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Dead bodies, that the kite
In deserts makes its prey ;
Scare schoolboys from their play!
Anger, and lust, and pride;
That choke Life's groaning tide!
They glare from the abyss;
“We are the Witnesses !”
THE SLAVE SINGING AT MIDNIGHT.
Loud he sang the Psalm of David !
THE QUADROON GIRL.
Lay moored with idle sail;
And for the evening gale.
Under the shore his boat was tied,
And all her listless crew
Into the still bayou.
Reached them from time to time,
Upon a world of crime.
Smoked thoughtfully and slow;
He seemed in haste to go.
In yonder broad lagoon;
And the rising of the moon.”
In timid attitude,
A Quadroon maiden stood.
Her arms and neck were bare;
And her own long, raven hair.
As holy, meek, and faint,
The features of a saint.
The thoughtful Planter said;
And then upon the maid.
With such accursèd gains';
Whose blood ran in her veins.
He took the glittering gold !
Her hands as icy cold.
He led her by the hand,
In a strange and distant land !
BEWARE! The Israelite of old, who tore
The lion in his path, -when, poor and blind, He saw the blessed light of heaven no more,
Shorn of his noble strength and forced to grind In prison, and at last led forth to be
A pander to Philistine revelry, Upon the pillars of the temple laid
His desperate hands, and in its overthrow Destroyed himself, and with him those who made
A cruel mockery of his sightless woe;
Expired, and thousands perished in the fall!
Shorn of his strength, and bound in bonds of steel, Who may, in some grim revel, raise his hand,
And shake the pillars of this Commonweal,
The Spanish Student.
Students of Alcalá.
Gentlemen of Madrid.
Count of the Gipsies.
A young Gipsy.
A Gipsy Girl.
A poor Girl.
The Padre Cura's Niece.
ACT I. SCENE I.-The COUNT OF LARA's chambers. Night. The COUNT in his dressing-gown, smoking, and conversing with Don CARLOS.
Lara. You were not at the play to-night, Don Carlos;
I had engagements elsewhere.
Why, all the town and court.
Don C. What was the play?
It was a dull affair;
* « La cólera de un Español sentado no se templa, sino le representan en dos horas hasta el final juicio desde el Génesis.”—Lope de Vega,
Three gentlemen receiving deadly wounds,
Oh, I am dead!” a lover in a eloset,
Don C. Of course the Preciosa danced to-night!
Lara. And never better. Every footstep fell
Don C. Almost beyond the privilege of woman!
Lara. May not a saint fall from her Paradise,
Why do you ask?
Don C. You do her wrong; indeed, you do her wrong! She is as virtuous as she is fair.
Lara. How credulous you are! Why, look you, frienı,
And therefore won
Don C. Nay, not to be won at all!