costello. 
 
 Cal. [startled.] How ! the young woman only lately 
 Chorister to the Queen ? [named 
 
 Mar. The same, My Lord. 
 
 Cal. [with meaning.] Do you not know the author of 
 this outrage ? 
 
 Mar. Oh, that do I ! A sort of shambling graybeard, 
 Prank't up in silk and satin, lace and gold ; 
 Who wears a shining sword upon his thigh 
 Which never tasted blood, I dare avouch, 
 Since it was temper'd. I think somewhere I heard 
 His name was Santa Cruz. 
 
 Cal. [aside, triumphantly.] Oh, blessed chance ! 
 I'll serve myself and friend at once in this. 
 A word, Don Martin. Was Santa Cruz alone, 
 Or only one of several in this matter 1 
 Can you tell me 1 
 
AciL] CALBEROK 29 
 
 Mar. There were others with him ; 
 
 But so behooded my informer failed 
 To note them clearly. 
 
 Cal. At least, then, did they seem 
 
 To have the air of commoners or nobles 1 
 
 Mar. Oh, sir, of nobles. 
 
 Cal. [aside.] They are, I know, 
 
 My very enemies. The leaves and branches 
 Are not more corporate with the vital trunk 
 Than these same creatures with old Santa Cruz. 
 "Well, more of that [carelessly]. I'll do all I can for you; 
 Yet, I must work with caution. 
 
 Mar. Still, you should know 
 
 That any hesitation — 
 
 Cal. I'll not be slow ; 
 
 [Patting him on the back and laughing.] 
 I never felt such a desire to haste 
 In anything before. Believe me, sir, 
 You'll press your lady to your heart again, 
 Ere the day spends itself. 
 
 Mar. You promise this? 
 
 Cal. Nay, nay, I swear it ! [Raises his hand. 
 
30 CALDEROK [Act I. 
 
 Mar. [about to kneel.] Oh ! generous friend — - 
 
 Gal. Come, that hereafter. Now go to your lodgings 
 And as you were invited to some dance, 
 Trick yourself in gay habits, but beneath 
 Wear you a suit of mail. At the hour of five 
 You must encounter me, as by a chance 
 Upon the Prado — 
 
 Mar. Yes. 
 
 Gal. When I'll unfold 
 
 The part you are to play in a design 
 Now fast conceiving here. [Strikes his forehead. 
 
 Mar. R e ty on me • 
 
 I'll serve you in whatever you command, 
 To win my own Beatrice back again. 
 
 Cat. [ringing bell.] Ricardo ! [Enter Eieovrdo, 
 
 Pdc. Sir] 
 
 Gal. Conduct this gentleman 
 
 By yon same passage to the public court; 
 Then to the armory and await my orders. 
 Bemember now, at five. 
 
 Mar. I will. 
 
 Gal. Farewell ! 
 
ActL] CALDERON. 31 
 
 [Shuts the door after Martin and Bicardo.~\ 
 Did ever remedy so swiftly follow 
 On the disease] They who conspire against me 
 Have, by this timely outrage, done the Queen 
 A capital offence. Now I will make 
 This public preiext serve my private cause, 
 Using it as an instrument to sweep 
 These envious rivals of my hard-won power 
 Forever from my sight. Therefore the Queen 
 Shall to their treacherous festival to-night, 
 And I will time my measures, that the girl 
 {Shall there in their possession be declared 
 Under her eyes. Thus do I make their guilt 
 A truth notorious as the light of day, 
 And have the disposition of their lives 
 At my mere humour. O, the prospect is sweet I 
 So vanish despair ; come joyance, come delight, 
 For I shall crush my enemies to-night ! 
 
\ 
 
ACT SECOND. 
 
 Scene — A hall in the palace of Santa Cruz; in the rear 
 it is seen to open on a garden lit up with lanterns, 
 etc., as for a night fete. On either side are doors as 
 leading to other rooms R. and L. On the R. a table 
 set with flowers, fruits, wines, etc., at which TJzeda, 
 Sandoval, Carlo, and Lerdo are seated. Guests, 
 masked and otherwise, promenading behind, across 
 lower part of the hall and in the garden. Music. 
 
 Car. "What is the hour, TJzeda 1 
 
 TJz. Almost nine. 
 
 Car. His Highness somehow overstays his time. 
 
 San. Could it be that he has outlived his passion, 
 And left us to make the best of our crime, 
 After persuading us with so much grace 
 To its commission 1 
 
 Ler. I fear it is so. 
 
 Uz. Do not at random thus accuse the Prince. 
 Were he so frail in nature, he would not 
 
34 CALDEROK [Act II. 
 
 Permit the sufferance of his misdeeds 
 
 To fall on others. I stand warrant for that. 
 
 Guests [behind.] All hail ! 
 
 Car. Eh, what is this 1 
 
 Guests. Long live the Prince ! 
 
 Omnes [at table.] The Prince ] 
 
 [Enter Prince of Spain, gaily dressed, bows E. and L. to 
 guests, and comes forward.] 
 
 Uz. What did I tell you] 
 
 San. Thus I amend 
 
 What in my hastiness I said against him : 
 Long live His Highness ! 
 
 Uz. So do I respond. 
 
 Omnes. And I — and I — 
 
 Prince. My thanks, good gentlemen; 
 
 I little merit you should express yourselves 
 In this kind manner ; for too well I know 
 That I have tried your patience. 
 
 Omnes. Oh, Sir — 
 
 Prince. Come now — 
 
 Car. Oh, no, Your Highness — you are over prompt, 
 And we are proud to serve a Prince who keeps 
 
Act II.] CALDERON. 35 
 
 With such religious and pronounced respect 
 To his engagements. 
 
 Prince. You're a sly rogue, Carlo, 
 
 And I fear greatly you are laughing at me. 
 
 Car. Heaven forbid I should do such a thing — ■ 
 [asirfe] Before his face. [bold — 
 
 Prince [putting back a chair.] Well, I will make so 
 
 Uz. [staying him.] Oh, no ! Your Highness ; here is 
 The chair for you. 
 
 Prince [sitting.'] You are the host, and so I must obey. 
 Ha! what profusion ! 
 
 Uz. [pouring out wine.] Will you allow me, Prince 1 
 
 Prince. Be modest, Count ; I shall need all my wits 
 To bear me safely through the sweet affair 
 We have in train. Now, as respecting thai, 
 How fares our little songstress in her cage % 
 Mournfully, I suppose 1 
 
 mines [laughing.] Oh ! not at all. 
 
 Prince. How, friends] 
 
 Uz. We were no bunglers at our work. 
 
 But, on accosting, did persuade our captive 
 She was, by royal orders, to abide 
 
36 CALDEROK [Act II. 
 
 In this good palace, until such a time 
 As it might suit the leisure of the Queen 
 To name her final place of residence. 
 
 Prince. And she believed you ] 
 
 Uz. Yes, and so does she still. [All laugh. 
 
 Prince. Why, then she will be tame, at sight of me ! 
 There'll be no pouting, screaming, wringing hands, 
 None of that folly, eh ? 
 
 Uz. She will receive 
 
 Your Highness with the richest of her smiles ; 
 For, knowing you to be a friend of ours, 
 She never will suspect — 
 
 Prince [joyfully.] Now you are men 
 
 Who know how to accommodate your Prince. 
 Pass your hands 'round. I am so overjoyed 
 I almost wish I was King even now, 
 So that I might advance you. [Drinks. 
 
 Uz. [aside .] O, mark you that ] 
 
 Omnes [aside.] Yes ! yes ! 
 
 Prince. Good gracious ! 
 
 [Enter Santa Cruz from door on opposite side, leading in 
 Beatrice, prettily arrayed, as for a feast.] 
 
ActIL] CALDEROK 37 
 
 Omnes. Prince ! 
 
 Prince. Oh ! look you there. [All turn. 
 
 Uz. It is our charmer. 
 
 [Prince rises and looks at her, entranced. ~\ 
 
 Car. Oh, to be a Prince ! 
 
 Santa C. Lo ! Seiiors, I bring you our fairy Queen. 
 
 Omnes [rising and drinking^ To the Lady Beatrice ! 
 
 Pea. Oh, My Lords, 
 
 You do confound me with your courtesies ; 
 You know full well that I deserve them not. 
 
 Uz. Your mercy, Lady. You do not see yourself 
 With the same kind of eyes that others do ; 
 Beauty is like a genial summer sun, 
 "Which must find worshippers when e'er it shines, 
 Whether it will or no. 
 
 Pea. Oh, my good sir, 
 
 I am not used to flatteries like these, 
 And, if you really seek to pleasure me, 
 I pray that you conduct me to the Queen, 
 That I, in duty, may entreat of her 
 Soon to confirm my place about her person. 
 
 Santa C. Why, Lady, are you not contented here ? 
 
38 CALDEROK [Act II. 
 
 Surely, I've sought in every way to make 
 Your stay a pleasing one. 
 
 Bea. I own it, sir ; 
 
 But then, you know, I am an humble maid, 
 And should, in modesty, prefer to be 
 Under the guardage of the Queen herself 
 Than any of her nobles. 
 
 Prince. In that desire 
 
 You shall, fair Lady, soon be gratified. 
 
 Bea. Oh, sir, have you the power to promise this ] 
 
 Santa C. [aside to others, who laugh.] That is, indeed, 
 
 Prince [smiling.] I do not think [sublime. 
 
 That any person here, whate'er his prestige, 
 Would hazard contradiction with his Prince. 
 
 Bea. Oh ! are you the Prince ] 
 
 Prince. At your fair service. 
 
 Bea. Thus, then, in my submission, I incline — 
 
 Prince [Raising her up.] 
 
 Oh, Lady ! You must not forget yourself ! 
 
 Bea. I did not know that I was doing wrong ; 
 1 never spoke with majesty before. [moved. 
 
 Prince [aside.] What lovely innocence ! I see you're 
 
Act II.] CALDERON. 39 
 
 Yes, I will present you to my mother soon ; 
 My word upon it. 
 
 Bea. Oh ! I thank Your Highness. 
 
 Prince. But meanwhile you must in the pleasures share 
 These gentle Lords have by the Queen's command 
 Prepared for you to-night. If you permit, 
 I will for the " Bolero " claim your hand, 
 Which is commencing now. [Music without. 
 
 Bea. Oh, Prince, this honor — 
 
 Prince. Beauty on its possessor doth bestow 
 A sovereignty, which to itself commands 
 Many more subjects than the proudest rank. 
 So you bestow the honor. 
 [Gives *his hand gracefully, and leading Beatrice off ; the 
 
 Courtiers seem in ecstacies.~\ 
 
 Car. Your hand, good Marquis. 
 
 San. You have done well in this, I must avouch ! 
 
 Santa C. There's commendation ; as ever in my life 
 I seriously did undertake a thing, 
 Which I did not do well. 
 
 San. I did not mean — 
 
 Car. Come, I will make him your apology. 
 
40 CALDEKOK [Act II. 
 
 Good Marquis ? [Offering a goblet. 
 
 Santa C. That I will, Carlo ; 
 
 Wine has not passed my lips to-day, and now 
 My throat cracks for it. [Drinks. 
 
 [Enter from the garden Calderon and Ricardo, in masks 
 
 and dominoes.] 
 
 Gar. [filling his goblet.'] What say you again % 
 
 Santa C. Thank you, good Carlo ! We have won the 
 Beyond all peradvanture of a loss ; [Prince 
 
 Think you not so 1 
 
 Uz. It is a settled fact. 
 
 Cat. [low.] Is it 1 
 
 Uz. Who spoke 1 
 
 Car. No one. 
 
 Uz. [turning around.] I am not sure. 
 
 Who are those persons ? 
 
 Santa C. Friends to us, of course. 
 
 Good gentlemen, will you not drink with us? 
 
 JRic. I will, for one. 
 
 Col. [jerking him from behind.] No you won't. 
 
 Eic. I see no harm. 
 
 CaL You will forgive us that we must decline. 
 
ActIL] ' CALDERON. 41 
 
 "We have already loyally partook 
 From the ordinary tables you have set 
 Out on the grounds. 
 
 Santa C. You are, sir, overnice ; 
 
 A simple glass with us — 
 
 Cal. Once more, your pardon \ 
 
 It is sufficient if you will allow 
 My comrade and myself to study o'er 
 The curious paintings you have on these walls. 
 We are something of artists. 
 
 Santa C. As you choose ; 
 
 0, a harmless pair ! 
 
 And the most probable of all our friends 
 To come disguised. 
 
 Car. Yes, they amount to naught. 
 
 Do you know, gentlemen, I have on my mind 
 A most perplexing problem 1 
 
 Omnes. What is it, pray ] 
 
 Car. Why, now, that we're so sure of Calderon, 
 By what manner of death ought we to send him 
 Unto his long account ? 
 
 Santa C. That is a puzzle. 
 
42 CALDERON. [Act II. 
 
 There are so many nice and rasping deaths, 
 It makes one sick to think he cannot make 
 The imp suffer them all. 
 
 Gal. [fiercely.] Oh! 
 
 San. It is, indeed : 
 
 Upon the whole, though, I propose the rack ! 
 
 Lev. O, no ; the axe ! 
 
 Uz. But fire is so slow and sure ! 
 
 Car. I always had a liking for the rope ! 
 
 Santa G. And so did I ; a nice and downy rope, 
 To glide around the neck, like a rose-wreath, 
 And e're the lightning can dart forth a flash, 
 "Whiff! and it closes, and the hapless wight 
 Lands on the other side of Jericho ! 
 I speak for the rope ! 
 
 Gal. [aside.] Do you ] 
 
 Uz. Well, we can 
 
 Decide all this hereafter ; but for the while, 
 One rousing glass to our success thus far ! 
 
 nines, [boisterously.] Yes — yes — that bottle ; not 
 so fast, I beg ! 
 [Enter the Queen and attendants.] 
 
Act II] CALDEROK 43 
 
 Car. and Santa C. The Queen ! good heavens, here's 
 
 an ado ! 
 Queen Is. You well may start and show your guilty 
 We know the meaning of this revel here, [fears ; 
 
 And nominate it treason. 
 
 Santa C. Your royal leave, 
 
 We are at loss to comprehend what you — 
 
 Queen Is. If we must be explicit, know then, sir, 
 You have only assembled here your friends 
 To plot the ruin of Don Calderon. 
 
 Omnes. Oh ! my good lady ! 
 
 Queen Is. Which we denote an act 
 
 Alike disloyal and perfidous ; 
 For none, how noble in the State soever, 
 But should harmoniously comport themselves 
 Towards the minister most near the throne. 
 He is, as 'twere, the right arm of the King ; 
 Which must, perforce, hang useless at his side, 
 If, by your rivalries and base intrigues, 
 You stand on all occasions in the way 
 Of its free action. 
 
 Santa G. [sweetly .] Believe me, gentle Queen, 
 
44 CALDEROK [Act II. 
 
 We do fondly esteem Don Calderon. 
 
 Cat. [aside.] Yes ; and so he does you. 
 
 Santa C. Upon my oath, we do. 
 
 Queen Is. Ah ! do you say so] We'll put you to the 
 We've ordered Calderon, against his will, [proof ! 
 
 To come this evening here ; so be you prepared, 
 Here in our presence, to give him your hands, 
 And, on the Holy Book, to swear yourselves 
 To his eternal friendship. 
 
 [Sensation among the conspirators. Calderon smiles.] 
 
 Santa C. But, precious Queen — 
 
 Queen Is. You've heard our pleasure ; so, by our return, 
 Be ready to conform yourselves thereto, 
 Or to attend the direst penalties 
 That we can visit on your guilty heads. 
 [Exit, with attendants.] 
 
 Cal. How well I wrought the Queen to play this part ! 
 Let us retire, and bide a better time. [He retires with 
 
 San. Calderon coming here ] [Ricardo. 
 
 Car. And the Queen here already — 
 
 Santa C. Why, it follows, 
 
 Should either, as 'tis like, chance on Beatrice, 
 
ActIL] CALDERON. 45 
 
 The consequences to our precious selves 
 "Would be — well, you can fancy. 
 
 [Makes pantomimic saw across his throat.] 
 
 -nines. True ! true ! 
 
 Car. I wish 
 
 That 'we had never aught to do with her ; 
 I thought she'd end by getting us in trouble. 
 
 Lev. What is to be done % 
 
 Uz. "We must induce the Prince 
 
 To lure her from this place upon the hour ; 
 This will be easy, as he doth possess 
 A pious reputation with the Queen, 
 And so will make some effort to escape 
 The loss of it. 
 
 Santa 0. Let's see to it at once. 
 
 Uz. Yes, many a purpose, wise and well conceived, 
 Miscarries through that mischievous distemper 
 Which never knows the nice dividing season 
 Between the thought and act. 
 
 Santa C. Then come ! 
 
 Omnes. Yes, away ! \Calderon and 
 
 Ricardo come forward, holding masks in their hands.] 
 
46 CALDEROK [Act TL 
 
 Cal. Oh, the hypocrisy of Royal Courts, 
 "Where truth, transformed into a shining mask, 
 Is only worn to hide the hideous blots 
 Which mar the natural visage. Soft, you now ! 
 Do not cast at an unoffending world 
 The processes by which yourself did rise. 
 But so 'tis ever ! 
 
 Failings that in our neighbors do appear, 
 As vast as mountains, in our goodly selves 
 Are only specks. Now, are you sure, Ricardo, 
 The lady is within 1 
 
 Ric. Ay, that I am, 
 
 I had it from a babbling waiting maid ; 
 And this, moreover, her apartment lies 
 At the far end of a long gallery 
 You will perceive on opening this door. 
 
 Cal. Have you the keys ? 
 
 Ric. Yes, Sefior ; here they are. 
 
 Cal. Are they trustworthy 1 
 
 Ric. The best in Madrid ; 
 
 They will turn any lock that ere was fashioned. 
 
 Cal. Then I will enter— I must see Beatrice, 
 
Act II.] CALDEROK 47 
 
 That I may be assured on evidence 
 Beyond the fear of contradiction ; she 
 Is really in the power of my foes. 
 
 Ric. Success attend you, sir. 
 
 Cal. Thank you, Bicardo ; 
 
 Whilst I am thus engaged remain not here ; 
 You might be too exposed in such a place 
 To spying eyes and questions. Remember, then — 
 
 [Exit by first door. 
 
 Ric. Oh ! I will, sir ; for all this I'll remain, 
 And welcome the invitation I received. [Points to the 
 'Tis said, 'tis sweet to slay an enemy ; [bottles. 
 
 I find it sweeter far to drink his wine, 
 "When it is worth it ; for enemies I have, 
 Who on their tables set such arrant poisons, 
 They could kill anyone whom they misliked 
 Simply by kindly asking him to dinner. 
 But here's a problem — a dozen bottles good, 
 And but one goblet to empty them down. 
 A knotty contradiction I will solve 
 By the old rule three. 
 [Sets three goblets in line, and pours from the three largest 
 
48 CALDEROK [Act II. 
 
 bottles into each, drinks one after another and refills in 
 
 the same manner. Enter Martin Fonseca, who slaps 
 
 him on the shoulder '.] 
 
 Mar. So there — 
 
 Ric. [ startled.] Oh ! goodness ! 
 
 Mar. What are you doing 1 
 
 Ric. Practicing economy. 
 
 "Wines thus exposed turn sour and are thrown out, 
 And I was only putting them where they 
 "Would not go to such waste. 
 
 Maf\ If Calderon knew this — 
 
 Ric. But you are too respectable to tell him. 
 
 Mar. Where is he 3 
 
 Ric. On a hunt. 
 
 Mar. I understand. 
 
 Yet I would like to have some words with him ; 
 I have the guards safely arrived without, 
 And know not how to introduce them here. 
 
 Ric. Oh ! I can manage that. There is a gate 
 To the rear of this palace seldom used, 
 And for that cause unwatched. Now, with this key, 
 I will open it for Your Worship as 
 
Act II.] CALDEEOK 49 
 
 Freely as — 
 
 Mar. That is just what I need ; 
 Lead me to the spot. 
 
 Ric. Soft ; are the guards 
 
 Still as you left them ? 
 
 Mar. Yes. 
 
 JRic. Masks all in place ] 
 
 Mar. Exactly. 
 
 Ric. Swords at their sides ? 
 
 Mart. Yes. 
 
 Ric. [bravely.'] ^ Then come on ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 [Enter Prince and Beatrice, from the garden^] 
 
 Prince. The Queen here ! To what a strait am X re~ 
 I must, indeed, remove my jewel hence [duced L 
 
 If I would keep it. 
 
 Bea. Prince. 
 
 Prince. Madam % 
 
 Bea. Do you know 
 
 Who that grand lady was we passed just now, 
 And whom you did so quickly — 
 
 Prince. Avoid, eh? 
 
50 C ALDER ON. [Act II. 
 
 That was a crank old Duchess who dislikes 
 
 The very sight of me. "We are not on speaking terms. 
 
 Bea. 'Tis strange ; I thought that she looked like the 
 Queen. 
 
 Prince. Oh, not at all ; you never saw the Queen ] 
 
 Bea. Oh, but I have her portrait. 
 
 Prince. A very poor one, 
 
 Or it could never cheat your eyes into 
 So wild a notion. When you see Her Highness 
 You'll be of my opinion — without doubt. 
 
 Bea. I would that could be soon. 
 
 Prince. Truly ? 
 
 Bea. I do. 
 
 Prince. I see that you must be unhappy here ; 
 Therefore I shall assume it on myself 
 To grant your wish. 
 
 Bea. [eagerly. .] Prince ! 
 
 Prince. I'll lead you to the Queen. 
 
 Bea. When — when — to-morrow ? 
 
 Prince. If you will, to-night. 
 
 Bea. Oh, I will bless Your Highness whilst I live 
 If you do me this favor. It is true 
 
Act II.] CALDEROK 51 
 
 That all are gentle to me in this house, 
 But there's a terror in my heart withal 
 Persuades me that my place is by the Queen. 
 
 Prince. Yery well "then ; prepare for your departure ; 
 I will go forthwith and command the coach 
 That is to bear you hence. 
 
 Bea. To the palace ] 
 
 Prince. Yes [aside] ] to that which I inhabit, not the 
 Queen. [Exit Prince. 
 
 Bea. How very good in him to serve me thus ! 
 I will obey his bidding, for I yearn 
 To leave these noisy revels. How is this ? 
 
 [Enter Colder on.] 
 A man disguised coming from out the hall 
 Which leads to my apartment. Oh ! I fear — 
 I will run to this balustrade, and call 
 Some passer to my aid. 
 
 Gal. [taking off mask.] Young woman; stay! 
 
 Bea. _ Sir? 
 
 Cal. You must not fear. Your name is Beatrice 1 
 
 Bea. Yes. 
 
 Cal. [aside.] So, then, my vengeance is at last secure ! 
 
52 CALDERON. [Act II. 
 
 You are astonished, but you do not know 
 How I rejoice to find you. 
 
 JBea. How is it, sir 1 
 
 Have you been looking for me ] 
 
 Cal. Ay, I have 
 
 Ransacked your room, ev'n from end to end, 
 In my search for you. See, here is your cloak, 
 Here your mantilla, and your portrait here — 
 Objects, I had resolved, should stand for you 
 In case I found you not. 
 
 Bea. "What motive, pray, 
 
 Had you in such a busy quest for me ] 
 
 Cal. I'm acting for your lover. 
 
 Bea. Lover? 
 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 Bea. How know you, but by reason of my sorrows, 
 I have renounced all thoughts of love 1 
 
 Cal. Because 
 
 You are too young and beauteous a thing, 
 Thus from a fancy, a conceit of grief, 
 To hearse your virgin beauties from the world, 
 And, in the gloom of a despairing heart, 
 
ActlL] CALDEROK 53 
 
 Bury the passionate humors of the blood 
 As in a grave. 
 
 Bea. How you read through my soul ! 
 
 I do believe, that, like a wise magician, 
 You could now conjure up before my eyes 
 The very being of my precious hopes, 
 If so you would. 
 
 Cal. [glancing aside, sees Martin Fonseca, who has en- 
 And, lady, so I can. [tered.] 
 
 Look there ! 
 
 Bea. Don Martin ! 
 
 Mar. [embracing her.] Beatrice ! 
 
 Cal. Alas! 
 
 I had such sweet affections in my youth; 
 But they are withered now. 
 
 Mar. Oh ! Beatrice ! 
 
 How happy 'tis that we arrive in time 
 To save you from your peril. 
 
 Bea. Peril ! 
 
 Cal. Yes ! 
 
 You were a lamb here in the midst of wolves, 
 And did not know it. The nobles now approach, 
 
54 CALDERON. [Act II. 
 
 And we our explanations must defer, 
 To calmer moments. Get you both in here, 
 And be as noiseless as you were two statues 
 Till the event evolves that will unfold 
 "What you're to do 1 
 
 Mar. But — 
 
 Cal. I know your temper, 
 
 But this you must restrain, and not give vent. 
 Are the guards now within? 
 
 Mar. They are, my Lord, 
 
 And it was to report this service done 
 I came here only now. 
 
 Cal. All is ready, then; 
 
 Do as I bade you. 
 
 Mar. Am I to basely wait?— 
 
 Cal. They are upon us. 
 
 Mar. Still— 
 
 Cal. 'Twill be too late 
 
 If you longer delay ; within, I charge you ! 
 [Directs them to a door opposite to that leading to Beatrice's 
 
 apartment; they enter, Martin reluctantly .] 
 Now for a ready change of this costume 
 
Act II.] CALDEROK 55 
 
 And then to make these waspish insects feel 
 What 'tis to venture 'neath a great man's heel. [Exit 
 
 [Enter the Conspirators.] 
 
 Santa C. Just tarry here awhile until I note 
 Whether the Prince hath kept his promise to us, 
 And borne the maiden hence. [Exit into first door. 
 
 TJz. See to it quick, then. 
 
 The Queen in a few seconds will be here, 
 To know our answer to her ultimatum. 
 We will give our hands to Don Calderon ; 
 Will we not, Seiiors 1 
 
 San. I think it better, 
 
 The King will ere a month be in his grave; 
 And as we then will be advanced to power, 
 We can amend ourselves for this dishonor 
 In Calderon's death. 
 
 Car. That is my notion, too ; 
 
 Resistance now might utterly undo us ; 
 And, for my part, I see no earthly use 
 In getting punished more than we can help. 
 
 [Enter Santa Cruz.] 
 What news, good Marquis ] 
 
56 CALDEROK [Act II. 
 
 Santa C. Splendid ; she 's not there ; 
 
 Even her small effects have disappeared, 
 
 Showing His Highness has prevailed, and she 
 
 Hath gone froni here with him. 
 
 Car. Bravissimo ! 
 
 Now let a hundred Calderons come I "Who cares T 
 
 [Music. Enter Queen, attendants, guests, and Bernardo, 
 with guards, in masks and dominoes, who range them- 
 selves as carelessly behind the conspirators ; lastly, enter 
 Calderon, gayly dressed, who takes his position apart.] 
 Queen Is. Well, gentlemen, have you decided yet 
 
 Upon an answer ] 
 
 Uz. Yes, Lady, we have ; 
 
 Though we protest Your Highness is deceived, 
 
 And that we prize your noble minister ; 
 
 Yet, for the sake of concord we consent 
 
 To bind ourselves henceforward to observe 
 
 The holiest terms of amity with him, 
 
 And so in sanction hold our willing hands 
 
 Ready to welcome his. 
 
 Queen Is. You hear, My Lord 1 
 
 "We are astonished that you answer not, 
 
Act II.] CALDEROK 57 
 
 But twist your scornful lips, and turn your eyes 
 "With hateful looks from those who would be friends. 
 "We hope you will not prove like a spoiled child, 
 And peevishly refuse a favor, now 
 That it was once denied. 
 
 Cal. I can forgive 
 
 Injuries that are done against myself; 
 Not those against the Queen. 
 
 Queen Is. How 1 
 
 Cal. All the world knows 
 
 A crime against Your Highness was committed 
 Only to-day. 
 
 Queen Is. Well ] 
 
 Cal. And that I was commissioned 
 
 To find the perpetrators of the deed 1 
 
 Queen Is. We do confess it. 
 
 Cal. Well, that duty is done ; 
 
 And by St. Michael and the saints, I swear 
 That here they are ! [Movement by all. 
 
 Queen Is. Seiior ! 
 
 Santa C. It is a slander ! 
 
 Car. O, no ! a little joke ! 
 
58 CALDERON. [Act II 
 
 Queen Is. You must beware 
 
 How you accuse gentlemen of this stamp ; 
 And to advance such charges, without proof, 
 On your mere statement — 
 
 Cal. Touch me not so close ; 
 
 For if, in confirmation of my word, 
 Your servant be not found in durance here, 
 Let my life answer for it. 
 
 Car. Say your prayers, then. 
 
 Cal. Do you defy me to the search ] 
 
 nines. We do. 
 
 Santa C. Nay, more ; we 're ready to assist you in it, 
 If you will follow. 
 
 Cal. Lead on t 
 
 Uz. [pushing open 1st door.] Will you try here 1 
 
 San. [2d door.] Or here] 
 
 Car. [3d door.] Or here] 
 
 Santa C. [Uh door.] Or — O, the devil, Oh ! 
 
 [Beatrice and Martin appear, and at a rapid sign from 
 
 C alder on, go and kneel be/ore the Queen ; a profound 
 
 sensation amongst all present ; the conspirators confused, 
 
 return to their places in front of the guards ; C alder on 
 
Act II.] CALDEROK 59 
 
 smiles at them triximphantly. Enter the Prince behind !\ 
 
 Prince, The coach is ready — ha ! this is no place for 
 me. [Exit. 
 
 Cal. Now, Seiiors, where will you invite me next ] 
 
 Santa C. Your Majesty — 
 
 Queen Is. Not a word ! 
 
 Santa C. We can explain — 
 
 Queen Is. We have seen with our eyes, and are con- 
 Don Calderon, go unto the outer postern [vinced. 
 And bid our guards to come and seize these people ! 
 
 Cal. I need not go so far. Men, to your duty! 
 [Guards quickly throw off dominoes and masks, and stand. 
 
 revealed tvith drawn s words. ~\ 
 
 Queen Is. This foresight is, indeed, commendable ; 
 See that they are closely confined to-night ; 
 But, with the early morning, have them brought 
 For judgment to our palace. 
 
 Cal. So, you hear 1 
 
 I thank you greatly that you save Her Grace 
 A tedious discussion upon that ! 
 You like the rack ; you, the sharp-cutting axe ; 
 You, the slow pangs of fire ; and both of you 
 
60 CALDEROK [Act II. 
 
 Have such a dainty relish for the rope ! 
 
 Well, I'll not prove ungrateful, for I swear 
 
 You all shall have your choice. Away with them ! 
 
 Ha! ha! ha! ha! 
 [Tableau.] 
 
 \ 
 
ACT THIRD. 
 
 Scene — a room in the Palace, looking out on the river — 
 Calderon observed writing at a table — Ricardo is 
 passing across the apartment in the rear, 
 
 Cal. Ricardo ! 
 
 Ric. Sir 1 
 
 Cal. Are the prisoners here 1 
 
 Ric. They are, Sefior. 
 
 Cal. Go, then, inform the Queen 
 
 That I am ready to begin the trial 
 When it may suit her pleasure. 
 
 Ric. I obey, sir. [Exit. 
 
 Cal. 'Tis only their perdition makes me safe ; 
 For, though I hold them at no worthy rate, 
 They are as perilous as grosser game ; 
 The single panther is not more a fear 
 Than a hive of malignant wasps, that smite 
 With all their fangs at once. So, I move not 
 From purposes revengeful, but the law, 
 
62 CALDEROK [Act III 
 
 "Which makes the preservation of our being 
 An obligation beyond every means 
 However ghastly to the general eye. 
 Therefore, be still, my conscience, nor distract 
 My future courses with unquiet thoughts ! 
 For, though their fall be direful in th' extreme, 
 Tis but the dread and terrible rebound 
 Made by the murderous missile they had aimed 
 Against my harmless life. So, once more, be still ! 
 They've lost the bloody stake for which they played : 
 Theirs, then, the forfeit, if it must be paid. 
 [He continues to write — enter the Prince of Spain, who 
 advances on tip-toe, and touches Calderon on the 
 shoulder.] 
 
 Cal. Ah! my Prince 1 
 
 Prince. How does Your Worship ] 
 
 Cal. Well. 
 
 Prince. Are you in humor ] 
 
 Cal. Surprisingly so. 
 
 Prince. I rejoice to hear it ; 
 
 For now you may be more disposed to grant 
 A favor I'd ask of you. 
 
Act III.] CALDEROK 63 
 
 Cal. A favor, Prince 1 
 
 Prince. Yes ; I want you to help me to a lady 
 With whom I am in love. 
 
 Cal. And tell me, pray, 
 
 Who is the fair one that doth charm you so 1 
 
 Prince. Lady Beatrice. 
 
 Cal. [rising. ~\ Here is damnation ! 
 
 How should I aid you in such an affair ] 
 That hapless maiden is your mother's ward, 
 And so beyond my power. 
 
 Prince. Oh, if you choose, 
 
 You could so wisely manage my good mother, 
 She would prove no excuse. Why, I have seen 
 People of the most trained and steady minds 
 So mastered by the witchcraft of your power, 
 That they have served your purposes with deeds 
 Their reasoning moments would have shunned like pitch. 
 'Tis not the faculty — it is the will 
 You want to aid you. 
 
 Cal. Well, I will own it ; 
 
 You are the heir presumptive, and I have 
 Far too much reverence for \our princely place 
 
64 C A L D E R K [Act III. 
 
 To flatter you in lustful phrenzies, which 
 Must tarnish it with shame. Why, it is strange 
 That you have not this nice regard yourself, 
 And, by a speedy mastery of your blood, 
 Make some endeavor — 
 
 Prince. Enough of this, I pray ; 
 
 "When I do need a sermon I will go 
 To my confessor. Now hear me, Calderon : 
 It is apparent I shall soon be King ; 
 And even already am I much harassed 
 Concerning my advisers. Consider, then, 
 How you conduct yourself in my opinion, 
 Lest, by an unwise opposition, you 
 Ruin the golden promises which break 
 On your ambition. 
 
 Cal. Oh, my gracious Prince ! 
 
 You do not know, perchance, this gentle maid 
 Is sworn to the possession of another — 
 A gallant soldier in your father's ranks, 
 "Who doats upon her looks. 
 
 Prince. Let him renounce her, 
 
 • And he shall have an houri in her place. 
 
Act III.'] CALDERON. 65 
 
 Nay, more, I swear lie shall be made a Duke, 
 And be endowed with castles and demesnes 
 To make the title good. 
 
 Cal. He would not consent. 
 
 Prince. Then you must. [so base ] 
 
 Cal. "What ! to my friend prove 
 
 Prince. But to your Prince show yourself so loyal. 
 Come, Calderon, by all the hopes you found 
 Upon the favor of my near succession, 
 You must accord this. 
 
 Cal. I tell you frankly, no. 
 
 Prince. Is this your answer ] 
 
 Cal. It is. 
 
 Prince. Then beware ! 
 
 I have more power than you do suppose. 
 
 Cal. I hold my office from the King alone ; 
 That you cannot impeach. 
 
 Prince. * So you despise me ! 
 
 Cal. At least, I fear you not. 
 
 Prince. You do not 1 Now ! 
 
 Before this day is older you shall find 
 The whelp has claws as well as the grown lion. [Exit. 
 
66 CALDEKOK [Act III. 
 
 Cal. That he is dangerous I do believe ; 
 But I will clip his threatening fangs so close 
 That he shall hiss as harmless in my way 
 As an Indian aspic in the hands 
 
 Of a snake-charmer ! [Flourish. 
 
 [Enter Martin Fonseca.'] 
 
 Mar. -Oh, my noble Lord ! 
 
 Cal. How now, Don Martin'? "What is it moves you so 1 
 
 Mar. Oh, sir ; the palace is on every side 
 By a most violent rabble now begirt, 
 "Who threaten vengeance on the Queen and you, * 
 If you condemn the nobles. 
 
 Cal. Is that all] 
 
 Mar. I fear you not understand the danger ; 
 Their numbers are so vast. 
 
 Cal. Their numbers 1 Pshaw ! 
 
 The numbers of a greasy, clownish crowd. 
 Were they as countless as the flies of Egypt, 
 They would not dare to throw a single pebble 
 Against the castle, from whose summit floats 
 The banner of the King. [Shouts outside. 
 
 Mar. You hear, my Lord ? 
 
Act III.] C ALDER ON. 67 
 
 Cat. And with great pleasure ; sounds of tumult are 
 The most musical marriage bells to greet 
 A soldier's wedding day. 
 
 Mar. Whose wedding day ? 
 
 Col. Your own. 
 
 Mar. Mine 1 
 
 Cat. Yes. Now hearken to me 
 
 I have been thinking, after what has past, [well : 
 
 The Court, with its seductive lures, no place 
 For your Beatrice ; and I therefore deem 
 It would not be improvident in you 
 To marry her with all the speed you may, 
 And to remove her hence. 
 
 [Enter the Queen, unperceived.] 
 
 Mar. Such is my wish ; 
 
 But it may be forbidden by the Queen. 
 I hear she holds Beatrice in such love 
 She would not part with her. 
 
 Gal. . But then, she is 
 
 So gentle in her nature, 'tis not like 
 She'd sacrifice the happiness of two lives 
 To her own fancy. 
 
68 CALDEROK [Act III. 
 
 Queen Is. [advancing.'] You are right, my Lord. 
 
 Cal. How now ; the Queen ? 
 
 Queen Is. Most happily arrived ! 
 
 We know the sentiments Beatrice bears 
 Towards this gentleman, whilst others have 
 Convinced us by unanswerable proofs 
 He is worthy of them. You have our consent 
 To call your lady by the name of wife 
 When it may please you, sir! 
 
 Mar. [kneeling.] Oh ! my Queen ! 
 
 How can I thank you for a grace so far 
 Beyond my best deserving % 
 
 Queen Is. Simply by 
 
 Showing yourself as worthy in command, 
 As you have done in service; from this hour 
 Be you a general to the King of Spain. 
 
 Mar. Rising astonished.] What! I a general? 
 
 Queen Is. You won the grade 
 
 Long ere we tardily confer on you 
 The right to wear it. Go now, seek your bride 
 And bring her hither, that she may receive 
 Your regular commission from our hands : 
 
Act TIL] CALDEEOK 69 
 
 It is to be her dower. [Moves to the table. 
 
 Mar. I would, indeed, 
 
 That she should bless Your Majesty for me ; 
 Since with your bounty I am so confused 
 I scarce can speak. 
 
 [He goes to C alder on, who is standing a little back.] 
 
 Col. [tapping him on the back.] Hail to you, General ! 
 
 Mar. Oh ! Calderon ! I must owe this to you 1 
 
 Cal. Refer not to it. 
 
 Mar. [wringing him by the hand.] There ! I knew I did ! 
 
 Cal. Pray, sir ! remember IVe a courtier's hand, 
 And you a soldier's grip. Leave hold, I say, 
 Or I will have you made a corporal. 
 There is the chamber where your duty lies ; 
 So go, my cherub. [Exit Don Martin, joyfully. 
 
 Ah ! my dainty Prince ! 
 First learn to wear the scholar's rawness off, 
 Ere you cope with the master. Beatrice now 
 A stranger to the court, your idle passion 
 "Will smother itself out in its own smoke, 
 And you will hardly know of this dispute 
 Than you'll be mine again. 
 
70 CALDERON. [Act III. 
 
 Queen Is. My Lord ! 
 
 Col. Lady ! 
 
 Queen Is. Have you decided on the penalties 
 Due to those nobles'? 
 
 Cal. Yes, my gracious Lady. 
 
 You'll find the judgments to be passed on each, 
 Written in order here. [Points to paper on table. 
 
 Queen Is. It is well ! 
 
 Go, therefore, and within our council hall 
 Assemble all our retinue and court, 
 "With such impressive pageantry as may 
 Suit the high occasion of the offence 
 And our decision ; for so doth it chance 
 That ceremonials and potential shows, 
 And all the tawdry attributes of power, 
 Carry with the sluggish and unreas'ning herd 
 Far more authority and reverence 
 Than the power itself. 
 
 Cat. [bowing.'] I shall in all 
 
 Endeavor to obey Your Highness ! 
 (Calderon goes to rear exit — Prince confronts him ; both 
 
 look at each other steadily a few seconds, when Calderon 
 
ActllL] CALDEBOK 71 
 
 steps aside, boivs, lets the Prince pass, and as he retires 
 
 casts a glance back and smiles. ~\ 
 
 Prince. He seems to triumph o'er me. Well, we shall 
 Who will triumph to-morrow, I, or he. [see 
 
 Good mother ! 
 
 Queen Is. Prince ] 
 
 Prince. Can you grant me your ear] 
 
 Queen Is. At another time. 
 
 Prince. Why not now 1 
 
 Queen Is. [points to her writing^ You see — 
 
 Prince. But what I have to say imports so much — 
 
 Queen Is. [rising, and folding her writing.] 
 
 You must*excuse us [bell rings], but you hear that 
 bell? 
 It doth announce the process now begins, 
 And we are summoned. 
 
 Prince. Stay, stay, Madam ! 
 
 It is of that precisely I would speak. 
 
 Queen Is. Indeed ! 
 
 Prince. Yes. Tell me, pray, how are you to decide 
 Upon your prisoners ] 
 
 Queen Is. There you may perceive ! 
 
72 CALDEROK [Act III. 
 
 [Prince takes up a paper from the table, reads it, and 
 then calmly tears it to pieces .] 
 
 Prince. There ! 
 
 Queen Is. Why, Philip ! 
 
 Prince [carelessly.] Madam ! 
 
 Queen Is. What do you mean ? 
 
 Prince. I do not wish to see your holy lips 
 Borrow the ignominies cited there 
 Upon the innocent. 
 
 Queen Is. The innocent 1 
 
 Prince. I swear it, by the sanctity of my faith. 
 
 Queen Is. Then who is guilty ] 
 
 Prince. Your son. 
 
 Queen Is. This is but jesting ; 
 
 Or, at the best, a generous sacrifice, 
 To save your friends. 
 
 Prince. 0, judge me not so gently ! 
 
 When, in the church of Burgos, we first chanced 
 Upon that fair perfection of a maid, 
 I felt I never would know peace again 
 Till she was mine. 
 
 Queen Is. Do we live to hear this 1 
 
Act III.] CALDEROK 73 
 
 Prince. I grieve to shatter your fond idol so ; 
 But ere we do accept a good opinion 
 We should deserve it. Know, mother, from the time 
 This hot infection first did fire my blood, 
 I had the guilty business on my thoughts 
 Which hath arraigned the highest names in Spain 
 At your dread bar to-day. 
 
 Queen Is. And it was you — ] 
 
 Price. Ordained and had the iniquity done. 
 
 Queen Is. Oh ! son, how you are fallen ! 
 
 Prince. I know ; but 
 
 King David, justified by years of grace, 
 Fell through temptation. And, if such a blast 
 Could overturn the gnarled and rugged oak, 
 How should a weed withstand it ] Bear with me, then ! 
 Penance may render me what once I was ; 
 But, meanwhile, do not add unto my pain 
 By making others suffer for my crime. 
 Bemember this, good mother, as you hope 
 For your son's pardon. This shot has bravely told : 
 Now, for the Grand Inquisitor to end 
 What hath so well begun. [Exit. 
 
74 CALDEROK [Act III. 
 
 Queen Is. Alas ! Alas ! 
 
 "Was ever misery so sharp as this ] 
 All the fond hopes I had set on this boy 
 Gone in a breath ! And, if it had been else ! 
 Some ghastly wound that might again be healed ; 
 Some hideous sickness, kindling our worst fears, 
 Yet some time to decline — but his young soul 
 Deflowered of its sweetness and made rank 
 By the grosser corruptions of the flesh — 
 Oh, 'tis enough to bring one to the grave ! 
 [He?* head sinks into her hands. Enter Martin and 
 
 Beatrice, who kneel before her.] 
 
 Bea. Most Gracious Lady — 
 
 Queen Is. [starting up.] Hah ! what would you have 1 
 
 Bea. Your blessing, madam. 
 
 Queen Is. For what should we bless you 1 
 
 That you have turned our quiet to despair, 
 And made the sunshine of our happy life 
 Black as the vapors that are nightly bred 
 On Lethean pools ] Out of our path, we say, 
 Lest in our anger — 
 
 Bea. Alas ! what means Your Highness? 
 
Act III.] CALDERON. 75 
 
 Queen Is. "What mean we, minion ! That you are a 
 Begotten under most pernicious stars, [leper, 
 
 To blast the promise and the grace of youth 
 With your deadly contagion. What mean we, schemer ! 
 That by the tricks which faithless beauty arms 
 Against the poor unguarded props of sense, 
 You have traduced our Prince ! 
 
 Bea. [horrified.'] Oh, my sweet Mistress ! 
 
 Queen Is. O, I know well how you can change o'color, 
 And bring the ready freshet to the eye, 
 Ajad fall into strange spasms of surprise, 
 So as almost to shake the justest notions 
 Out of all joint. But this shall serve you not ! 
 'Tis certain you have overcome our son 
 By some demoniac practice as would shame 
 To bear the public light. 
 
 Bea. m If I have done this — 
 
 Queen Is. Nay, but you have \ for how else could a 
 So reverent from his cradle to this hour, [Prince, 
 
 At all the holy offices of prayer, 
 That his vocation seemed to be miscast, 
 Forswear the golden treasures of his soul 
 
76 CALDERdN. [Act III. 
 
 For a mere toy of fancy 1 I say it is 
 Contrary to all argument and sense, 
 Nor feasible, save by such malign arts 
 As you have used upon him. 
 
 Bea. Oh, sweet Lady, 
 
 But question thoroughly into all this, 
 And if you find in any act of mine 
 The drift of any culpable intent, 
 Let me suffer for it. 
 
 Queen Is. We need no further proof 
 
 To be convinced against you, and so charge 
 As the invited penalty of your fault, 
 That you, for all your coming days, shall be 
 Immured from freedon at the Ursulines ! 
 Happily the reverent mother of that order 
 I3 now attending here and will not need 
 A hasty sending for. So be you prepared 
 To follow her forthwith into the. convent, 
 Where you may come to learn in wholesome time 
 What a sinful and treacherous thing it was 
 To raise your giddy eyes up to a Prince. [Exit. 
 
 Bea. Oh, Martin, now she is estranged from me ! 
 
Act III.] CALDERON. 77 
 
 Mar. This is the work of some malicious knave. 
 
 Bea. How can that be 1 Sure, I have never giv'n 
 Reason to anyone for such ill-will. 
 
 Mar. The reason's in your beauty, which hath caught 
 Some hot and wilful eye. For, to speak truly, 
 This is a jewel for which men have sworn 
 False testimony to a brother's harm ; 
 Forgotten holy marriage vows, and left 
 Children to famine, wives to widowed beds ; 
 For this frail bauble, pure and truthful lips 
 For the first time have lied ; and it is said 
 That saintly men have, in return for this, 
 The beaten ways of godliness forsook, 
 And sold the heavenly portion of their souls 
 Unto the evil one. There is no woe 
 But doth in some way from this fountain flow. 
 [Enter an Abbess.] 
 
 A bb. Are you the Lady Beatrice ] 
 
 Bea. I am, madam. 
 
 Abb. It is your duty, then, to go with me. 
 
 Mar. "Woman, but lay hands on her — 
 
 Abb. How is this, sir ; 
 
78 CALDEROK [Act III. 
 
 You dare defy the mandate of the Queen % 
 
 [Runs to the rear; waves her hand.] 
 Assistance here ! 
 
 Bea. Oh, Martin! I implore you, 
 
 Do not, by this rash violence, lose yourself. 
 Her Highness, as you think, has been abused, 
 And with tlie error only shall we bide 
 In her displeasure. If you love me, then, 
 Do not resist this order. 
 
 Mar. I lost you once 
 
 By risking you a moment from my side ; 
 I will not so again. 
 [Abbess comes forward with Bernardo and guards, who 
 
 have entered.] 
 
 Abb. Now, will you, sir, 
 
 In wilful stubbornness, still pit yourself 
 Against the Queen's command ? 
 
 Mar. I were content 
 
 To have the living flesh hacked off my bones 
 And baits made of the clips to diet worms, 
 If so it pleased the Queen. But thus to tear 
 The jewel of my life from out my heart, 
 
Act III.] CALDEEOK 79 
 
 And leave me nothing but the bleeding wrack — 
 I would not bear it though a thousand queens, 
 Armed with the living thunder of the gods, 
 Compelled me to the sufF Vance. 
 
 Bea. Oh, my good mother ! 
 
 Heed not what this unruly soldier says ; 
 He is not learned in civil ceremonies, 
 And little knows how to smooth his address 
 Unto a lady's ears. I will go with you ! 
 
 Mar. [advancing.'] Beatrice ! 
 
 Ber. Hold, Seiior ! 
 
 Mar. [pushing him away.] Menial, stand aside ! 
 
 Ber. Thus are we bound, sir, to obey the Queen ! 
 
 Mar. And thus I — [He engages tvith the guards, breaks 
 through them, and is about to seize Beatrice, when Calde- 
 ron enters and stays him. Position.] 
 
 Cat. Don Martin, are you mad] 
 
 Put up your weapons ! Take the lady hence, 
 And let the bidding of the Queen be done ! 
 
 Mar. But my good, sir ! 
 
 Col. Not a word, I command ! 
 
 [Waves the Abbess to go. She and Beatrice exeunt.] 
 
80 CALDERON. [Act III. 
 
 Escort the Abbess, Senor, with your guards, 
 
 Far as the convent. [Exeunt Bernardo and guards. 
 
 In vain you struggle, sir ! 
 
 You shall not follow. Come, be more a man ; 
 
 I am as shocked by this affair as you, 
 
 And by it lose as much. 
 
 [Enter Prince P.; seeing Colder on engaged, he retires be- 
 hind a pillar. ,] 
 Mar. Then tell me, wherefore 
 
 You have shown so much spirit to confirm 
 
 The cruel order] 
 
 Gal. Why, because I wished 
 
 To save you, Martin ! Are you not aware 
 
 The only consequence of your hot folly 
 
 "Would be the rack or prison, whilst you lost 
 
 Your lady too ? 
 
 Mar. Oh, sir, it was so hard 
 
 To see her torn from me ! 
 
 Gal. I know it, friend ; 
 
 But for all that, I say, cheer up and hope ! 
 
 A convent may have walls, but it has doors. 
 Mar. Oh, sir, what do you — 1 
 
ActllL] CALDEROK 81 
 
 Cal. When Dian begins 
 
 To gild this night, meet me at Ponto Corvo, 
 And you shall know. 
 
 Mar. [pointing.] You mean old church ruins, 
 Which frown so grandly o'er the Manzanares 1 
 
 Cal. The same. 
 
 Mar. Will you not tell me now 
 
 What you intend 1 
 
 Cal. No ; your impatience might 
 
 Attempt my project ere it be mature. 
 Will you be there 1 
 
 Mar. If thus I regain Beatrice 1 
 
 Cal. That I do warrant. 
 
 Mar. Truly ] 
 
 Cal. On my word. 
 
 Mar. I will be there. 
 
 Cal. Enough ; I ask no more. 
 
 Get you gone now, while you in safety may ; 
 But keep your promise as you value life. Go. 
 
 [Exit Martin. 
 Surely the ways of woman are past all 
 Sense or conceiving. Within a little hour 
 
82 CALDEROK [Act III. 
 
 The Queen, a breathing mercy and delight, 
 
 Did cherish young Beatrice, as she were 
 
 A dove upon her finger. But in a whiff, 
 
 Without one motive or a seeming cause, 
 
 She falls upon her like a hungry hawk, 
 
 And makes her bleed for it. Oh, more than strange ! 
 
 But though right royal, and to be obeyed, 
 
 I will not let iier humor caper so ; 
 
 For how she thunder now in this, and storm, 
 
 Martin shall have his own. 
 
 Prince [inter ceptingly.~\ A word with you. 
 
 Cal. [passing him &?/.] Your pardon ; I must to the 
 
 [judgment hall. 
 
 Prince. What ! to witness the triumph of your foes 1 
 You wonder — but the Queen, my royal mother, 
 Hath, at my prompt solicitation, set 
 The prisoners free. Do you not hear ? [Shouts outside. 
 
 Cal. Confusion ! 
 
 Prince. Yes ! From criminals I have promoted them 
 To be your judges. Even now, Uzeda 
 Is, by my orders, seeking you, to take 
 Your person into charge. 
 
Act- III.] CALDERON. 83 
 
 Cal. Your orders — pooh ! 
 
 Prince. It is not my presumption, but a crime 
 Gives me this power. 
 
 Cal. [star tied J\ A crime ! 
 
 Prince. By you committed. 
 
 Cal. When? 
 
 Prince. In your youth. 
 
 Cal. I challenge you to the proof ! 
 
 Prince. Be not so forward ; I have bought your secret. 
 
 Cal What secret 1 
 
 Prince. Why, that for so many years 
 
 Locked in the breast of holy Aliaga. 
 
 Cal. What, has the wretch — % 
 
 Prince. Yea ; he has told me all. 
 
 Cal. May all hell's fires be gathered in a heap, 
 To burn him and his perjury forever ! 
 
 Prince. So, you perceive I have a hold on you. 
 
 Cal. Which you intend making an instrument 
 To cause my ruin % 
 
 Prince. O, that you will decide. 
 
 Cal. I? 
 
 Prince. I will engage to keep your secret safe, 
 
84 CALDEROK [Act III. 
 
 On one condition. 
 
 Cal. What is that ! 
 
 Prince. That you 
 
 Allow me to replace jour young gallant 
 In the affair you contemplate to-night 
 At Ponto Corvo. 
 
 Gal. What then, have you heard *? 
 
 Prince. Yes ; everything relating to the plot. 
 
 Cal. Proceed, then, with your vengeance ; I refuse 
 To betray my friend. 
 
 Prince [carelessly.'] As you please. Farewell ! [Stopping. 
 You may expect Uzeda here anon, 
 Armed with such powers — [Going. 
 
 Cal. One moment ; I beg 
 
 You do not heap contumely on my fall. 
 Uzeda is my bitterest enemy, 
 And, to put this commission in his hands, 
 Would be such mockery — 
 
 Prince. O, you know not all ; 
 
 Sandoval, Santa Cruz, and the whole tribe, 
 I have predestined, like so many crows, 
 To croak yoa glibly from the scaffold off, 
 
Act III.] CALDEROISr. 85 
 
 The day you are caparisoned for death 
 Upon the Plaza ! 
 
 Gal. Not. on the Plaza — no \ 
 
 That is where thieves and ruffians only die. 
 Oh, let the question tear my limbs apart ; 
 Let me broil slowly o'er some quenchless fire; 
 Let my last agonies outdo the worst 
 Saintly martyrs have borne \ but let it be 
 Far from the tainting stare of vulgar eyes, 
 Feasting on fallen greatness. 
 
 Prince. Your patience, sir ; 
 
 You are too grand to die a private death, 
 So, fare you well ! 
 
 Gal. Oh, ask of me else you will ! 
 
 Prince. I will not bate one tittle of my bargain — 
 Your ministry, your honors and your life 
 Against that maiden's love. 
 
 Gal. If I refuse? 
 
 \JJzeda and guards , in black robes, appear in rear ; the 
 
 conspirators follow, and jeer pantomimically at G al- 
 der on.] 
 
 Prince, [pointing.'] There is my answer ! 
 
CALDERON. [Act III. 
 
 Gal. [shuddering.] Oh, is it possible ? after such a life ! 
 The envy and the marvel of all men, 
 To perish like a cut-throat or a dog, 
 Upon a common place ! 
 
 Prince. Look you to that ! 
 
 Gal. And these — these patches — these low creeping 
 To track the lion's carcass with their slime — [things, 
 This is the worst, the very worst of all ! 
 Death I despise ; but shame I cannot face ; 
 So, unremorseful fiend — 
 
 Prince. How now, Seiior! 
 
 Gal. Take you my fallen soul ! 
 [Falls on his knees beside the Prince, his head turned aside 
 
 to Uzeda.] 
 
 Prince. Hah ! you consent % 
 
 Gal. Oh! 
 
 Prince, [to Uzeda, still approaching.] Now, touch him 
 
 TJz. [starting back.] Perdition ! [if you dare ! 
 
 [All positions to be retained till fall of curtain.] 
 
ACT FOURTH. 
 
 Scene — The ruins of Ponto Corvo — a church in the dis- 
 tance; the moon rising. Enter Martin Fonseca. 
 
 Mar. This should be the place ; how cheerless and how 
 Tis not so, either ; in the convent there, [drear ! 
 
 My own Beatrice is imprisoned now, 
 And her near presence makes this dark eclipse 
 Bright as the matin hour. I wonder much 
 "What Calderon would to me here unfold ! 
 If in the range of venture it do lie, 
 I'll prove my daring every way a match 
 For his conception. Oh, my dear master ! 
 
 [Enter Calderon, with a laniern.~\ 
 
 Cat. Is it you, Martin ] 
 
 Mar. Do you not know me % 
 
 Cat. You are punctual. 
 
 Mar. Oh, not more than you. 
 
 Cat. [troubled.] Our time is precious, and I may as well 
 Unto my plan at once. 
 
88 CALDEROK [Act IV. 
 
 Mar. [eagerly.] Yes, my good Lord. 
 
 Cal. Know then, I do propose to steal Beatrice 
 From yonder convent. Let not this amaze you ! 
 I am no stranger to the solemn place, 
 And once within its precincts, can not fail 
 To gain her chamber. 
 
 Mar. But, sir, am I not 
 
 To bear you company in the attempt ] 
 
 Cal. No ; this is something for which I alone 
 Am fit by nature. Therefore, by this light, 
 
 [He holds up the lantern.] 
 "Write a few lines of counsel to your love, 
 To trust herself without reserve to me, 
 And follow at my word. 
 
 Mar. [taking pencil and paper out of pocket, and writ- 
 Til do it, Sefior. [} n 9^\ 
 And yet, methinks she would put faith in you 
 Without my bidding. 
 
 Cal. I want to be sure. 
 
 Mar. [giving paper.] Will that suffice] 
 
 Cal. [reading] . Yes \ now, Martin, for your part : 
 
 Have here two horses, well equipped for flight, 
 
Act IV.] CALDEEOK 89 
 
 Ready by my return. On their swift backs 
 You may ere dawn gain the town of Fuencarral, 
 "Where, joined in holy wedlock by some priest, 
 You may defy the arbitrary hand 
 That would asunder rend what heaven has joined. 
 
 Mar. Oh ! Calderon, you are my guiding star ! 
 I will forthwith obey you. 
 
 Cal Soft ! Don Martin. 
 
 Mar. Sir ! 
 
 Cal. Your hand ! It hath an honest, healthy glow ; 
 
 Would that I only had the heart which warms it ! 
 
 Mar. You would not profit by the change. 
 
 Cal. [aside.] Alas ! 
 
 How I wish you could always think of me 
 As you do now ! 
 
 Mar. And that will I, My Lord. 
 
 When I forget all that I owe to you, 
 I shall be lost to principle, indeed. 
 Farewell, now, Seiior. [Exit. 
 
 Cal. Farewell ! my friend. 
 
 Oh ! It is not a vulgar fear to die 
 Makes me a villain ! And were it only that — 
 
90 CALDERON. [Act IK 
 
 A little spasm, and then a long sleep, 
 
 I would not pause. But then, to perish thus ! 
 
 A painted horror, frightening just souls 
 
 With my sweet honors — like to fallen stars 
 
 Flickering in the mire — it cannot be ! 
 
 I will preserve my golden reputation 
 
 Whatever else betide. 
 
 [Bur in j the latter pari of this speech, Prince enters, attended 
 
 by Bernardo and Guards. He motions the latter to 
 
 retire.] 
 
 Prince. How now, My Lord ] 
 
 You seem sad. 
 
 Gal. Oh ! I entreat you, Prince, 
 
 That you force me no further in this business. 
 
 Prince. What ! grow you aguish as the danger nears ? 
 
 Gal. No ; but Beatrice is so young and pure, 
 It seems like sacrilege to lay our hands 
 On work so perfect. 
 
 Prince. It is a reason for 't. 
 
 Nothing in nature, howsoever fair, 
 But in the purposes of Providence 
 Was rather meant for use than ornament. 
 
Act IV.] CALDEROK 91 
 
 Cal. If you will spare her not, then pity me. 
 
 Prince. Nonsense, old fellow ! When this thing is done, 
 You 11 wonder it ever cost you a pang, 
 So simple it will seem. Come, tell me now : 
 When may I hope to find my charmer here ] 
 
 Cal. See you anything in the moonlight there ] 
 
 Prince. Yes \ 'tis my mother and her pious train, 
 Bound for St. Michael's Abbey, to assist 
 At evening vespers. « 
 
 Gal. She will pass this way? 
 
 Prince. Yes. 
 
 Cal. Then to this service go with her along ; 
 
 But on the chanting of the Miserere 
 Slip you back hither, and you shall obtain 
 The idol of your soul. 
 
 Prince, [wringing C alder on 1 8 handi\ 
 
 This sounds like wisdom. 
 Why, my good Marquis, to be open with you, 
 I always did affect you and your parts ; 
 And however I may have seemed at times 
 To steer against you in my flippant humors, 
 I had ever elected you should be 
 
92 CALDERON. [Act IV. 
 
 My only minister, when chance of time 
 
 Would make me King. Yea, and now I'll confess, 
 
 I did but trifle with your enemies, 
 
 And think no more of nominating them 
 
 To the direction of the helm of State 
 
 Than hitching monkeys to a gilded coach. [Laughs. 
 
 Believe me, Marquis, I esteem you highly. 
 
 Cal. [gravely. ~\ I'm bounden to Your Highness now 
 One word more. [and ever. 
 
 Prince. "Well ] ■ 
 
 Cal. [pointing.^ Are those your guards yonder] 
 
 Prince. Yes. 
 
 Cal. I want your ring then. 
 
 Prince. Wherefore 1 
 
 Cal. I'll need those men 
 
 To help me in my present enterprise. 
 
 Prince. There it is. [Gives ring. 
 
 Cal. Remember what I have said. 
 
 [^IsicZe.] Now all ye virtues cry a thousand shames 
 Upon the heart where you are but vain names. [Exit. 
 
 Prince. He goes to seek Beatrice. Alas ! Alas ! 
 Am I not to deface this beauteous rose 
 
Act IV.] CALDERON. 93 
 
 By plucking it from off the virginal stem, 
 
 "Where now it blows so sweet ? Ah, conscience, no ! 
 
 For it will be transplanted to my heart, 
 
 Where it shall take root in a better soil, [Kneels. 
 
 And bloom all the more fair. My gracious mother. 
 
 [Enter Queen Isabella and train, with Santa Cruz, TJzeda, 
 
 Lerdo, Sandoval, and Carlo.] 
 
 Queen Is. This humbleness proclaims a blessing, son ; 
 We trust you have repented of the fault 
 You confessed us ere while. 
 
 Prince. Madam, I have — 
 
 And most celestially I feel for it. 
 I now perceive the fancies of the world 
 Are but so many trickeries and gawds, 
 By the calm sweets of virtue. 
 
 Queen Is. How you charm us ! 
 
 Yet, Philip, we would have you to remember 
 That for a conscience to be wholly pure, 
 Enmity and contrition must not bide 
 In the same heart at once. Therefore, this grudge 
 You entertain towards Don Calderon — 
 
 Prince. Still may I satisfy you on that score; 
 
94 CALDEKOK [Act IV. 
 
 I've reconciled myself to him again. 
 
 Queen Is. You have done wisely ; never was a man 
 So necessary to a king as he ; 
 And you had done an injury to yourself 
 By letting private quarrel or dispute 
 Deprive you of his counsel ! 
 
 Santa C. Your Hoyal leave — 
 
 But Calderon was taken to account, 
 Not on a private, but a public charge ; 
 And we look on his absolution thus 
 As a general wrong. 
 
 Prince. Not so fast, good Marquis ; 
 
 My accusation was a simple feint 
 To rule his stubbornness into my will ; 
 With which confession make yourself content, 
 And at your peril, now, impute him guilt ! 
 Will you to church, good Lady 2 
 
 Queen Is. Yes, Philip ; 
 
 And now the prayer of my heart shall be, 
 That you may never fall from grace again. 
 
 Prince, [aside.'] Considerate Mother ! 
 
 Queen Is. Prince ! 
 
Act IV.] CALDERON. 95 
 
 Prince. I follow you. 
 
 [Exeunt Queen and train. 
 
 Santa C. Calderon guilty of no crime 1 
 
 TJz. % He is ; 
 
 And no one knows it better than the Prince. 
 
 San. Why, then, should he wish to conceal it thus ] 
 
 TJz. I know not \ lest at present he may need 
 The hand of Calderon rather than his head. 
 Now, you will own, could we come by that secret 
 We were soon rid of him ] 
 
 Santa 0. Ay, very true ; 
 
 What if we try to squeeze it out of the Prince 1 
 
 Car. Do not attempt it. I addressed His Highness 
 An inquisitive question on that point, 
 And got for answer a whack from his cane. 
 I did enquire no further. 
 
 San. Moreover, you 
 
 Have heard what a suspicion so expressed 
 Would cost us now. 
 
 Santa C. How, then, are we ever — 
 
 TJz. By worming it from the same person who 
 Revealed it to the Prince. 
 
96 CALDEKOK [Act IV. 
 
 nines. And who is that 1 
 
 Uz. The Grand Inquisitor. 
 
 Santa C. How do you know '? 
 
 Uz. No matter now ! When vespers have been sung, 
 Let us accost our man on the affair, 
 With such temptations he cannot resist, 
 Unless he be a saint. 
 Santa C. Then we'll succeed ; 
 
 I know Aliaga, and he is no saint. 
 
 Uz. Come, then, rejoin the royal retinue 
 Ere it attain the Abbey. We shall thus, 
 By seeming promptness for the sacred service, 
 Purchase our sov'reign's favor, if not heaven's. 
 
 Lev. Let us hope for that, too. 
 
 Santa C . Yea, I can see 
 
 No greater sin in hunting down this wretch 
 Than in destroying lizards, bats, and toads, 
 And all such noxious things. So then to church, 
 And pray for blessings on our present hope 
 Of bringing him at least into the -rope. [Exeunt omnes. 
 \Enter first Bernardo and Guards, who ranje themselves in 
 
 the shadows of the ruins, and then Martin Fonseca.] 
 
Act IV.] CALDEROK 97 
 
 Mar. I have the horses ready at command, 
 As Calderon bade me. He is no longer here, 
 And, therefore, on this enterprise engaged ; 
 How kindly of him, at his peril, thus 
 To gratify an humble cavalier, 
 Who can return him nothing but — 
 
 Ber. There's your man ! 
 [Guards, who have been sneaking up from behind, here seize 
 
 on Don Martin.] 
 
 Mar. Ho ! Caitiffs, thieves ! Now, you treacherous curs, 
 My arm is free ; approach me, if you dare ! 
 
 Ber. Do not attempt to make resistance, sir ; 
 We are officers of the government, 
 And have commission to arrest you ! 
 
 Mar. And for what reason ] 
 
 Ber. [handing paper.] Here, you may see, sir. 
 
 Mar. The moon is not so dim, but I may read, [reads. 
 Because, without leave, I have overstaid 
 My absence from the army by a day ; 
 Signed by the Queen. 
 
 Ber. Signed by the Queen, you say ] 
 
 Mar. Look ! 
 
98 CALDEROK [Act IV. 
 
 Ber. Are you and Calderon on evil terms 1 
 
 Mar. On the contrary. 
 
 Ber. • Well, this is certain, 
 
 The Queen ne'er signed a document of State, 
 Which Calderon has not first supervised, 
 And by his word approved. 
 
 Mar. But, for all that, 
 
 I know full well he never saw this writ. 
 
 Ber. Why, sir, he gave it unto me himself. 
 
 Mar. Who ! Calderon ] 
 
 Ber. Yes. 
 
 Mar. Man, you must be mad. 
 
 Why, I am one of his more special friends, 
 And 'tis a supposition most absurd 
 That he would ever shame the love he bears me, 
 By such an act as this. 
 
 Ber. Now, my good sir, 
 
 To show you the error of your conceit, 
 Know that he ordered me, by word of mouth, 
 To make sure of you ; nay, 'tis his command 
 That you be lodged in a dark prison, where 
 No sympathizing friend can ever come 
 
Act IV.] CALDEEOK 99 
 
 To hear of your arrest. 
 
 Mar. Can this be true 1 
 
 Ber. I'm sorry that my office thus compels me 
 To prove it to you. 
 
 Mar. He did speak, indeed 
 
 Most strangely when I left him here, but now. 
 Ye gracious heavens ! Have I been ensnared, 
 Or have I labored but to throw my pearl 
 Into a robber's purse '] If it be thus, 
 I here cast friendship to the hollow winds, 
 And to the blood red spirits of revenge 
 Devote my life and sword. 
 
 Ber. Oh ! will you kill him '? 
 
 Mar. Should knavery survive a deed like this ? 
 
 Ber. Indeed it should not, and I cry good speed ! 
 He had my brother basely put to death, 
 Upon a slight and frivolous pretence, 
 And I would see him rot ! 
 
 Mar. Such your feeling, 
 
 Release me from this durance, that at once 
 I may assail him ! 
 
 Ber. Your pardon, sir ! I am 
 
100 C ALDER OK [Act IV. 
 
 An officer, and must obey all orders, 
 Even when issued by those I abhor ! 
 But thus I will advise you, sir. Propose 
 The vengeance, you burn to break on the churl 
 To some one of his enemies, who has 
 Influence with the King ; he will procure 
 On this condition your most prompt release, 
 And then— 
 
 Mar. Who is a proper one for this^ — 
 
 Ber. The Count Uzeda. 
 
 Mar. He is also my foe. 
 
 Ber. A vantage — hunt the tiger with the wolf. 
 
 Mar. But we cannot communicate together. 
 
 Ber. [looking around cautiously. ] 
 
 I'll bear all letters that may pass between you. 
 
 Mar. A generous offer ; how can I reward it ? 
 
 Ber. [patting Martin's sword hilt.~j 
 
 By giving Calderon your best dose of this, 
 "When you have met him. 
 
 Mar. Best assured on that ! 
 
 I am a soldier, but never in my life 
 Have I made enemy so sure a corse 
 
Act IV.] CALDEHON. 101 
 
 As I shall hack out of this whilome friend, 
 
 If I do find him haggard. So, then, away ! 
 
 That I may sooner bring this beast to bay ! [Exeunt. 
 
 [Bernardo takes two guards ivith M?n, and motions the rest 
 
 to remain about the ruins. Enter cautiously C alder on 
 
 and Beatrice, the latter in a cloak. Colder on puts the 
 
 lantern on a rock.] 
 
 Col. The guards nowhere in sight '? Doubtless they've 
 The work unto their duty I assigned ; [done 
 
 Alas ! poor Martin ! 
 
 Bea. Noble sir ! 
 
 Cal. Did you speak ? 
 
 Bea. Yes, Senor ; is this the place ? 
 
 Cal. It is, Lady. 
 
 Bea. It is strange, then, Martin should not be here. 
 
 Cal. He will be here, anon. 
 
 Bea. He's most remiss ; 
 
 It seems that if he loved me really well, 
 He would outspeed, not fall behind the hour. 
 
 Cal. Be not impatient — he will surely come. 
 You should be weary — come now, rest awhile 
 Upon this ruin. I will take your cloak. 
 
102 CALDEROK [Act IV. 
 
 The air does not affect you? 
 
 Bea. O, no, Senor ; 
 
 It has a balmy freshness, pleases me much. 
 You are most kind to ask. 
 
 Cal. I kind to you 1 
 
 Bea. So, at all times you most approve yourself 
 When I do need a friend. What were I now, 
 But for your interest in my behalf ] 
 Let my heart answer. 
 
 Cal. You know not what you say. 
 
 Some day you will reproach my memory 
 As the perdition of your heavenly soul. 
 
 Bea. Oh ! when I do, then let my soul become 
 Unworthy of heaven. Alas ! you do not know 
 All that I suffered in this weary world, 
 Till, by your sympathy, I was led to hope 
 For happier days. 
 
 Cat. You have, then, suffered much % 
 
 Bea. I have been so demeaned by paltry want, 
 I shamed to face it with my parents' name, 
 And so chose that by which you know me now. 
 
 Gal. Had you no father to supply your needs 1 
 
Act IV.] C ALDER ON. 103 
 
 Bea. Alas ! 
 
 Cal. You sigh] 
 
 Bea. You spoke of my father ; 
 
 It always gives me pain to hear of him. 
 
 Cal. Wherefore, sweet maid ? 
 
 Bea. Because it has not been 
 
 My happy lot ever to see his face. 
 
 Cal. He died in your young infancy, perhaps ? 
 
 Bea. Nay, Seiior ; but he left my mother's side 
 Ere I was born, and, going to the wars, 
 Was never heard of more. 
 
 Cal. He had some cause ? 
 
 Bea. O, no ! 
 
 Cal. He acted on suspicion ] 
 
 Bea. Yes. 
 
 Cal. But what suspicion ^ I beg that you proceed ! 
 
 Bea. That my sweet mother — who was truth itself — 
 Deceived him in his honor with a Moor, 
 Whom, in the fury of this mad belief, 
 He did surprise and slay. 
 
 Cal. Ye holy heavens ! 
 
 Tell me, Beatrice, where did all this pass 3 
 
104 CALDERON. [Act IV. 
 
 Bea. At Salamanca. 
 
 Cal. And your father's name % 
 
 Bea. Roderigo dAlcara. 
 
 Cal. [greatly agitated.'] Oh ! ye great gods ! 
 
 Bea. What is it, sir 1 
 
 Cal. Retire from here. 
 
 Bea. But, Senor'? 
 
 Cal. I'm a pollution to your presence, now ; 
 I never knew the demon that I was 
 Until your story. 
 
 Bea. "Why should it move you so 1 
 
 Hah ! what swift fancy doth connect this face 
 With my dear father's image. 
 [She runs quickly to the lantern and looks at a likeness.] 
 
 Ye blessed saints ! 
 I pray, sir, that you ease my doubting soul, 
 And tell me if you ever looked on this, 
 Ere I now show it to you 1 
 
 Cal. [throiving it away.] Away with that ! 
 The conscience which was hid beneath those traits 
 Was pure as snow. 
 
 Bea. It is as I divined. 
 
Act IV.] C ALDER OK 105 
 
 You are, then — ] 
 
 Gal. [shrinking away.~\ An assassin. 
 
 Bea. [throwing herself on his breast.~\ No, my father ! 
 
 Cat. [after a slight -pause.] O, sweet Beatrice ! were 
 I had lived long enough for earthly joy. [this only true, 
 But then I fear that title doth belong 
 Unto another. 
 
 Bea. O, my dear father ! 
 
 Taint not the memory of the purest wife 
 That ever loved her lord. The scholar Fosco, 
 In whom you placed so absolute a trust, 
 Confessed in dying that he loved your Inez, 
 And coined that calumny about the Moor 
 To be revenged on her, that she preferred 
 Your hand to his. 
 
 Cal. I hear you. 
 
 Bea. On the deed, 
 
 You fled your city, changed, it seems, your name, 
 So that my mother sought with fruitless care 
 To find where you had gone. Oh, how she loved you ! 
 My own first recollections is a prayer 
 That she taught me for you ; and when she came, 
 
106 CALDERON. [Act IV. 
 
 In the fulsome course of her time, to die, 
 She gave me this lock of her lustrous hair, 
 And charged me, if it ever was my chance 
 To see my father, I should give it him, 
 As a memorial that she was true, 
 And loved him to the last. 
 
 Gal. Oh, Inez ! Inez ! 
 
 Yet, how these miseries of mine exceed 
 All you have borne ! Ah, it is easier far 
 To. suffer an injustice to ourselves, 
 Than bear the sense of an injustice done 
 To those we love. 
 
 Bea. Oh, my dear father ! 
 
 Only take courage; you may still find peace. 
 
 Gal. Where % In the grave % 
 
 Bea. No ; here in this bright world. 
 
 You will have Martin and my little self 
 To love you still. Yea, you shall live with us ; 
 And, in the tenderness of our devotion, 
 You may sometime come almost to forget 
 Your past has been unhappy. 
 
 Gal. Oh, my Beatrice ! 
 
Act IV.] CALDERON. 107 
 
 You know not how your words do rend my heart. 
 And it is you that, for the sake of power, 
 I had almost — oh, Heaven ! — hark to that bell ! 
 [Bell rings, and then the miserere is heard on the organ.] 
 Come ; leave this place ! 
 
 Bea. Without Martin, father t 
 
 Cal. He will not be here. 
 
 Bea. Why, you said he would. 
 
 Cal. I did deceive you. 
 
 Bea. But — 
 
 Cal. Obey me, child ! 
 
 [Enter Prince of Sjxiin.] 
 Every stroke of that bell peals forth a fate 
 Mortal to us both ! 
 
 Bea. But a moment more, 
 
 And perhaps Martin — [screams.'] Oh, my father ! 
 
 Cal. Well] 
 
 Bea. Protect me from that man! 
 
 Cal. [decisively.] Stand you there ! 
 
 [He places her slightly in the rear of his own position. 
 
 The Prince advances in a rollickiny manner^] 
 
 Prince. You've done your duty like a man of style. 
 
108 CALDERON. [Act IV. 
 
 Believe me, when I come to mount the throne 
 
 I'll value you as grandly for this prize 
 
 As though your subtle policy had won 
 
 A province for me. But how is this, now 1 
 
 Our little dove is something o'er afraid ; 
 
 In the beginning 'tis a consequence, 
 
 But, like a musty fashion, will wear off 
 
 "When she doth know me better. Come, then, fair maid, 
 
 And in the favor of your Prince's eye, 
 
 Beign a beloved goddess. 
 
 Cat. Stay, Prince ! 
 
 Prince, How ? 
 
 Cal. I have learnt matters which must change, per- 
 The covenant between us. [force, 
 
 Prince. What mean you, sir ; 
 
 To rob me of the profits of my trade i 
 But come, now, Calderon ; consider well 
 The glories and preferments which I have 
 At my bestowal. 
 
 Gal. You can keep them all ! 
 
 I would not bargain for a Caesar's crown 
 The honor of my child. 
 
Act IK] CALDEROK 109 
 
 Prince. Your child ! She ] 
 
 Col. Some private discource we have had together 
 Reveals as much. 
 
 Prince. I'll not be so put off. 
 
 This is a cunning coinage of your own, 
 To match some disposition of the maid 
 You have new fancied. Who is there can tell 
 But that you have designs on her yourself, 
 And by this fiction — ? 
 
 Cat. Do not speak so, Prince. 
 
 Prince. I will speak, sir, as my convictions prompt, 
 And so act by them. Therefore, mark me well ; 
 I will not let a flimsy tale, like yours, 
 Defraud me out of the unquestioned right 
 Which makes her mine. [About to advance. 
 
 Cat. Advance no further, sir. 
 
 Prince. What is there to stay me 1 
 
 Cat. [drawing his sword and calmly presenting it to the 
 Prince's breast.'] A father's sword ! 
 
 Prince, [astonished.] You draw on me ] 
 
 Col. In such a cause as this, 
 
 I would draw on the proudest king alive. 
 
110 CALDEROK [Act IV. 
 
 Prince. I like your spirit for it clicks to mine. 
 Yon jewel, then, to the most valiant steel. 
 
 Cal. Don Philip, pause. You know I am a man 
 
 Who am not scrupulous of heaven or hell, 
 
 "When on a purpose I once stand resolved. 
 
 Be you warned, therefore ; 
 
 For, by St. lago, if I can preserve 
 
 My daughter's honor only through your life, 
 
 Why, I will kill you. 
 
 Prince, [whirling his sword.] I despise your threats, 
 
 ■ 
 And to the utterance defy your worst. 
 
 Cal. Consider, Philip ; mine is no empty boast. 
 You know the hidden history of my life, 
 And that the weapon you're about to cross 
 Hath reddened in blood before. 
 
 Prince, [shaking his sword.] My tongue is here, 
 And doth reserve its answer for your heart. 
 So for you, villain ! 
 
 Cal. [rushing at the Prince.'] Will you have it so 1 
 Then in yon anthem hear your funeral dirge. 
 
 Bea. [falls on her knees, crosses her hands on her bosom 
 and looks up to heaven d,uring the combat.] 
 
Act IV.] CALDERON. 111 
 
 Oil, Heaven ! shield my father in this hour. 
 [Enter Queen, train and Uzeda, Santa Cruz, Sandoval, 
 Carlo, Lerdo — all hurriedly — the music of the organ 
 swells higher^] 
 
 nines. What means this tumult ? 
 
 'Santa C. Ho ! the Prince is 
 
 [engaged. 
 Queen [advancing wildly.] Divide them, gentleman, we 
 
 [pray, command you. 
 [All draw, and as they reach the combatants the Prince 
 falls.] 
 
 Prince. You are too late; it was Don Calderon. 
 nines. Don Calderon ! 
 
 Ccd. [ivho has retired to the rear with Beatrice, and his 
 sword in hand.] 
 Yes, it was I — 
 Queen Is. Horror ! 
 
 Calderon, the assassin of our Prince ! 
 Col. No, lady ; the protector of his child. 
 
 [Mounts the ruins. 
 Uz. Shall he outbrave us % Ho, there, guards ! 
 
 [Enter guards rapidly. 
 
112 CALDEROK [Act IV. 
 
 First Guard. Did you call ] 
 
 Uz. Yes ; fire on that man ! 
 
 nines [excitedly. ~\ Yes, yes, quick, quick ! 
 
 Prince [feebly rising, then falling into the Queen's lap.] 
 
 No, no! 
 
 Uz. Do you hear, slaves ] 
 
 First Guard. The Prince, sir — 
 
 Uz. [threatening with his sword.] Fire ! I say, 
 
 Or I will make cur offal of you all ! 
 Do as I bid you. 
 
 Car. [hitting a guard with his sword.] Wretch ! 'twill 
 
 [be too late ! 
 [The guards fire ; C alder on disappears in a depression, 
 
 and then re-appears higher up, holding Beatrice on his 
 
 arm, in a fainting condition ; the moon throws its light 
 
 over their faces, and the curtain falls on the position.] 
 
ACT FIFTH. 
 
 Scene — The interior court yard of Calderon's palace. As 
 the act opens, Ricardo observed, on a slight elevation, 
 addressing the servants, who hold pikes in their hands. 
 
 Ric. Now that you know the danger which hangs o'er 
 Our noble master, answer, one and all, 
 Will you defend him 1 
 
 Omnes. We will ! 
 
 Ric. My brave people ! 
 
 If you want other arms than those you have, 
 You will find all descriptions in the chamber 
 Beneath the chapel. First, bar up that gate ; [They do so. 
 It will preserve you against all assault 
 Till my return. 
 
 First Serv. Where do you go, Ricardo ] 
 
 Ric. To wait the coming of Don Calderon, 
 At the armory door. 
 
 First Serv. Is he still without 1 
 
 Ric. Yes, but I do expect him every moment. 
 
 8 
 
114 C A L D E R N. [Act V. 
 
 Be of good patience then, until such time 
 
 As I rejoin you. [Exit 
 
 Omnes. Come, for the arms. 
 
 Second Serv. Soft — 
 
 One word, my friends. 
 
 Omnes. Height 
 
 Second Serv. You do not know, perhaps, 
 The reason of this peril to our master ] 
 
 First Serv. The hatred of the nobles, which has 
 
 [triumphed. 
 
 Second Serv. No; because his life is forfeit to the law 
 For killing our young Prince. 
 
 Omnes. Oh, horror ! No ! 
 
 It is impossible — it cannot be ! 
 
 Second Serv. Your pardon ; most fully have I been 
 This being then, are we not foolish all [informed. 
 
 To play his champions thus 1 We were engaged 
 To brew his dinners, keep his clothes in trim, 
 To tend his horses, or to sweep his floors ; 
 And so on each, each according to his ofhce. 
 But nowhere do our stipulations read 
 We are to die for him. 
 
Act V.] CALDEROK 115 
 
 First Serv. Yes, that we'll do! 
 
 By thus defending him from justice here. 
 
 Second Serv, Yea, even by being found in his house. 
 
 Omnes. Will we % Let us fly then. 
 [They throw down their pikes and rush to the barred gate 
 
 in the rear, when it is banged from without^] 
 
 Second Serv. It is too late. 
 
 Sando. [without.'] Open this gate, 
 
 First Serv. [trembling .] Oh, what M® we to do ? 
 
 Would that I were in Lapland or in. China-— 
 Anywhere but here. 
 
 [All co/is]3. ivithout.] Open* open^ we say, 
 
 First Serv. That frightful ha&giijg ! oh, that horrid 
 How't hurts my feelings. [noise ! 
 
 Second Serv. It is best to ©pen. 
 
 Omnes. Oh, not for the world ! 
 
 Second Serv. I will dare the risk. 
 
 [He pidls aside the bar, gate opens, and Sandoval, Santa 
 
 Cruz, Carlo, and Lerdo rush in with drawm swords^ 
 
 followed by guards, The servants all hudMe together > 4 
 
 and fall on their knees.] 
 
 Santa C. This way, Seiiors. 
 
116 CALDEROJST. [Act V. 
 
 All Serv. Oh, noble gentlemen ! 
 
 Santa C. Slaves ! 
 
 Where is your master ! 
 
 Car. ' Tell us, you cowards, 
 
 Lest with our sabres — 
 
 All Serv. Oh, mercy ! mercy ! 
 
 Santa C. Answer us then, where is Don Calderon ? 
 
 All Serv. We do not know, sir. 
 
 Santa C. How, you do not know 1 
 
 Second Serv. Upon our oaths ! 
 
 Santa G. Will the villain escape us ? 
 
 Now, by the gods, I feel my courage glow 
 To beard the panther, to enter the den 
 Where the huge anaconda coils himself, 
 And clutch him by the throat. Oh, such is my spirit 
 That, knew I only where to seek the traitor, 
 He would never escape me. 
 
 First Serv. P ra y? My Lord, 
 
 Though we know not for certain where he is, 
 He may be in his palace for all that. 
 
 Santa C. [ flinching. .] What, in his palace — in his palace 
 Go, rascals, search, and if you find this true, [here 1 
 
Act V.] CALDEROK 117 
 
 Seize on the knave, and bring him here in irons. 
 
 First Serv. Now, gentle nobles. [Exeunt guards. 
 
 Santa C . Rise, you icicles ! 
 
 Watch you this entrance, till our guards return. 
 And should it be attacked by Calderon's friends, 
 Defend it with your lives. 
 
 First Serv. That we will, sir. 
 
 Heigh, fellows? 
 
 All Serv. Yes ! yes ! 
 
 Santa C. Get you to your posts, then. 
 
 [Servants whisper to each other, and as soon as they get 
 
 between the conspirators and the gate they rush out and 
 
 disappear. Ricardo appears at a window above and 
 
 shakes his fist at the servants as they go out.~\ 
 
 Car. Ho, ho ! Treason ! 
 
 Santa 0. Come back ! you varlets, you ! 
 
 San. Oh, let them go ! We do not need their force. 
 Confess that nothing could have served us better 
 Than the deed of this night. 
 
 Ler. - Yea, Calderon 
 
 Hath undone himself, as it were, to please us. 
 
 Car. As for myself, in future I will pray 
 
118 CALDEROK [Act V. 
 
 "Whenever I may have an enemy 
 That he may have a pretty daughter too, 
 "Who will excite some puissant prince like ours 
 To her undoing ; that is to premise 
 If the goodman, like Calderon, will object. 
 [Enter Uzeda.~\ 
 
 Santa C. What, ho, Uzeda, how now fares the Prince ? 
 
 Uz. Most wonderfully well ; you are amazed, 
 But th' assassin's thrust was fortunately stopped 
 By a small silver star his Highness wore 
 Upon his breast ; so that striking askant 
 It caused no other injury than a faint, 
 Whence came the common story of his death. 
 
 Car. He is alive, then ? 
 
 Uz. As much as you or I ! 
 
 Santa C. Bemember we hear nothing of all this. 
 Let us proceed against Don Calderon 
 As though cognizant of the Prince's death ; 
 So that the gravity of our deed may stand 
 Excused as an outburst of loyal zeal, 
 And not misnamed revenge. 
 
 Uz. Happily, sir, 
 
Act V.] CALDEEOK 119 
 
 I know a way by which this deed can be 
 
 Thoroughly done and leave us unconcerned : 
 
 All I require of you is to say naught 
 
 Before the person I have chos'n for this, 
 
 Concerning the relation that exists 
 
 'Twixt Cald'ron and Beatrice. Your patience, now ! 
 
 [Exit 
 
 Car. I like not mystery. 
 
 Santa C. Uzeda's wise, 
 
 And doth consider well in all he does. 
 I warrant that his substitute is one 
 To do the deed for us. 
 
 Car. I do not think it, 
 
 For I have some notion of who he is. 
 A sort of pudding Hercules ; a man 
 That can make menace with a mace or club, 
 And yet would shrink from action with a straw ; 
 A man, sirs, that would take to headlong flight 
 E'en at my warlike shadow \ and were he here 
 To brook the fire and fury of mine eye, 
 The fat would melt and trickle off his bones 
 As tallow runs down from a candle-wick. 
 
120 CALDEROK [Act V. 
 
 Believe me, sirs, our friend hath chosen ill ; 
 
 [Enter Uzeda and Martin Fonseca.~\ 
 An arrant coward — yea, a very — ough ! 
 
 [He skips behind the others. 
 
 TJz. Allow me to present to you a friend. 
 
 Santa C. Yes, to Don Calderon ! 
 
 Mar. Your pardon, Marquis ! 
 
 A friend to every enemy of his, 
 And therefore such to you. 
 
 Car. [from behind.] Do not believe him. 
 
 Santa C. So rapid a conversion — 
 
 TJz. This noble Senor 
 
 Hath only learned what we so long have known : 
 That Calderon is a perfidious knave, 
 Who never makes a friend but for some use, 
 And that a vile one. 
 
 Mar. Yea, gentlemen, 
 
 He has basely inflicted on me wrongs 
 Which I would shame to bear without rebuke, 
 And call myself a man. 
 
 Santa C. Are you in earnest 1 
 
 Mar. Bring me in reaching distance of the wretch, 
 
Act V.] CALDEROK 121 
 
 And you shall see as red a piece of work 
 As ever stained a sword. 
 
 Santa C. Give us your hand ; 
 
 Born an old Roman, you have been the one 
 To smite a Cresar down. \Re-enter Guards. 
 
 How now, what news 1 
 [Carlos approaches Martin and shakes his hand.] 
 Saw you anything of Don Calderon 1 
 
 First Guard. No, Senor! However, from a menial 
 Whom we caught lurking in an obscure place, 
 "We learned his master hath in purpose now 
 To claim the ancient privilege of asylum 
 In the church of St. Gines. 
 
 Uz. He has, indeed, 
 
 But one such desperate measure for his life. 
 Come then, disperse in parties, and possess 
 All avenues leading to the church, that we 
 May the more surely cross him. 
 
 Mar. But I demand 
 
 That who soever apprehends him first 
 Shall tarry in his vengeance till I come 
 And have my lunge at him ! 
 
122 CALDERON. [Act V. 
 
 Santa G. Oh, very well 1 
 
 Car. Ay ! You shall have all the killing to yourself. 
 
 JJz. Come away ! [Exeunt all, boisterously. Enter Ric. 
 
 Ric. So they have gone ! It was a happy trick 
 By which I put the jackals off their scent. 
 Yet, let me see around, lest that by chance 
 TheyVe set some sentinel on guard to spy 
 Upon my lord's return. [Goes about, looking at different 
 
 points. Enter C alder on.] 
 
 Col. Eicardo ! 
 
 Rie. [running up to him.] Oh, Sir ! 
 
 How I rejoice to see you safe again. 
 Where is the lady ? 
 
 Cal. In my ante-room. 
 
 Have they been here ? 
 
 Ric. They have. 
 
 Gal. Call me a servant. 
 
 Ric. Alas, Sir ! 
 
 Gal. What ! 
 
 Ric. I am sorry to say 
 
 I am the only servant you have left. 
 
 Cal. Where are the others ? 
 
Act V.] C ALDER OK 123 
 
 Ric. Frightened by the clouds 
 
 That seemed to lower hourly o'er your head, 
 They have abandoned you. 
 
 Cal. 'Tis natural ! 
 
 When the tree falls, the daws will go to roost 
 Elsewhere than in its branches. So, Ricardo, 
 'Tis you I must request to bear this letter 
 Unto the jailer of St. Michael's prison, 
 Ordering him, on the instant, to release 
 Martin Fonseca ! 
 
 Ric. # I will obey you, Sir. 
 
 Cal. Mark you, besides, when Martin is delivered 
 Advise him of my presence in this place, 
 And that I long to see him. 
 
 Ric. Adieu, My Lord ; 
 
 Faithfully your commission shall be done. [Exit 
 
 Cal. I fondly hope so. All must be explained, 
 Beatrice under his protection placed, 
 So that when I have met my certain fate 
 She will be safe. [Enter Beatrice. 
 
 Beatrice ! 
 
 Bea. [embracing Colder on.] Oh, my father ! 
 
124 CALDEROK [Act V. 
 
 As at the gallery window I kept watch, 
 Queer noises came up to me from the street \ 
 "Whilst through the dark a thousand giddy lights 
 Shot everywhere like arrows. Surely, there is 
 Some great commotion now astir, which wakes 
 The town from her propriety and rest 
 To such strange scenes as these. 
 
 Cal. "Wonder you so 1 
 
 Bea. Alas ! if you will force me to be frank, 
 I fear some dreadful mischief, at this hour, 
 Is being hatched against you. . 
 
 Cal. What of that 1 
 
 The worst that can befall me I deserve. 
 
 Bea. How can you say so 1 
 
 Cal. And how can you ask, 
 
 Knowing the secret villainy I designed 
 This night against yourself? 
 
 Bea. And what was I, 
 
 A poor, obscure and unbefriended girl, 
 To weigh against the value of your life 
 And all its gathered honors ? Oh ! in all Spain 
 There is not one that, tempted as you were, 
 
Act V.] CALDEROK- 125 
 
 Would not have fallen too. 
 
 Cal. You pardon me, then ] 
 
 Bea. The will to pardon implies an offense, 
 Which, in the fullness of my present joy, 
 I have no heart to feel. 
 
 Cal. You love me ! 
 
 Bea. [gazing at him fondly .] Do 1 1 
 
 Cal. Oh ! had we never been parted from each other, 
 What sufferings we had saved unto ourselves ! 
 But, if we will plant thorns, we must expect 
 To be torn by them. [Enter Ricardo. 
 
 Ric. My Lord ! 
 
 Cal. Ricardo ! 
 
 Ric. I have been to the prison and informed ; 
 Don Martin has" already been enlarged 
 By the interest of the Count Uzeda. 
 
 Cal. The Count Uzeda 1 
 
 Ric. So the jailer said. 
 
 It is a curious business you must own. 
 
 Cal. It is, indeed. 
 
 Bea. Yet, if Martin is free, 
 
 He will come and rejoin us, will he not Is 
 
126 CALDEROK [Act V. 
 
 Gal. If lie does not, then must I have him sought for. 
 I do intend that you shall both depart, 
 Ere morning, from Madrid. 
 
 Bea. You will go with us ? 
 
 Gal. I promise that I soon shall follow you, 
 To happiness. Go now, my sweet Beatrice, 
 And in yon hidden chamber guard yourself 
 Till I make preparations for your flight. 
 Oh ! go, my daughter ! [Kisses her. Exit Beatrice. 
 
 Oh ! Heaven ! 
 
 Ric. My Lord. 
 
 Gal. I feel a painful heaving at my heart. 
 'Tis sad to part with her so very soon 
 After we are united. 
 
 Ric. Indeed, My Lord, 
 
 You must exert yourself or you are lost. 
 Nowhere upon my path heard I a voice 
 That was not raised loud in your malediction. 
 
 Gal. So the world changes ! Only yesterday 
 The proudest noble cringed beneath my frown, 
 As a divinity looked down on him ; 
 But now the meanest scullion has a right 
 
Act V.] CALDEEOK 127 
 
 To throw his clout at me. It is as well ! 
 
 I have pursued the meteor of renown 
 
 Until I smother in the deadly mists 
 
 "Which gave it birth. Bicardo ! 
 
 Ric. My Lord 1 
 
 Cal. Go and prepare my desk. I would draw up 
 
 My final testament ere it be too late ; 
 
 I'll follow you. [Exit Ricardo, reluctantly. 
 
 It must be as in mind 
 
 I have resolved ! Yea, since my violent deed 
 
 Is capital under the law of Spain, 
 
 I will to the decision bend myself, 
 
 And so in one short effort find the peace 
 
 For so long wanted here. This might not be, 
 
 Were I the creature of my yesterday ; 
 
 But now my Inez and the guiltless Moor 
 
 Require the satisfaction of my life, 
 
 And in the judgment of this last offence 
 
 They both shall have it. Besides, to fly — 
 
 It is too shameful to engage a thought ! 
 
 No, like a Spartan, since I needs must fall, 
 
 I shall be struck in front. [Going. 
 
128 CALDERON. [Act V. 
 
 [Enter Martin Fonseca.~\ 
 
 Mar. [intercepting him.] Heaven be praised ! 
 I am not so abandoned as I thought, 
 Since I find you at last. 
 
 Gal. How now, Martin ? 
 
 Mar. I have no time for words ; out with your sword, 
 For I would kill you fairly. 
 
 Cat. I do confess 
 
 That I have done you injuries most grave, 
 "Which I repent. 
 
 Mar. What is repentence to me % 
 
 Carry repentance to your priests and monks \ 
 I am a soldier, and will have revenge. 
 
 Gal. I promise that you shall be satisfied 
 More than you dream of. 
 
 Mar. I only want your life, 
 
 And that lies in my taking — not your gift. 
 Come, fiend, draw ! 
 
 Gal. What if I refuse ? 
 
 Mar. I tell you plainly, that will save you not ! 
 I give you a chance to defend yourself, 
 And you must either meet me like a man, 
 
Act V.] CALDEROK 129 
 
 Or perish like a dog. 
 
 Cal. Are you so fixed ? 
 
 Mar. [approaching.] I am. 
 
 Cal. Enough. 
 
 Mar. Will you oppose me? 
 
 [Enter Beatrice in alarm.] 
 
 Cal. [glancing at Beatrice.] Yes ! 
 
 [Folding Beatrice quickly to his arms, and looking defiant^] 
 And here 's the weapon I shall fight you with. 
 
 Mar. Recoiling.] Beatrice ! 
 
 Bea. Yes ; down upon your knees 
 
 And crave my pardon ; you have drawn a sword 
 
 » 
 
 Upon my father. 
 
 Mar. Your father ! Heavens ! 
 
 Cal. Yea, Martin, unworthy though I be 
 Of such a title. How discovery solved 
 This buried wonder of so many years 
 "We shall discuss anon. But, for the while, 
 Credit my privilege upon my word, 
 And, in acquittal of all angry scores, 
 Receive her from my hands. 
 
 Mar. Oh ! Calderon ! 
 
130 CALDERON. [Act V. 
 
 Thus, on my knees, I testify my grief 
 For what, in my distraction — 
 
 Cal. O, it is I 
 
 "Who should go down upon my knees to you ; 
 But neither have time now for idle shows. 
 Lo ! the, young day already in the east 
 Begins to smile at night. You both must hence, 
 Ere this escape alarm the sleeping nuns ; 
 And by the sacrament confirm your loves 
 Beyond all future fear. 
 
 Mar. But yourself, sir ? 
 
 Cal. I remain here. 
 
 Bea. . Oh! no! 
 
 Mar. That you must not ; 
 
 Your enemies are busy in your search, 
 Besolved to make your trouble with the Prince 
 A pretext for to kill you. 
 
 Cal. I fear them not. 
 
 Bea. But you will go with us 1 
 
 Cal. No. 
 
 Bea. You will not 1 
 
 Then I refuse to move one foot from here. 
 
Act V.] CALDERON. 131 
 
 Col. Oh, now, Beatrice — % 
 
 Bea. No ; I am the rock 
 
 That has shipwrecked your fortunes, and should you fall, 
 Your blood would, like a crimson river, roll 
 'Twixt me and conscience for all days to come. 
 I will not leave you ; no, my father, no. 
 If you must die here, why, I will remain 
 And die with you. 
 
 Mar. Let my poor voice with hers 
 
 Prevail upon you to depart with us. 
 There is no shame in yielding to your foes 
 A field whereon you may meet them again 
 To better vantage. [Unter Ricardo. 
 
 Ric. My Lord, you must away. 
 
 The Prince is coming up the street, as I believe, 
 To order you to death. 
 
 Mar. Oh ! what have you done ] 
 
 Escape has now become impossible, 
 And that death you have fondly seemed to court 
 Will soon be yours. 
 
 Bea. Oh, no, Martin, no; 
 
 My father so near death — -so near the grave ; 
 
132 CALDERON. [Act V. 
 
 Just when he had become so dear to me, 
 And I had thought to have so many years 
 To be happy with him ! It cannot be ! 
 I will not lose him thus. 
 
 Cat. You have heard, Beatrice % 
 
 My fate is settled ; leave me to it, then. 
 
 Bea. No, no ; there is still hope ; ay, you shall live 1 
 I will go seek the Prince, and on my knees 
 Plead for your pardon. Martin, stay me not ! 
 I'll see him, though I make my way to him 
 Through seas of guards, and he shall hear my prayer 
 Until I wring the tears from out his eyes, 
 And force from his unwilling lips the word 
 Which saves my father's life. [Exit rapidly. 
 
 Cat. Oh, follow her ! 
 
 Mar. Between two duties I am wildly tossed. 
 I know the danger which assails her thus, 
 But, then, to leave you with the butcher's knife 
 Close to your throat — 
 
 Cat. Oh, do not think on me ; 
 
 Look to your bride. She must at once be stayed, 
 Or in the furious hurry of the crowd, 
 
Act V.] C ALDER OK 133 
 
 Slie will be pressed to death. Therefore, I bid you, 
 
 As you value my blessing, or fear my curse, 
 
 See after her ; I'll attend you within. 
 
 Hence, I command you ! [Exit Martin, 
 
 Ric. Now, my Lord. 
 
 Cal. A single line 
 
 Shall make my will; so I have time enough. 
 
 Ric. But you should rather think of life, my Lord. 
 You hear those shouts ] [Shouts distant. 
 
 CaL Well, let their thunder burst, 
 
 I am prepared and care not when it strikes. 
 [Exit with Ricardo; they close doors after them. Enter 
 
 Uzeda, Sandoval, Santa Cruz, Zerdo, Guards. .] 
 
 Santa C. Foiled everywhere. This man is like an eel, 
 And slips as easily between our fingers. 
 Are we to lose him ] 
 
 •[Enter Carlo.] 
 
 Car. No ; by no means. 
 
 Santa C. How? 
 
 Know you where he is ] 
 
 Car. Yes. 
 
 Omnes. Where 1 
 
134 CALDEROK [Act V. 
 
 Car. Within. 
 
 Santa C. How know you that 1 
 
 Car. Oh, on assured proof ! 
 
 A citizen, I questioned on the street, 
 Saw him enter here. 
 
 Ler. O, for Don Martin, then. 
 
 Uz. Is he not among us ] 
 
 Santa C. No ; he is still 
 
 Beating, doubtless, somewhere around the church 
 For the arch villain. 
 
 Uz. "Well, we must proceed 
 
 As though he were not of our party, 
 And do the deed ourselves. 
 
 Santa C. Why, how is this ? 
 
 Uz. The Prince is fast approaching on this place, 
 And should he be informed of our- design, 
 He might forbid it. 
 
 Santa C. Ay, that is true enough ; 
 
 We have, at last, a grip upon our foe, 
 Acd must not loose it. 
 
 Uz. Yes, he has returned ; 
 
 This door, that was ajar when we went hence, 
 
Act V.] CALDERON. 135 
 
 Is now locked close. Come, use those pikes upon it. 
 [Each picks up pike and strikes door.] 
 
 Santa C. [hobbling ineffectually about.] Leave me some 
 room, Uzeda. 
 
 Car. XJse your crutch ; 
 
 That will become you better than a pike. 
 
 San. The door yields. 
 [The door is thrown suddenly open, and Calderon appears 
 on the threshold. All start back.] 
 
 Cal. Why am I summoned thus ] 
 
 TJz. Because you are a criminal, and must die. 
 
 Cal. I know it, sir, by sentence of the law, 
 "Which, with impatience, I wait to receive. 
 
 TJz. Know, from the hour you smote our sacred Prince, 
 That every loyal weapon, by the act, 
 Was made a judge and executioner, 
 To serve on you where found. 
 
 Cal. You know 'tis false, 
 
 And none dare take such license to themselves 
 But vile assassins ! 
 
 Santa C. Go speak such law to ghosts, 
 
 For we mean soon to add you to their ranks! 
 
136 C ALDER OK [Act V. 
 
 Down with the traitor ! 
 
 Gal. [drawing.] Come, then, if so you will ; 
 Though you are many, and I stand alone, 
 I'll meet you now as ever I have done, 
 "Without reserve or fear. 
 
 Uz. On at the knave ! 
 
 [All engage fiercely with Calderon.] 
 
 San. I am hit. 
 
 Ler. I bleed ! 
 
 Uz. A scratch ! a scratch ! 
 
 Come, gentlemen, let not your weapons cool ! 
 [Enter Prince, Martin and Beatrice.] 
 
 Bea. Oh Prince, my father, see ! 
 \G alder on is pierced and falls into Martin's arms.] 
 
 Prince. Uzeda — I command you — Stand aside ! 
 
 Bea. Oh, my father ! [Kneels to him. 
 
 Prince. How is it with you, sir 1 
 
 Cal. Heavily, Prince ; I am struck unto death ! 
 
 Bea. Oh, do not say so ! Leave me not so soon ! 
 Live for the sake of Martin and myself ! 
 We will be all so happy together. 
 
 Cal. We will, Beatrice, but not in this world. 
 
Act V.] C ALDER ON. 137 
 
 Have patience, then, until we meet again 
 
 Among the angels. 
 
 Pea. [her face on his breast.] Oh ! 
 
 Prince, [to consjrirators.] Behold the ruin 
 
 Your malice has wrought of this noble life ! 
 
 In retribution, therefore, get you gone 
 
 To endless exile in some distant land ! 
 
 And mark me, should you ever dare again 
 
 Against our spoken pleasure to set foot, 
 
 Even upon an inch of Spanish ground, 
 
 You die that hour ! [All conspirators bend head in sub- 
 mission.] 
 
 Cal. Oh, Prince ! 
 
 Prince, [going to Colder on, takes his hand.] 
 
 Calderon ! I grieve 
 
 I cannot make you what amends I would ; 
 
 But if the promise can avail you now, 
 
 Know it shall always be my dearest care 
 
 To see your daughter prospered in all things 
 
 Which make life a desire. 
 
 Cal. Bless you, my Prince ! 
 
 I ever thought your disposition kind ; 
 
138 CALDERON. [Act V. 
 
 And you have now my dying prayer, your reign 
 
 May be happy and long ! Farewell, Martin ! 
 
 Think gently of my memory at times, 
 
 For the sake of my child ! Peace to your lives, 
 
 Such as I now pray on my parting soul. 
 
 Farewell ! [Slow curtain. Music pp. 
 
 [End of tragedy. ~\ 
 
TO PSYCHE. 
 
 I. 
 
 The day hath drawn her weary lid 
 Over the sultry star we chid, 
 
 And now we may 
 
 Trip and play, 
 To all but love and rapture hid. 
 
 ii. 
 Yet I'll not lead thee where the vine 
 Clasps love-like the faint jessamine ; 
 
 ~Nor to the rill 
 
 Whose silvery trill, 
 Melts my soul as its voice were thine. 
 
 in. 
 Fond hearts that meet and lips that kiss, 
 Have made bowers there scenes of bliss, 
 
 And gay delight, 
 
 Full many a night ; 
 But other joys shall sweeten this. 
 
142 MINOR POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The poet's dream is far more sweet 
 Than the lays of brooklets at our feet, 
 
 Or the mingling fire 
 
 Of wild desire, 
 In lone and flowery retreat. 
 
 v. 
 
 Then + o its joy, love, whilst we may, 
 For the night will soon be day, 
 
 And that heavenly dream, 
 
 Doth scarcely beam 
 Upon the soul, than it dies away. 
 
MINOR POEMS. 143 
 
 TO LEILA. 
 
 I. 
 
 Ah, Leila, if the primrose wear 
 
 The summer's golden hue, 
 It breathes upon the wanton air 
 
 The summer's fragrance too. 
 II. 
 And if the dew-drop on the thorn 
 
 Glow brightly in the ray, 
 It melts like incense on the morn, 
 
 And cools the burning day. 
 in. 
 Then, sweet, oh why that crimson dye 
 
 That tints thy cheeks so fair, 
 If whilst it tempt the wistful eye 
 
 It bid the lip forbear 1 
 
 IV. 
 
 Oh why that eye so dazzling bright 
 
 Stars fly from it in shame, 
 If whilst we wanton in its light 
 
 We perish in its flame 1 
 
144 MINOR POEMS. 
 
 ODE 
 
 Leila saw a blossom shine 
 Like a snowdrop on the vine, 
 And, to wear it for a gem, 
 Plucked it from the ripening stem. 
 " Pretty fondling," then she said, 
 " Lay thy little snowy head 
 On this bosom — that shall be 
 A couch henceforth unto thee." 
 " Fondly sweet," was the reply, 
 " On thy billowy breast to lie ; 
 Yet, the bliss were trebly mine 
 Hadst thou left me on the vine, 
 Careless of thy luscious rape, 
 Till I 'd seasoned to a grape ; 
 For, love, then I had been prest 
 To thy lip, and not thy breast." 
 
MINOR POEMS. 145 
 
 CECILIA 
 
 I. 
 
 I know the grove where maidens twine 
 Their sunny locks with flowers, 
 
 "When gaily flown with love and wine 
 They sigh for happy hours. 
 
 ii. 
 I know where lintwhites tune their throats 
 
 So sweetly to the lyre ; 
 The soul that lives upon their notes 
 
 Would in their fall expire. 
 
 in. 
 Yet, let me fly that flowery grove 
 
 With its haunts so bright and fair, 
 Where I so often seek my love, 
 
 Yet never find her there. 
 
 10 
 
146 MINOR POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And oh ! let happier hearts rejoice 
 In the sweet songs of the year, 
 
 Since every note recalls a voice 
 That I must never hear. 
 
 v. 
 But, let me climb some rugged height, 
 
 That mantles o'er the sea, 
 Where wild winds, raving day and night, 
 
 May hymn a dirge to me. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Or, let me seek some weird cave, 
 
 Where I may lie and weep, 
 Until my tears shall dig my grave 
 
 And death become my sleep. 
 
MINOR POEMS. 147 
 
 INCOGNITA. 
 
 I. 
 
 She passed before me like a vision, 
 From some far-off field Elysian, 
 And then left me sad and lonely, 
 Sighing, dying for her only. 
 
 II. 
 
 Still, I see her in my dreaming, 
 Fair and mystically seeming, 
 As when heart and soul beguiling, 
 With the beauty of her smiling. 
 
 in. 
 Oh, the misery ; oh, the anguish ; 
 In a state so sad to languish, 
 With my heart, and fancy blessing 
 Charms so near, and ne'er possessing ! 
 
148 MINOR POEMS.- 
 
 ODE. 
 
 As through the new-wakening dawn 
 I hied o'er the glassy lawn, 
 By a crystal streamlet's side, 
 A sweet maiden I espied, 
 Dreaming like a dew-drop bright 
 On the flowers she pressed so light. 
 Dewy roses showered by 
 Blushes of the richest dye, 
 Tender violets at my feet 
 Breathed forth incense soft and sweet ; 
 Yet from roses brightly glowing 
 And violets so sweetly blowing, 
 I turned to her lips that did shine 
 Like two lilies dipt in wine ; 
 And bending gently down to sip 
 The bright cordial they did drip, 
 Love who artfully had made 
 
MINOR POEMS. 149 
 
 There a tempting ambuscade, 
 And now waited prim and sly 
 Until I came passing by, 
 Sprung blithe upward as a bee 
 Springs from a breeze-kissed lily, 
 And aiming a lire-feathered dart 
 Lodged it in my hapless heart, 
 "Whence my life-blood from that day 
 Slowly, sadly ebbs away. 
 
150 MINOR POEMS. 
 
 FLORA'S GRACES. 
 
 The golden beam of morning tips 
 Daffodillies sheathed in gold, 
 
 And, as at lovers' meeting lips, 
 Their honey dells unfold. 
 
 ii. 
 The skylark, climbing in delight 
 
 The rosy sky above, 
 Weaves round her ambery flakes of light, 
 
 Gay notes of joy and love. 
 
 in. 
 And blithely, too, the wakening bee 
 
 Now spreads his sparkling sails, 
 To skim day's sapphire-glimmering sea 
 
 Before the flowery gales. 
 
MINOR POEMS. 151 
 
 IV. 
 
 Yet summer songs or insect dyes, 
 The brightest flowers that shine, 
 
 How sweet to others' ears and eyes, 
 Have lost their joys for mine : 
 
 v. 
 
 For, since my Flora's charms did blaze 
 
 On me in all their pride, 
 My ravished eyes, alas ! can gaze 
 
 On nothing fair beside ; 
 
 vi. 
 And, from the morning I did hear 
 
 Her warble to the spring ; 
 No lay, how sweet, can touch my ear 
 
 Than that which she doth sing. 
 
152 MINOR POEM! 
 
 FORSAKEN. 
 
 Maidens, prepare my bridal bed 
 Amid the pale and slumbering dead, 
 With nothing at my silent head 
 
 Save a cypress or a yew ; 
 For he whom I did love so well, 
 And in whose heart my hopes did dwell, 
 Like pearls that glitter in their shell, 
 
 Hath proved untrue. 
 
 ii. 
 Lilies spring in young Phryne's way, 
 Winter ne'er chill so fair a May, 
 Life be one long sweet wedding-day 
 
 Unto the lovely one ; 
 Crown her with blossoms from the vine, 
 Make all her dreams like songs divine, 
 But tell her ne'er his heart was mine, 
 
 When I am gone ! 
 
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