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And we have all
Vict. Where is the gentleman ?
As the old song says,
His soul is in Madrid.
Vict. It is a dream, sweet child! a waking dream,
Pre. [giving him her hand.] I have still
Chis. [aside). And I have two to take.
Vict. What more of this strange story?
Vict. No; let it be a day of general joy;
SCENE VI.- A pass in the Guadarrama mountains. Barly morning. A muleteer crosses
the stage, sitting sideways on his mule, and lighting a paper cigar with flint and steel.
If thou art sleeping, maiden,
Awake and open thy door,
O'er meadow, and mount, and moor.
But come with thy naked feet;
And waters wide and fleet.
[Disappears down the pass. Enter a Monk. A Shepherd appears on the rocks above.]
Monk. Ave Maria, gratia plena. Olá! good man! Shep. Olá! Monk. Is this the road to Segovia ? Shep. It is, your reverence. Monk. How far is it? Shep. I do not know. Monk. What is that yonder in the valley ? Shep. San Ildefonso. Monk. A long way to breakfast. Shep. Ay, marry. Monk. Are there robbers in these mountains ? Shep. Yes, and worse than that. Jonk. What ? Shep. Wolves. Monk. Santa Maria! Come with me to San Ildefonso, and thou shalt be well rewarded.
Shep. What wilt thou give me?
Monk. An Agnus Dei and my benediction. [They disappear. A mounted Contrabandista passes, wrapped in his cloak, and a gun at
his saddle-bow. He goes down the pass singing.)
Worn with speed is my good steea,
Ay, jaléo! They cross our track ! [Song dies away. Enter Preciosa, on horseback, attended by VICTORIAN, HYPOLITO,
DON CARLOS, and CHSPA, on fout, and armed.]
Vict. This is the highest point. Here let us rest.
Receive the benediction of the sun !
Most beautiful indeed.
And in the vale below,
And which way lies
Vict. At a great distance yonder. '
No, I do not see it.
'Tis a notable old town,
O, yes! I see it now,
Vict. O gentle spirit! Thou didst bcar unmoved
Stay no longer!
[They descend the pass. CHISPA remains behind.] Chis. I have a father, too, but he is a dead one. Alas and alacka-day! Poor was I born, and poor do I remain. I neither win nor lose. Thus I wag through the world, half the time on foot, and the other half walking : and always as merry as a thunder-storm in the night. And so we plough along, as the fiy said to the ox. Who knows what may happen? Patience and shufile the cards! I am not yet so bald, that you can see my brains; and perhaps, after all, I shall some day go to Rome, and come back Saint Peter. Benedicite!
[Exit. [A pause. Then enter BARTOLOME wildly, as if in pursuit, with a carbine in his hand.)
Bart. They passed this way! I hear their horses hoofs!
[Fires down the pass.)
[The shot is returned. BARTOLOMÉ falls.)
A TALE OF ACADIE.
The story of “EVANGELINE” is founded on a painful occurrence which took place in the early period of British colonization in the northern part of America
In the year 1713, Acadia, or, as it is now named, Nova Scotia, was ceded to Great Britain by the French. The wishes of the inhabitants seem to have been little consulted in the change, and they with great difficulty were induced to take the oaths of allegiance to the British Government. Some time after this, war having again broken out between the French and British in Canada, the Acadians were accused of having assisted the French, from whom they were descended, and connected by many ties of friendship. with provisions and ammunition, at the siege of Beau Séjour. Whether the accusation was founded on fact or not, has not been satisfactorily ascertained; the result, however, was most disastrous to the primitive, simple-minded Acadians. The British Government ordered them to be removed from their homes, and dispersed throughout the other colonies, at a distance from their much-loved land. This resolution was not communicated to the inhabitants till measures had been matured to carry it into immediate effect; when the Governor of the colony, having issued a summons calling the whole people to a meeting, informed them that their lands, tenements, and cattle of all kinds were forfeited to the British crown, that he had orders to remove them in vessels to distant colonies, and they must remain in custody till their embarkation.
The poem is descriptive of the fate of some of the persons involved in these calamitous proceedings.
This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath it Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the
huntsman ? Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian farmers,-Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the woodlands, Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven P Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers for ever departed Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty blasts of October Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far over the ocean. Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful village of Grand-Pré.