THE SPANISH STUDENT. LONGFELLOW. SCENE. A cross-road through a wood. In the back-ground a distant village spire. VICTORIAN and HYPOLITO, as travelling students, with guitars, sitting under the trees. HYPOLITO plays and sings. Ah, Love! SONG. Perjured, false, treacherous Love! Of all that mankind may not rue! Most untrue To him who keeps most faith with thee. The falcon has the eyes of the dove. Perjured, false, treacherous Love! Victorian. Yes, Love is ever busy with his shuttle, Is ever weaving into life's dull warp Bright, gorgeous flowers and scenes Arcadian; Hanging our gloomy prison-house about With tapestries, that make its walls dilate In never-ending vistas of delight. Hypolito. Thinking to walk in those Arcadian pastures, Thou hast run thy noble head against the wall. SONG (continued). Thy deceits Give us clearly to comprehend, Whither tend All thy pleasures, all thy sweets! Thorns below and flowers above. Perjured, false, treacherous Love! Vict. A very pretty song. I thank thee for it. Vict. Indeed, I think it does. What wise man wrote it? Hyp. Lopez Maldonado. Vict. In truth, a pretty song. Hyp. With much truth in it. Vict. I hope thou wilt profit by it; and in earnest Try to forget this lady of thy love. I will forget her! All dear recollections Pressed in my heart, like flowers within a book, I will forget her! But perhaps hereafter, Hyp. Then let that foolish heart upbraid no more! I throw into Oblivion's sea the sword That pierces me; for, like Excalibar, With gemmed and flashing hilt, it will not sink. Are heard along the shore. Hyp. And yet at last Down sank Excalibar to rise no more. This is not well. In truth, it vexes me. Instead of whistling to the steeds of Time, To make them jog on merrily with life's burden, Vict. Yet I fain would die! To go through life, unloving and unloved; To feel that thirst and hunger of the soul We cannot still; that longing, that wild impulse, And struggle after something we have not And cannot have; the effort to be strong; And, like the Spartan boy, to smile, and smile, While secret wounds do bleed beneath our cloaks; All this the dead feel not,-the dead alone! Would I were with them! Hyp. We shall all be soon. Vict. It cannot be too soon; for I am weary Of the bewildering masquerade of Life, Where strangers walk as friends, and friends as strangers; Hyp. Why seek to know? Enjoy the merry shrove-tide of thy youth! Vict. I confess, That were the wiser part. But Hope no longer Hyp. Yet thou shalt not perish. The strength of thine own arm is thy salvation. And bids the laboring hind a-field, the shepherd, Guarding his flock, the lonely muleteer, And all the crowd in village streets, stand still, And breathe a prayer unto the Blessed Virgin! Hyp. Amen! amen! Not half a league from hence The village lies. Vict. This path will lead us to it, Over the wheat fields, where the shadows sail THE TRIAL OF ANNE BOLEYN. BOKER. On one The Great Hall of the Tower, arranged for the Queen's trial. side are seated Dukes of NORFOLK, SUFFOLK, and RICHMOND, Marquis of EXETER, Earl of ARUNDEL, and other Peers, as Lords Triers, with officers, &c.; on the other, QUEEN ANNE, in the custody of Sir WILLIAM KINGSTON, Ladies, Attendants, Guards, &c. Norfolk. Are we agreed? [To the Lords.] Suffolk. Here is our verdict, sir. [Hands a paper.] [RICHMOND and SUFFOLK talk apart.] Richmond. I hope, your grace, I have damned my soul enough To please the most fastidious father. Suf. Stuff! Rich. Yes, "stuff!" substantial, downright villany. Suf. Come, be cheerful, sir. It ill becomes heroic minds to shrink From the first blood of triumph. You are young Suf. The saints look down! This pretty sermon must have washed you clean. Hist! hear the sentence. Nor. Lady Anne Boleyn, Marchioness of Pembroke, sometime England's queen Though most unworthily, as the strict course Of equal justice has so clearly proved Arise. [The QUEEN rises.] Lay off your crown and vestured marks Of royal dignity, to hear from me The solemn finding of this high tribunal. [QUEEN ANNE puts off her crown and robe of state.] Queen Anne. Your grace's first commands, though harshly meant, Are merciful indeed. Nor. Be silent, madam! Upon each several charge, whereon you stand Indicted by the law, we do pronounce Your guilt most clear; and therefore do condemn you, At such time as his majesty may name, To suffer death by burning at the stake, Or by beheading, as may please the king. God give you patience to endure your doom! Queen A. I doubt it not. O Father, O Creator, Who art the way, the life, the truth, Thou knowest If I deserve this death! Rich. O base, base, base! This pardons Herod in the eye of heaven. [Aside.] Nor. Marchioness of Pembroke, have you aught to say Touching the judgment of this court? Queen A. My lords, I will not say your sentence is unjust Presuming that my reasons can prevail Against your firm convictions;-I would rather Of each offence 'gainst which that proof was brought. A faithful wife: O! could I say as truly I had been more the queen, but less the wife. Have I e'er sinned against him. Think not, my lords, I say this to prolong My trust in Him, and taught me how to die. |