The Spanish Gypsy, by George Eliot.

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The Spanish Gypsy, 

by George Eliot. 

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In a page or two, one gets a clue; George Eliot sets out to write about a time of great upheavals in life of Europe and of Spain. She begins by painting beautiful portrayal of Spain, and of the struggle between two religions, before she mentions Columbus. Is that what it's about? Doesn't explain the title though. It takes a while, some dozen or so pages, before one begins to guess - when a soldier reports that it isn't his opinion that the duke is marrying beneath him, it's the padre who says she won't confess - it is about inquisition, and a young bride caught between her heritage and the force of church, apart from racism. 

The epic is divided in five books, and the story, the tragedy is not only budding, it's already set, unfolding, by the end of book I. 

Book I is the beautiful introduction- of the story, and before that, of the time and space throat the story is set in; it takes us through the characters, main or others, and having established a love story, reveals a secret, and leaves us at a turn at once filled with suspense, sadness, and also relief. Book II takes it from there, a prior intent on breaking up a marriage and burning the bride alive, if she's found; a bridegroom aware of this, yet intent on defying the prior, finding and marrying her, although subconsciously fearing if the friar is right. 

Book III is, in more than one sense, heart of the story, with surprise twists; the scene of confrontation between the three representing different elements - proud Gypsy chieftain, Spanish nobility, and she who is young womanhood that's love, life and joy, but is asked to sacrifice for her people. 

An interesting detail, is that a poem titled "Roses", included in the Delphi collection of complete works of George Eliot, is an excerpt from Book III.

Book IV brings, not scenes of battle, but aftermath thereof, grief. 

Book V is farewell, almost silent - after words of repentance and forgiveness - that makes one wish the author hadn't ended it thus, that it was turned to an embrace of love and a new life. But the two represent their people, and the author is portraying history through them.  

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Book I. 

Book II 

Book III 

Book IV 

Book V

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Book I

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"’T is the warm South, where Europe spreads her lands 

"Like fretted leaflets, breathing on the deep: 

"Broad-breasted Spain, leaning with equal love 

"(A calm earth-goddess crowned with corn and vines) 

"On the Mid Sea that moans with memories 

"And on the untravelled Ocean whose vast tides 

"Pant dumbly passionate with dreams of youth 

"This river, shadowed by the battlements 

"And gleaming silvery towards the northern sky, 

"Feeds the famed stream that waters 

"Andalus And loiters, amorous of the fragrant air, 

"By Córdova and Seville to the bay 

"Fronting Algarva and the wandering flood 

"Of Guadiana. This deep mountain gorge 

"Slopes widening on the olive-plumed plains 

"Of fair Granáda: one far-stretching arm 

"Points to Elvira, one to eastward heights 

"Of Alpujarras where the new-bathed Day 

"With oriflamme uplifted o’er the peaks 

"Saddens the breasts of northward-looking snows 

"That loved the night, and soared with soaring stars; 

"Flashing the signals of his nearing swiftness 

"From Almeria’s purple-shadowed bay 

"On to the far-off rooks that gaze and glow— 

"On to Alhambra, strong and ruddy heart 

"Of glorious Morisma, gasping now, 

"A maimed giant in his agony. 

"This town that dips its feet within the stream, 

"And seems to sit a tower-crowned Cybele, 

"Spreading her ample robe adown the rocks. 

"Is rich Bedmár: ’t was Moorish long ago, 

"But now the Cross is sparkling on the Mosque, 

"And bells make Catholic the trembling air. 

"The fortress gleams in Spanish sunshine now 

"(’T is south a mile before the rays are Moorish),— 

"Hereditary jewel, agraffe bright 

"On all the many-titled privilege 

"Of young Duke Silva. No Castilian knight 

"That serves Queen Isabel has higher charge; 

"For near this frontier sits the Moorish king,

"Not Boabdil the waverer, who usurps 

"A throne he trembles in, and fawning licks 

"The feet of conquerors, but that fierce lion 

"Grisly El Zagal, who has made his lair 

"In Guadix’ fort, and rushing thence with strength, 

"Half his own fierceness, half the untainted heart 

"Of mountain bands that fight for holiday, 

"Wastes the fair lands that lie by Alcala, 

"Wreathing his horse’s neck with Christian heads."

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"To keep the Christian frontier—such high trust 

"Is young Duke Silva’s; and the time is great. 

"(What times are little? To the sentinel 

"That hour is regal when he mounts on guard)

"The fifteenth century since the Man Divine 

"Taught and was hated in Capernaum 

"Is near its end—is falling as a husk 

"Away from all the fruit its years have ripened. 

"The Moslem faith, now flickering like a torch 

"In a night struggle on this shore of Spain, 

"Glares, a broad column of advancing flame, 

"Along the Danube and the Illyrian shore 

"Far into Italy, where eager monks, 

"Who watch in dreams and dream the while they watch, 

"See Christ grow paler in the baleful light, 

"Crying again the cry of the forsaken. 

"But faith, the stronger for extremity, 

"Becomes prophetic, hears the far-off tread 

"Of western chivalry, sees downward sweep 

"The archangel Michael with the gleaming sword, 

"And listens for the shriek of hurrying fiends 

"Chased from their revels in God’s sanctuary. 

"So trusts the monk, and lifts appealing eyes 

"To the high dome, the Church’s firmament, 

"Where the blue light-pierced curtain, rolled away, 

"Reveals the throne and Him who sits thereon. 

"So trust the men whose best hope for the world 

"Is ever that, the world is near its end: 

"Impatient of the stars that keep their course 

"And make ho pathway for the coming Judge."

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"But other futures stir the world’s great heart 

"Europe is come to her majority, 

"And enters on the vast inheritance 

"Won from the tombs of mighty ancestors, 

"The seeds, the gold, the gems, the silent harps 

"That lay deep buried with the memories 

"Of old renown. No more, as once in sunny Avignon, 

"The poet-scholar spreads the Homeric page, 

"And gazes sadly, like the deaf at song; 

"For now the old epic voices ring again 

"And vibrate with the beat and melody 

"Stirred by the warmth of old Ionian days. 

"The martyred sage, the Attic orator, 

"Immortally incarnate, like the gods, 

"In spiritual bodies, winged words 

"Holding a universe impalpable, 

"Find a new audience. Forevermore, 

"With gander resurrection than was feigned 

Gander seems like a mistake; didn't she mean grander? 

Now, is this racist?

"Of Attila’s fierce Huns, the soul of Greece 

"Conquers the bulk of Persia. 

So it's soul of Greece vs bulk of Persia? George Eliot couldn't imagine Persia had a civilisation, a spirit, a soul? 

Moreover, she's talking about Islamic forces at war against those of europe; but then, it's Arabic, not Persian! For Persian civilisation and culture, population and language suffered atrocious onslaught from Islamic invasion from Arabs, who massacred people and burnt hundreds of thousands of manuscripts; Persian script was lost and population illiterate in a century. 

Which is why India is hated by them - butchering went on for over a millennium, and yet, India's civilisation lives, unlike Persia and Egypt and other lands that were completely converted within a century. 

"The maimed form 

"Of calmly joyous beauty, marble-limbed, 

"Yet breathing with the thought that shaped its lips, 

"Looks mild reproach from out its open grave 

"At creeds of terror; and the vine-wreathed god 

"Fronts the pierced Image with the crown of thorns. 

"The soul of man is widening towards the past: 

"No longer hanging at the breast of life 

"Feeding in blindness to bin parentage,— 

"Quenching all wonder with Omnipotence, 

"Praising a name with indolent piety— 

"He spells the record of his long descent, 

"More largely conscious of the life that was."

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"And from the height that shows where morning shone 

"On far-off summits pale and gloomy now, 

"The horizon widens round him, and the west 

"Looks vast with untracked waves whereon his gaze 

"Follows the flight of the swift-vanished bird 

"That like the sunken sun is mirrored still 

"Upon the yearning soul within the eye."

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"And so in Córdova through patient nights 

"Columbus watches, or he sails in dreams 

"Between the setting stars and finds new day; 

"Then wakes again to the old weary days, 

"Girds on the cord and frock of pale Saint Francis, 

"And like him zealous pleads with foolish men. 

"“I ask but for a million maravedis: 

"Give me three caravels to find a world."

George Eliot here speaks of Columbus asking to win more worlds for the cross. Were they then unaware about his Jewish roots, and his attempting to find India so as to help several hundred Jews to escape the persecution thereby? 

India was, has always been, a refuge from religious persecution that various people experienced elsewhere, with freedom of thought and freedom of worship, and more; until Israel came into being again in 1948, Jews of India, who had been in India for centuries, had had no reason to leave, and many made the choice even then to stay. One of the first acts of the Knesset of Israel was to pass an official resolution thanking India. 

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"The sacred places shall be purged again, 

"The Turk converted, and the Holy Church, 

"Like the mild Virgin with the outspread robe, 

"Shall fold all tongues and nations lovingly 

"But since God works by armies, who shall be 

"The modern Cyrus?"

No purge as such, nor conversion of Turk took place, but Turkey did get carved. George Eliot, however, doesn't see the contradictions there, or did she? When she says "Like the mild Virgin with the outspread robe, Shall fold all tongues and nations lovingly, But since God works by armies" - is she being devout and matter-of-fact, in the way church adherents do when dealing with colonial imperialism or slavery? Or had she discovered her son of God was, in fact, a warrior for freedom of Jews, against Romans? 

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"The silver cross Glitters o’er Malaga and streams dread light 

"On Moslem galleys, turning all their stores 

"From threats to gifts. What Spanish knight is he 

"Who, living now, holds it not shame to live 

"Apart from that hereditary battle 

"Which needs his sword? Castilian gentlemen 

"Choose not their task—they choose to do it well."

It's rare indeed for adherents of church to admit openly that the cross is intended as a threat! 

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"See now with soldiers in his front and rear 

"He winds at evening through the narrow streets 

"That toward the Castle gate climb devious: 

"His charger, of fine Andalusian stock, 

"An Indian beauty black but delicate, 

"Is conscious of the herald trumpet note, 

"The gathering glances, and familiar ways 

"That lead fast homeward: she forgets fatigue, 

"And at the light touch of the master’s spur 

"Thrills with the zeal to bear him royally, 

"Arches her neck and clambers up the stones 

"As if disdainful of the difficult steep.

"Night-black the charger, black the rider’s plume, 

"But all between is bright with morning hues— 

"Seems ivory and gold and deep blue gems, 

"And starry flashing steel and pale vermilion, 

"All set in jasper: on his surcoat white 

"Glitter the sword-belt and the jewelled hilt, 

"Red on the back and breast the holy cross, 

"And ’twixt the helmet and the soft-spun white 

"Thick tawny wavelets like the lion’s mane 

"Turn backward from his brow, pale, wide, erect. 

"Shadowing blue eyes,—blue as the rain-washed sky 

"That braced the early stem of Gothic kings 

"He claims for ancestry. A goodly knight, 

"A noble caballero, broad of chest 

"And long of limb. So much the August sun, 

"Now in the west but shooting half its beams 

"Past a dark rocky profile toward thy plain, 

"At winding opportunities across the slope 

"Makes suddenly luminous for all who see: 

"For women smiling from the terraced roofs; 

"For boys that prone on trucks with head up-propped, 

"Lazy and curious, stare irreverent; 

For men who make obeisance with degrees 

"Of good-will shading towards servility, 

Where good-will ends and secret fear begins 

"And curses, too, low-muttered through the teeth, 

"Explanatory to the God of Shem.

"Five, grouped within a whitened tavern court 

"Of Moorish fashion, where the trellised vines 

"Purpling above their heads make odorous shade, 

"Note through the open door the passers-by, 

"Getting some rills of novelty to speed 

"The lagging stream of talk and help the wine. 

"’T is Christian to drink wine: whoso denies 

"His flesh at bidding save of Holy Church, 

"Let him beware and take to Christian sins 

"Lest he be taxed with Moslem sanctity."

Was it as simple? "’T is Christian to drink wine: whoso denies His flesh at bidding save of Holy Church, Let him beware and take to Christian sins Lest he be taxed with Moslem sanctity."?

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Author describes five men at the tavern, whose conversation carries the tale forward. George Eliot is really good here in that she's writing this epic as play in verse, but the conversation is natural, not stilted, and for this to be achieved when it's not conversation between learned poets, just ordinary men, is no mean feat. 

"Like Juan there, the spare man with the lute, 

"Who makes you dizzy with his rapid tongue, 

"Whirring athwart your mind with comment swift 

"On speech you would have finished by and by, 

"Shooting your bird for you while you are loading, 

"Cheapening your wisdom as a pattern known 

"And spun by any shuttle on demand."

"Most like the Fauns that roamed in days of old 

"About the listening whispering woods, and shared 

"The subtler sense of sylvan ears and eyes 

"Undulled by scheming thought, yet joined the rout 

"Of men and women on the festal days, 

"And played the syrinx too, and knew love’s pains, 

"Turning their anguish into melody. 

"For Juan was a minstrel still, in times 

"When minstrelsy was held a thing outworn. 

"Spirits seem buried and their epitaph 

"Is writ in Latin by severest pens, 

"Yet still they flit above the trodden grave 

"And find new bodies, animating them 

"In quaint and ghostly way with antique souls. 

"So Juan was a troubadour revived, 

"Freshening life’s dusty road with babbling rills 

"Of wit and song, living ’mid harnessed men 

"With limbs ungalled by armour, ready so 

"To soothe them weary, and to cheer them sad. 

"Guest at the board, companion in the camp, 

"A crystal mirror to the life around, 

"Flashing the comment keen of simple fact 

"Defined in words; lending brief lyric voice 

"To grief and sadness; hardly taking note 

"Of difference betwixt his own and others’; 

"But rather singing as a listener 

"To the deep moans, the cries, the wild strong joys 

"Of universal Nature, old yet young. 

"Such Juan, the third talker, shimmering bright 

"As butterfly or bird with quickest life."

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"Host. 

"Best treat your wasp with delicate regard; 

"When the right moment comes say, “By your leave,’ 

"Use your heel—so! and make an end of him. 

"That’s if we talked of wasps; but our young Duke,— 

"Spain holds not a more gallant gentleman. 

"Live, live, Duke Silva! ’T is a rare smile he has, 

"But seldom seen. 

"Juan. 

"A true hidalgo’s smile, 

"That gives much favor, but beseeches none. 

"His smile is sweetened by his gravity: 

"It comes like dawn upon Sierra snows, 

"Seeming more generous for the coldness gone; 

"Breaks from the calm—a sudden opening flower 

"On dark deep waters: one moment shrouded close, 

"A mystic shrine, the next a full-rayed star, 

"Thrilling, pulse-quickening as a living word. 

"I’ll make a song of that. Host. Prithee, not now. 

"You’ll fall to staring like a wooden saint, 

"And wag your head as it were set on wires. 

"Here’s fresh sherbet Sit, be good company. 

"(To Blasco) You are a stranger, sir, and cannot know 

"How our Duke’s nature suits his princely frame. 

"Blasco. 

"Nay, but I marked his spurs—chased cunningly! 

"A duke should know good gold and silver plate; 

"Then he will know the quality of mine. 

"I’ve ware for tables and for altars too, 

"Our Lady in all sizes, crosses, bells: 

"He’ll need such weapons full as much as swords 

"If he would capture any Moorish town. 

"For, let me tell you, when a mosque is cleansed . . . 

"Juan. 

"The demons fly so thick from sound of bells 

"And smell of incense, you may see the air 

"Streaked as with smoke. Why, they are spirits: 

"You may well think how crowded they must be 

"To make a sort of haze."

"Blasco. 

"I knew not that. 

"Still, they’re of smoky nature, demons are; 

"And since you say so—well, it proves the more 

"The need of bells and censers. Ay, your Duke 

"Sat well: a true hidalgo. I can judge— 

"Of harness specially. I saw the camp, 

"The royal camp at Velez Malaga. 

"’T was like the court of heaven,—such liveries! 

"And torches carried by the score at night 

"Before the nobles. Sirs, I made a dish 

"To set an emerald in would fit a crown, 

"For Don Alonzo, lord of Aguilar. 

"Your Duke’s no whit behind him in his mien 

"Or harness either. But you seem to say 

"The people love him not."

"Host. 

"They’ve naught against him. 

"But certain winds will make men’s temper bad. 

"When the Solano blows hot venomed breath, 

"It acts upon men’s knives: steel takes to stabbing 

"Which else, with cooler winds, were honest steel, 

"Cutting but garlick. There’s a wind just now 

"Blows right from Seville—"

"Blasco. 

"Ay, you mean the wind…. 

"Yes, yes, a wind that’s rather hot…."

"Juan. 

"A wind that suits not with oar townsmen’s blood 

"Abram, ’t is said, objected to be scorched, 

"And, as the learned Arabs vouch, he gave 

"The antipathy, in full to Ishmael. 

"’T is true, these patriarchs had their oddities."

This reference to Abraham and Ishmael might be significant, indicating that we are to infer that thereby Arabs have had the secret of keeping cool, which Europe lacks. 

Now cones George Eliot's exposing the attitude of general crass public regarding persecution during inquisition. 

"Blasco. 

"Oddities? I’m of their mind, I know. 

"Though, as to Abraham and Ishmael, 

"I'm an old Christian, and owe naught to them 

"Or any Jew among them. But I know 

"We made a stir in Saragossa—we: 

"The men of Aragon ring hard,—ttrue metal. 

"Sirs, I’m no friend to heresy, but then 

"A Christian’s money is not safe. As how? 

"A lapsing Jew or any heretic 

"May owe me twenty ounces: suddenly 

"He’s prisoned, suffers penalties,—’t is well: 

"If men will not believe, ’t is good to make them, 

"But let the penalties fall on them alone. 

"The Jew is stripped, his goods are confiscate; 

"Now, where, I pray you, go my twenty ounces? 

"God knows, and perhaps the King may, but not I. 

"And more, my son may lose his young wife’s dower 

"Because ’t was promised since her father’s soul 

"Fell to wrong thinking. How was I to know? 

"I could but use my sense and cross myself. 

"Christian is Christian—I give in,—but still 

"Taxing is taxing, though you call it holy. 

"We Saragossans liked not this new tax 

"They call the—nonsense, I’m from Aragon! 

"I speak too bluntly. But, for Holy Church, 

"No man believes more."

There was no sympathy for those persecuted, only an annoyance about not getting ones dues! Hence the power amassed by those who would persecute, torture and kill - no opposition. And heres clearer depiction of the onlookers, not averse to watching such procedures, and asserting their sympathy with the inquisitors. 

"I speak my mind about the penalties, But, look you, 

"I’m against assassination. You know my meaning—

"Master Arbuès, The grand Inquisitor in Aragon. 

"I knew naught,—paid no copper towards the deed. 

"But I was there, at prayers, within the church. 

"How could I help it? Why, the saints were there, 

"And looked straight on above the altars. I . . . . 

"Juan. 

"Looked carefully another way. 

"Blasco. Why, at my beads. 

"’T was after midnight, and the canons all 

"Were chanting matins. I was not in church 

"To gape and stare. I saw the martyr kneel: 

"I never liked the look of him alive,— 

"He was no martyr then. I thought he made 

"An ugly shadow as he crept athwart 

"The bands of light, then passed within the gloom 

"By the broad pillar. ’T was in our great Seo, 

"At Saragossa. The pillars tower so large 

"You cross yourself to see them, lest white 

"Death Should hide behind their dark. 

"And so it was. I looked away again and told my beads 

"Unthinkingly; but still a man has ears; 

"And right across the chanting came a sound 

"As if a tree had crashed above the roar 

"Of some great torrent. So it seemed to me; 

"For when yon listen long and shut your eyes 

"Small sounds get thunderous. And he’d a shell 

"Like any lobster: a good iron suit 

"From top to toe beneath the innocent serge. 

"That made the telltale sound. But then came shrieks. 

"The chanting stopped and tamed to rushing feet, 

"And in the midst lay Master Arbuès, 

"Felled like an ox. ’T was wicked butchery. 

"Some honest men had hoped it would have scared 

"The Inquisition out of Aragon. 

"’T was money thrown away,—I would say, crime,— 

"Clean thrown away. 

"Host. 

"That was a pity now. 

"Next to a missing thrust, what irks me most 

"Is a neat well-aimed stroke that kills your man, 

"Yet ends in mischief,—as in Aragon. 

"It was a lesson to our people here. 

"Else there’s a monk within our city walls, 

"A holy, high-born, stern Dominican, 

"They might have made the great mistake to kill. 

"Blasco. 

"What! Is he?…. 

"Host. 

"Yes; a Master Arbuès Of finer quality. 

"The Prior here And uncle to our Duke. 

"Blasco. 

"He will want plate: A holy pillar or a crucifix. 

"But, did you say, he was like Arbuès? 

"Juan. 

"As a black eagle with gold beak and claws 

"Is like a raven. Even in his cowl, 

"Covered from head to foot, the Prior is known 

"From all the black herd round. When he uncovers 

"And stands white-frocked, with ivory face, his eyes 

"Black-gleaming, black his crown of hair 

"Like shredded jasper, he seems less a man 

"With struggling aims than pure incarnate 

"Will, Fit to subdue rebellious nations, nay, 

"That human flesh he breathes in, charged with passion 

"Which quivers in his nostril and his lip, 

"But disciplined by long in-dwelling will 

"To silent labor in the yoke of law. 

"A truce to thy comparisons, Lorenzo! 

"Thine is no subtle nose for difference; 

"’T is dulled by feigning and civility."

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Blasco clarifies further, in case someone didn't get it. 

"Look you, I’m dutiful, obey the Church 

"When there’s no help for it: I mean to say, 

"When Pope and Bishop and all customers 

"Order alike. But there be bishops now, 

"And were aforetime, who have held it wrong, 

"This hurry to convert the Jews. As, how? 

"Your Jew pays tribute to the bishop, say. 

"That’s good, and must please God, to see the Church 

"Maintained in ways that ease the Christian’s purse. 

"Convert the Jew, and where’s the tribute, pray? 

"He lapses, too: ’t is slippery work, conversion: 

"And then the holy taxing carries off 

"His money at one sweep. No tribute more! 

"He’s penitent or burnt, and there’s an end. 

"Now guess which pleases God…. 

"Juan. 

"Whether he likes 

"A well-burnt Jew or well-fed bishop best. 

"[While Juan put this problem theologic 

"Entered, with resonant step, another, guest,— 

"A soldier: all his keenness in his sword, 

"His eloquence in scars upon his cheek, 

"His virtue in much slaying of the Moor: 

"With brow well-creased in horizontal folds 

"To save the space, as having naught to do: 

"Lips prone to whistle whisperingly,—no tune, 

"But trotting rhythm: meditative eyes, 

"Most often fixed upon his legs and spurs: 

"Invited much and held good company: 

"Styled Captain Lopez.]"

"Lopez. 

"’T is bad. We make no sally: 

"We sit still here and wait whate’er the 

"Moor Shall please to do. 

"Host. 

"Some townsmen will be glad. 

"Lopez. 

"Glad, will they be? But I’m not glad, not I, 

"Nor any Spanish soldier of clean blood. 

"But the Duke’s wisdom is to wait a siege 

"Instead of laying one. Therefore—meantime— 

"He will be married straightway."

....

"Some say, ’t was letters’ changed the Duke’s intent: 

"From Malaga, says Blas. From Rome, says Quintin. 

"From spies at Guadix, says Sebastian. 

"Some say, ’t is all a pretext,—say, the 

"Duke Is but a lapdog hanging on a skirt, 

"Turning his eyeballs upward like a monk: 

"’T was Don Diego said that,—so says Blas; 

"Last week, he said…."

"Juan. 

"O do without the “said”! 

"Open thy mouth and pause in lieu of it. 

"1 had as lief be pelted with a pea 

"Irregularly in the selfsame spot 

"As hear such iteration without rule, 

"Such torture of uncertain certainty. 

"Lopez. 

"Santiago! Juan, thou art hard to please. 

"I speak not for my own delighting, I. 

"I can be silent, I. 

"Blasco. 

"Nay, sir, speak on! 

"I like your matter well; I deal in plate. 

"This wedding touches me. Who is the bride? 

And here's a fine distinction of who's the real knight, of mind and heart and spirit. 

"Lopez. 

"One that some say the Duke does ill to wed; 

"One that his mother reared—God rest her soul!— 

"Duchess Diana,—she who died last year. 

"A bird picked up away from any nest. 

"Her name—the Duchess gave it—is Fedalma. 

"No harm in that. But the Duke stoops, they say, 

"In wedding her. And that’s the simple truth. 

"Juan. 

"Thy simple truth is but a false opinion: 

"The simple truth of asses who believe 

"Their thistle is the very best of food. 

"Fie, Lopez, thou a Spaniard with a sword 

"Dreamest a Spanish noble ever stoops 

"By doing honour to the maid he loves! 

"He stoops alone when he dishonors her. 

"Lopez. 

"Nay, I said naught against her. 

"Juan. 

"Better not. 

"Else I would challenge thee to fight with wits, 

"And spear thee through and through ere thou couldst draw 

"The bluntest word. Yes, yes, consult thy spurs: 

"Spurs are a sign of knighthood, and should tell thee 

"That knightly love is blent with reverence 

"As heavenly air is blent with heavenly blue, 

"Don Silva’s heart beats to a loyal tune; 

"He wills no highest-born Castilian dame, 

"Betrothed to highest noble, should be held 

"More sacred than Fedalma. He enshrines 

"Her virgin image for the general worship 

"And for his own,—will guard her from the world, 

"Nay, his profaner self, lest he should lose, 

"The place of his religion. He does well. 

"Naught can come closer to the poet’s strain."

Ah, here's a clue to the heart of the epic poem. 

"Lopez. 

"By making ditties, singing with round mouth 

"Likest a crowing cock? Thou meanest that? 

"Juan. 

"Lopez, take physic, thou art getting ill, 

"Growing descriptive; ’t is unnatural. 

"I mean, Don Silva’s love expects reward, 

"Kneels with a heaven to come; but the poor poet 

"Worships without reward, nor hopes to find 

"A heaven save in his worship. He adores 

"The sweetest woman for her sweetness’ sake, 

"Joys in the love that was not born for him, 

"Because ’t is lovingness, as beggars joy, 

"Warming their naked limbs on wayside walls, 

"To hear a tale of princes and their glory. 

"There’s a poor poet (poor, I mean, in coin) 

"Worships Fedalma with so true a love 

"That if her silken robe were changed for rags, 

"And she were driven out to stony wilds 

"Barefoot, a scorned wanderer, he would kiss 

"Her ragged garment’s edge, and only ask 

"For leave to be her slave. Digest that, friend, 

"Or let it lie upon thee as a weight 

"To check light thinking of Fedalma."

"Lopez. 

"I? I think no harm of her; I thank the saints 

"I wear a sword and peddle not in thinking. 

"’T is Father Marcos says she’ll not confess 

"And loves not holy water; says her blood 

"Is infidel; says the Duke’s wedding her 

Is union of light with darkness."

Oh, one hears distinct thunder of a tragedy coming on! And here it comes. 

"Host. 

"I’ll get this juggler, if he quits him well, 

"An audience here as choice as can be lured. 

"For me, when a poor devil does his best, 

"’T is my delight to soothe his soul with praise. 

"What though the best be bad? remains the good 

"Of throwing food to a lean hungry dog. 

"I’d give up the best jugglery in life 

"To see a miserable juggler pleased. 

"But that’s my humour. Crowds are malcontent, 

"And cruel as the Holy…. Shall we go? 

"All of us now together? 

"Lopez. 

"Well, not I. 

"I may be there anon, but first I go 

"To the lower prison. There is strict command 

"That all our gypsy prisoners shall to-night 

"Be lodged within the fort. They’ve forged enough 

"Of balls and bullets,—used up all the metal. 

"At morn to-morrow they must carry stones 

"Up the south tower. ’T is a fine stalwart band, 

"Fit for the hardest tasks. Some say, the queen 

"Would have the Gypsies banished with the Jews. 

"Some say, ’t were better harness them for work. 

"They’d feed on any filth and save the Spaniard. 

"Some say—but I must go. ’T will soon be time 

"To head the escort. We shall meet again."

................................................................................................

One can see the roots of final solution and the crass argument - in the dialogues of the plate trader - against it, here. 

Where did George Eliot get it all ? Was this argued in England too in her time? Or is it historic and she read most of it? 

"Blasco. 

"Go sir, with God (exit Lopez). 

"A very popular man, And soldierly. 

"But, for this banishment 

"Some men are hot on, it ill pleases me. 

"The Jews, now (sirs, if any Christian here 

"Had Jews, for ancestors, I blame him not; 

"We cannot all be Goths of Aragon),— 

"Jews are not fit heaven, but on earth 

"They are most useful. ’T is the same with mules, 

"Horses, or oxen, or with any pig 

"Except Saint Anthony’s. They are useful here 

"(The Jews, I mean) though they may go to hell. 

"And, look you, useful sins,—why Providence 

"Sends Jews to do ‘em, saving Christian souls. 

"The very Gypsies, curbed and harnessed well, 

"Would make draught cattle, feed on vermin too, 

"Cost less than grazing brutes, and turn bad food 

"To handsome carcasses; sweat at the forge 

"For little wages, and well drilled and flogged 

"Might work like slaves, some Spaniards looking on. 

"I deal in plate, and am no priest to say 

"What God may mean, save when he means plain sense; 

"But when he sent the Gypsies wandering 

"In punishment because they sheltered not 

"Our Lady and Saint Joseph (and no doubt 

"Stole the small ass they fled with into Egypt), 

"Why send them here? ’T is plain he saw the use 

"They’d be to Spaniards. Shall we banish them, 

"And tell God we know better? ’T is a sin. 

"They talk of vermin; but, sirs, vermin large 

"Were made to eat the small, or else to eat 

"The noxious rubbish, and picked Gypsy men 

"Might serve in war to climb, be killed, and fall, 

"To make an easy ladder. Once I saw 

"A Gypsy sorcerer, at a spring and grasp 

"Kill one who came to seize him: talk of strength! 

"Nay, Swiftness too, for while we crossed ourselves 

"He vanished like,—say, like .. 

"Juan. 

"A swift black snake, Or like a living arrow fledged with will. 

"Blasco. 

"Why, did you see him, pray? 

"Juan. 

"Not then, but now, 

"As painters see the many in the one. 

"We have a Gypsy in Bedmár whose frame 

"Nature compacted with such fine selection, 

"’T would yield a dozen types: all Spanish knights, 

"From him who slew Rolando at the pass 

"Up to the mighty Cid; all deities, 

"Thronging Olympus in fine attitudes; 

"Or all hell’s heroes whom the poet saw 

"Tremble like lions, writhe like demigods. 

"Host. 

"Pause not yet, Juan,—more hyperbole! 

"Shoot upward still and flare -in meteors 

"Before thou sink to earth in dull brown fact. 

"Blasco. 

"Nay, give me fact, high shooting suits not me. 

"I never stare to look for soaring larks. What is this Gypsy? 

"Host. 

"Chieftain of a band, 

"The Moor’s allies, whom full a month ago, 

"Our Duke surprised and brought as captives home. 

"He needed smiths, and doubtless the brave Moor 

"Has missed some useful scouts and archers too. 

"Juan’s fantastic pleasure is to watch 

"These Gypsies forging, and to hold discourse 

"With this great chief, whom he transforms at will 

"To sage or warrior, and like the sun 

"Plays daily at fallacious alchemy, 

"Turns sand to gold and dewy spider-webs 

"To myriad rainbows. Still the sand is sand, 

"And still in sober shade you see the web. 

"’T is so, I’ll wager, with his Gypsy chief,— 

"A piece of stalwart cunning, nothing more."

................................................................................................

Is this the explanation of the title?

"Juan. 

"No! My invention had been all too poor 

"To frame this Zarca as I saw him first. 

"’T was when they stripped him. In his chieftain’s gear, 

"Amidst his men he seemed a royal barb 

"Followed by. Wild-maned Andalusion colts. 

"He had a necklace of a strange device 

"In finest gold of unknown workmanship, 

"But delicate as Moorish, fit to kiss 

"Fedalma’s neck, and play in shadows there. 

"He wore fine mail, a rich-wrought sword and belt, 

"And on surcoat black a broidered torch, 

"A pine-branch flaming, grasped by two dark hands. 

"But when they stripped him of his ornaments 

"It was the bawbles lost their grace, not he. 

"His eyes, his mouth, his nostril, all inspired 

"With scorn that mastered utterance of scorn, 

"With power to check all rage until it turned 

"To ordered force, unleashed on chosen prey,— 

"It seemed the soul within him made his limbs 

"And made them grand. The bawbles were well gone. 

"He stood the more a king, when bared to man."

"Blasco. 

"Maybe. But nakedness is bad for trade, 

"And is not decent. Well-wrought metal, sir, 

"Is not a bawble. Had you seen the camp, 

"The royal camp at Velez Malaga, 

"Ponce de Leon and the other dukes. 

"The king himself and all his thousand knights 

"For body-guard, ’t would not have left you breath 

"To praise a Gypsy thus. A man’s a man; 

"But when you see a king, you see the work 

"Of many, thousand men. King Ferdinand 

"Bears a fine presence, and hath proper limbs; 

"But what though he were shrunken as a relic? 

"You’d see the gold and gems that cased him o’er, 

"And all the pages round him in brocade, 

"And all the lords, themselves a sort of kings, 

"Doing him reverence. That strikes an awe 

"Into a common man,—especially A judge of plate. 

"Host. 

"Faith very wisely said. 

"Purge thy speech, Juan. It is over-full 

"Of this same Gypsy. Praise the Catholic King. 

"And come now, let us see the juggler’s skill."

................................................................................................

"’T is daylight still, but now the golden cross 

"Uplifted by the angel on the dome 

"Stands rayless in calm color clear-defined 

"Against the northern blue; from turrets high 

"The flitting splendor sinks with folded wing 

"Dark-hid till morning, and the battlements 

"Wear soft relenting whiteness mellowed o’er 

"By summers generous and winters bland. 

"Now in the east the distance casts its veil, 

"And gazes with a deepening earnestness. 

"The old rain-fretted mountains in their robes 

"Of shadow-broken gray; the rounded hills 

"Reddened with blood of Titans, whose huge limbs 

"Entombed within, feed full the hardy flesh 

"Of cactus1 green and blue, broad-sworded aloes; 

"The cypress soaring black above the lines 

"Of white court-walls; the jointed sugar-canes 

"Pale-golden with their feathers motionless 

"In the warm quiet;—all thought-teaching form 

"Utters itself in firm unshimmering hues. 

"For the great rock has screened the westering sun 

"That still on plains beyond streams vaporous gold 

"Among their branches; and within Bedmár 

"Has come the time of sweet serenity 

"When colour glows unglittering, and the soul 

"Of visible things shows silent happiness, 

"As that of lovers trusting though apart. 

"The ripe-cheeked fruits, the crimson-petalled flowers; 

"The winged life that pausing seems a gem 

"Cunningly carven on the dark green leaf;"

....

"The Plaça widens in the passive air,— 

"The Plaça Santiago, where the church, 

"A mosque converted, shows an eyeless face 

"Red-checkered, faded, doing penance still,— 

"Bearing with Moorish arch the imaged saint, 

"Apostle, baron, Spanish warrior, 

"Whose charger’s hoofs trample the turbaned dead, 

"Whose banner with the Cross, the bloody sword, 

"Flashes athwart the Moslem’s glazing eye, 

"And mocks his trust in Allah who forsakes."

....

"Maids with arched eyebrows, delicate-pencilled, dark, 

"Fold their round arms below the kerchief full; 

"Men shoulder little girls; and grandames gray, 

"But muscular still, hold babies on their arms; 

"While mothers keep the stout-legged boys in front 

"Against their skirts, as the Greek pictures old 

"Show the Chief Mother with the Boy divine. 

"Youths keep the places for themselves, and roll 

"Large lazy eyes, and call recumbent dogs 

"(For reasons deep below the reach of thought). 

"The old men cough with purpose, wish to hint 

"Wisdom within that cheapens jugglery, 

"Maintain a neutral air, and knit their brows 

"In observation. None are quarrelsome, 

"Noisy, or very merry; for their blood 

"Moves, slowly into fervor,—they rejoice 

"Like those dark birds that sweep with heavy wing, 

"Cheering their mates with melancholy cries."

....

"Lorenzo knits the crowd 

"Into one family by showing all 

"Good-will and recognition. Juan casts 

"His large and rapid-measuring glance around; 

"But—with faint quivering, transient as a breath 

"Shaking a flame—his eyes make sudden pause 

"Where by the jutting angle of a street 

"Castle-ward leading, stands a female form, 

"A kerchief pale square-drooping o’er the brow, 

"About her shoulders dim brown serge,—in garb 

"Most like a peasant woman from the vale, 

"Who might have lingered after marketing 

"To see the show. What thrill mysterious, 

"Ray-borne from orb to orb of conscious eyes, 

"The swift observing sweep of Juan’s glance 

"Arrests an instant, then with prompting fresh 

"Diverts it lastingly? He turns at once 

"To watch the gilded balls, and nod and smile 

"At little round Pepíta, blondest maid 

"In all Bedmár,—Pepíta, fair yet flecked, 

"Saucy of lip and nose, of hair as red 

"As breasts of robins stepping on the snow,— 

"Who stands in front with little tapping feet, 

"And baby-dimpled hands that hide enclosed 

"Those sleeping crickets, the dark castanets."

....

"The long notes linger on the trembling air, 

"With subtle penetration enter all 

"The myriad corridors of the passionate soul, 

"Message-like spread, and answering action rouse. 

"Not angular jigs that warm the chilly limbs 

"In hoary northern mists, but action curved 

"To soft andante strains pitched plaintively."

"Vibrations sympathetic stir all limbs: 

"Old men live backward in their dancing prime, 

"And move in memory; small legs and arms 

"With pleasant agitation purposeless 

"Go up and down like pretty fruits in gales. 

"All long in common for the expressive act 

"Yet wait for it; as in the olden time 

"Men waited for the bard to tell their thought. 

"“The dance! the dance!” is shouted all around. 

"Now Pablo lifts the bow, Pepíta now, 

"Ready as bird that sees the sprinkled corn, 

"When Juan nods and smiles, puts forth her foot 

"And lifted her arm to wake the castanets. 

"Juan advances, too, from out the ring 

"And bends to quit his lute; for now the scene 

"Is empty; Roldan, weary, gathers pence, 

"Followed by Annibal with purse and stick. 

"The carpet lies a colored isle untrod, 

"Inviting feet: “The dance, the dance,” resounds, 

"The bow entreats with slow melodic strain, 

"And all the air with expectation yearns. 

"Sudden, with gliding motion like a flame 

"That through dim vapor makes a path of glory, 

"A figure lithe, all white and saffron-robed, 

"Flashed right across the circle, and now stood 

"With ripened arms uplift and regal head, 

"Like some tall flower whose dark and intense heart 

"Lies half within a tulip-tinted cup. 

"Juan stood fixed and pale; Pepíta stepped 

"Backward within the ring: the voices fell 

"From shouts insistent to more passive tones 

"Half meaning welcome, half astonishment. 

"“Lady Fedalma!—will she dance for us?”"

................................................................................................

"The exquisite hour, the ardor of the crowd, 

"The strains more plenteous, and the gathering might 

"Of action passionate where no effort is, 

"But self’s poor gates open to rushing power 

"That blends the inward ebb and outward vast,— 

"All gathering influences culminate 

"And urge Fedalma. Earth and heaven seem one,"

................................................................................................

"But sudden, at one point, the exultant throng 

"Is pushed and hustled, and then thrust apart: 

"Something approaches,—something cuts the ring 

"Of jubilant idlers,—startling as a streak 

"From alien wounds across the blooming flesh 

"Of careless sporting childhood, 

"’T is the band Of Gypsy prisoners. Soldiers lead the van 

"And make sparse flanking guard, aloof surveyed 

"By gallant Lopez, stringent in command. 

"The Gypsies chained in couples, all save one, 

"Walk in dark file with grand bare legs and arms 

"And savage melancholy in their eyes 

"That star-like gleam from out black clouds of hair; 

"Now they are full in sight, now stretch 

"Right to the centre of the open space. 

"Fedalma now, with gentle wheeling sweep 

"Returning, like the loveliest of the Hours 

"Strayed from her sisters, truant lingering, 

"Faces again the centre, swings again 

"The uplifted tambourine…. When lo! with sound 

"Stupendous throbbing, solemn as a voice 

"Sent by the invisible choir of all the dead, 

"Tolls the great passing bell that calls to prayer 

"For souls departed: at the mighty beat 

"It seems the light sinks awe-struck,—’t is the note 

"Of the sun’s burial; speech and action pause;"

....

"The soldiers pray; the Gypsies stand unmoved 

"As pagan statues with proud level gaze. 

"But he who wears a solitary chain 

"Heading the file, has turned to face Fedalma. 

"She motionless, with arm uplifted, guards 

"The tambourine aloft (lest, sudden-lowered, 

"Its trivial jingle mar the duteous pause),"

"Reveres the general prayer, but prays not, stands 

"With level glance meeting that Gypsy’s eyes, 

"That seem to her the sadness of the world 

"Rebuking her, the great bell’s hidden thought 

"Now first unveiled,—the sorrows unredeemed 

"Of races outcast, scorned, and wandering.

"Why does he look at her? why she at him? 

"As if the meeting light between their eyes 

"Made permanent union? Hist deep-knit brow, 

"Inflated nostril, scornful lip compressed, 

"Seem a dark hieroglyph of coming fate 

"Written before her. Father Isidor 

"Had terrible eyes and was her enemy; 

"She knew it and defied him; all her soul 

"Rounded and hardened in its separateness 

"When they encountered. But this prisoner,— 

"This Gypsy, passing, gazing casually,— 

"Was he her enemy too? She stood all quelled, 

"The impetuous joy that hurried in her veins 

"Seemed backward rushing turned to chillest awe, 

"Uneasy wonder, and a vague self-doubt. 

"The minute brief stretched measureless, dream-filled 

"By a dilated new-fraught consciousness. 

"Now it was gone; the pious murmur ceased, 

"The Gypsy band moved onward at command 

"And careless noises blent confusedly. 

"But the ring closed again, and many ears 

"Waited for Pablo’s music, many eyes 

"Turned towards the carpet: it lay bare and dim, 

"Twilight was there,—the bright Fedalma gone."

................................................................................................

The priest here plays almost exactly the role of the villain in Othello, except for the Frank arrogance that differed from the play character, and the open attempt to terrorise the knight. 

"Don Silva. 

"Perhaps. I seek to justify my public acts 

"And not my private joy. Before the world 

"Enough if I am faithful in command, 

"Betray not by my deeds, swerve from no task 

"My knightly vows constrain me to: herein 

"I ask all men to test me. 

"Prior. 

"Knightly vows? 

"Is it by their constraint that you must marry? 

"Don Silva. 

"Marriage is not a breach of them. 

"I use A sanctioned liberty…. your pardon, father, 

"I need not teach you what the Church decrees. 

"But facts may weaken texts, and so dry up 

"The fount of eloquence. The Church relaxed 

"Our Order’s rule before I took the vows.

"Prior. 

"Ignoble liberty! you snatch your rule 

"From what God tolerates, not what he loves?— 

"Inquire what lowest offering may suffice, 

"Cheapen it meanly to an obolus, 

"Then buy and count the coin left in your purse 

"For your debauch?—Measure obedience 

"By scantest powers of feeble brethren 

"Whom Holy Church indulges?—Ask great Law, 

"The rightful Sovereign of the human soul, 

"For what it pardons, not what it commands? 

"O fallen knighthood, penitent of high vows, 

"Asking a charter to degrade itself! 

"Such poor apology of rules relaxed 

"Blunts not suspicion of that doubleness 

"Your enemies tax you with."

"Don Silva. 

"Pause there! Leave unsaid 

"Aught that will match that text. 

"More were too much, 

"Even from holy lips. I own no love 

"But such as guards my honor, since it guards 

"Hers whom I love! I suffer no foul words 

"To stain the gift I lay before her feet; 

"And, being hers, my honor is more safe."

"Prior. 

"Verse-makers’ talk! fit for a world of rhymes, 

"Where facts are feigned to tickle idle ears, 

"Where good and evil play at tournament 

"And end in amity,—a world of lies,— 

"A carnival of words where every year 

"Stale falsehoods serve fresh men. Your honor safe? 

"What honor has a man with double bonds? 

"Honor is shifting as the shadows are 

"To souls that turn their passions into laws. 

"A Christian knight who weds an infidel…. 

"Don Silva 

"(fiercely). An Infidel! 

Prior. 

"May one day spurn the Cross, 

"And call that honor!—one day find his sword 

"Stained with his brother’s blood, and call that honor! 

"Apostates’ honour?—harlots’ chastity! 

"Renegades’ faithfulness?—Iscariot’s! 

"Don Silva. 

"Strong words and burning; but they scorch not me. 

"Fedalma is a daughter of the Church,— 

"Has been baptised and nurtured in the faith. 

"Prior. 

"Ay, as a thousand Jewesses, who yet 

"Are brides of Satan in a robe of flames. 

"Don Silva. 

"Fedalma is no Jewess, bears no marks 

"That tell of Hebrew blood. 

"Prior. 

"She bears the marks 

"Of races unbaptized, that never bowed 

"Before the holy signs, were never moved 

"By stirrings of the sacramental gifts. 

"Don Silva (scornfully). 

"Holy accusers practise palmistry, 

"And, other witness lacking, read the skin. 

"Prior. 

"I read a record deeper than the skin. 

"What! Shall the trick of nostrils and of lips 

"Descend through generations, and the soul 

"That moves within our frame like God in worlds- 

"Convulsing, urging, melting, withering— 

"Imprint no record, leave no documents, 

"Of her great history? Shall men bequeath 

"The fancies of their palate to their sons, 

"And shall the shudder of restraining awe, 

"The slow-wept tears of contrite memory, 

"Faith’s prayerful labor, and the food divine 

"Of fasts ecstatic,—shall these pass away 

"Like wind upon the waters, tracklessly? 

"Shall the mere curl of eyelashes remain 

"And god-enshrining symbols leave no trace 

"Of tremors reverent?—That maiden’s blood 

"Is as unchristian as the leopard’s. 

"Don Silva. 

"Say, Unchristian as the Blessed Virgin’s blood 

"Before the angel spoke the word, “All hail!” 

"Prior 

"(smiling bitterly) Said I not truly? See, your passion weaves 

"Already blasphemies! 

"Don Silva. 

"’T is you provoke them. 

"Prior. 

"I strive, as still the Holy Spirit strives, 

"To move the will perverse. But failing this, 

"God commands other means to save our blood, 

"To save Castilian glory,—nay, to save 

"The name of Christ from blot of traitorous deeds. 

"Don Silva. 

"Of traitorous deeds! Age, kindred, and your cowl, 

"Give an ignoble licence to your tongue. 

"As for your threats, fulfil them at your peril. 

"’T is you, not I, will gibbet our great name 

"To rot in infamy. If I am strong 

"In patience now, trust me, I can be strong 

"Then in defiance. 

"Prior. 

"Miserable man! 

"Your strength will turn to anguish, like the strength 

"Of fallen angels. Can you change your blood? 

"You are a Christian, with the Christian awe 

"In every vein. A Spanish noble, born 

"To serve your people and your people’s faith. 

"Strong, are you? Turn your back upon the Cross,— 

"Its shadow is before you. Leave your place: 

"Quit the great ranks of knighthood: you will walk 

"Forever with a tortured double self, 

"A self that will be hungry while yon feast, 

"Will blush with shame while you are glorified, 

"Will feel the ache and chill of desolation, 

"Even in the very bosom of your love. 

"Mate yourself with this woman, fit for what? 

"To make the sport of Moorish palaces, 

"A lewd Herodias…. 

"Don Silva. 

"Stop! no other man, 

"Priest though he were had had his throat left free 

"For passage of those words. I would have clutched 

"His serpent’s neck, and flung him out to hell! 

"A monk must needs defile the name of love: 

"He knows it but as tempting devils paint it. 

"You think to scare my love from its resolve 

"With arbitrary consequences, strained 

"By rancorous effort from the thinnest motes 

"Of possibility?—cite hideous lists 

"Of sins irrelevant, to frighten me 

"With bugbears’ names, as women fright a child? 

"Poor pallid wisdom, taught by inference 

"From blood-drained life, where phantom terrors rule, 

"And all achievement is to leave undone! 

"Paint the day dark, make sunshine cold to me, 

"Abolish the earth’s fairness, prove it all 

"A fiction of my eyes,—then, after that, Profane Fedalma. 

"Prior. 

"O, there is no need: 

"She has profaned herself. Go, raving man, 

"And see her dancing now. Go, see your bride 

"Flaunting her beauties grossly in the gaze 

"Of vulgar idlers,—eking out the show 

"Made in the Plaça by a mountebank. 

"I hinder you no farther. 

"Don Silva. 

"It is false! 

"Prior. Go, prove it false, then."

................................................................................................

"If he spoke truth! 

"To know were wound enough,—to see the truth 

"Were fire upon the wound. It must be false! 

"His hatred saw amiss, or snatched mistake 

"In other men’s report. I am a fool! 

"But where can she be gone? gone secretly? 

"And in my absence? O, she meant no wrong! 

"I am a fool!—But, where can she be gone? 

"With only Inez? O, she meant no wrong! 

"I swear she never meant it. There’s no wrong 

"But she would make it momentary right 

"By innocence in doing it…. And yet, 

"What is our certainty? Why, knowing all 

"That is not secret. Mighty confidence!"

....

"[As Perez oped the door, 

"Then moved aside for passage of the Duke, 

"Fedalma entered, cast away the cloud 

"Of serge and linen, and outbeaming bright, 

"Advanced a pace towards Silva,—but then paused, 

"For he had started and retreated; she, 

"Quick and responsive as the subtle air 

"To change in him, divined that she must wait 

"Until they were alone: they stood and looked. 

"Within the Duke was struggling confluence 

"Of feelings manifold,—pride, anger, dread, 

"Meeting in stormy rush with sense secure 

"That she was present, with the satisfied thirst 

"Of gazing love, with trust inevitable 

"As in beneficent virtues of the light 

"And all earth’s sweetness, that Fedalma’s soul 

"Was free from blemishing purpose. Yet proud wrath 

"Leaped in dark flood above the purer stream 

"That strove to drown it: Anger seeks its prey,— 

"Something to tear with sharp-edged tooth and claw, 

"Likes not to go off hungry, leaving Love 

"To feast on milk and honeycomb at will."

"Fedalma 

"(advancing a step towards him with a sudden look of anxiety). 

"Are you angry? 

"Don Silva 

"(smiling bitterly). Angry? 

"A man deep-wounded may feel too much pain 

"To feel much anger. 

"Fedalma 

"(still more anxiously). 

"You—deep-wounded? 

"Don Silva. 

"Yes! Have I not made your place and dignity 

"The very heart of my ambition? You,— 

"No enemy could do it,—you alone 

"Can strike it mortally. 

"Fedalma. 

"Nay, Silva, nay. Has some one told you false? I only went 

"To see the world with Inez,—see the town, 

"The people, everything. It was no harm. 

"I did not mean to dance: it happened so 

"At last . . . . 

"Don Silva. 

"O God, it’s true then!—true that you, 

"A maiden nurtured as rare flowers are, 

"The very air of heaven sifted fine 

"Lest motes should mar your purity, 

"Have flung yourself out on the dusty way 

"For common eyes to see your beauty soiled! 

"You own it true,—you danced upon the Plaça? 

"Fedalma 

"(proudly). Yes, it is true. I was not wrong to dance. 

"The air was filled with music, with a song 

"That seemed the voice of the sweet eventide,— 

"The glowing light entering through eye and ear,— 

"That seemed our love,—mine, yours—they are but one,— 

"Trembling through all my limbs, as fervent words 

"Tremble within my soul and must be spoken. 

"And all the people felt a common joy 

"And shouted for the dance. A brightness soft 

"As of the angels moving down to see 

"Illumined the broad space. The joy, the life 

"Around, within me, were one heaven: I longed 

"To blend them visibly: I longed to dance 

"Before the people,—be as mounting flame 

"To all that burned within them! Nay, I danced; 

"There was no longing: I but did the deed 

"Being moved to do it. 

(As Fedalma speaks she and Don Silva are gradually drawn nearer to each other.) 

"O, I seemed new-waked 

"To life in unison with a multitude,— 

"Feeling my soul upborne by all their souls, 

"Floating within their gladness! Soon I lost 

"All sense of separateness: Fedalma died 

"As a star dies, and melts into the light. 

"I was not, but joy was, and love and triumph. 

"Nay, my dear lord, I never could do aught 

"But I must feel you present. And once done, 

"Why, you must love it better than your wish. 

"I pray you, say so,—say, it was not wrong! 

(While Fedalma has been making this last appeal, they have gradually come close together, and at last embrace.) 

"Don Silva 

:(holding her hands). Dangerous rebel! if the world without 

"Were pure as that within . .. . but ’t is a book 

"Wherein you only read the poesy 

"And miss all wicked meanings. Hence the need 

"For trust—obedience,—call it what you will,— 

"Towards him whose life will be your guard,—towards me 

"Who now am soon to be your husband. 

"Fedalma. 

"Yes! That very thing that when I am your wife 

"I shall be something different,—shall be 

"I know not what, a Duchess with new thoughts,— 

"For nobles never think like common men, 

"Nor wives like maidens (O, you wot not yet 

"How much I note, with all my ignorance),— 

"That very thing has made me more resolve 

"To have my will before I am your wife. 

"How can the Duchess ever satisfy 

"Fedalma’s unwed eyes? and so to-day 

"I scolded Inez till she cried and went."

....

"Don Silva. 

"It will be different when this war has ceased. 

"You, wedding me, will make it different, 

"Making one life more perfect. 

"Fedalma. 

"That is true! And I shall beg much kindness at your hands 

"For those who are less happy than ourselves.— 

"(Brightening.) O, I shall rule you! ask for many things 

"Before the world, which you will not deny 

"For very pride, lest men should say, 

"“The Duke Holds lightly by his Duchess; he repents 

"His humble choice.”"

....

"Don Silva. 

"Fear not, my Duchess! 

"Some knight who loves may say his lady-love 

"Is fairer, being fairest. None can say 

"Don Silva’s bride might better fit her rank. 

"You will make rank seem natural as kind, 

"As eagle’s plumage or the lion’s might. 

"A crown upon your brow would seem God-made."

....

"Fedalma. 

"Do you worship me? 

"Don Silva. 

"Ay, with that best of worship which adores Goodness adorable. 

"Fedalma 

"(archly). Goodness obedient, Doing your will, devoutest worshipper? 

"Don Silva. 

"Yes,—listening to this prayer. 

This very night I shall go forth. And you will rise with day 

"And wait for me? 

"Fedalma. 

"Yes. 

"Don Silva. 

"I shall surely come. And then we shall be married. Now I go 

"To audience fixed in Abderahman’s tower. 

"Farewell, love! 

(They embrace.) 

"Fedalma. 

"Some chill dread possesses me! 

"Don Silva. 

"O, confidence has oft been evil augury, 

"So dread may hold a promise. Sweet, farewell! 

"I shall send tendance as I pass, to bear 

"This casket to your chamber.—One more kiss. 

(Exit.)

................................................................................................

"The saints were cowards who stood by to see

" Christ crucified: they should have flung themselves 

"Upon the Roman spears, and died in vain,— 

"The grandest death, to die in vain,—for love 

"Greater than sways the forces of the world."

"Silva, sole love,—he came,—my father came. 

"I am the daughter of the Gypsy chief 

"Who means to be the Savior of our tribe. 

"He calls on me to live for his great end. 

"To live? Nay, die for it. Fedalma dies 

"In leaving Silva: all that lives henceforth Is the Zincala."

................................................................................................

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October 05, 2021 - October 06, 2021. 

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................................................................................................

Book II. 

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Book II proceeds from where Book I left off, with Dule Silva informed by his friend of the prior intent on inquisition of the bride, who's left a note to Silva before her flight. Silva, grieving yet not giving up, makes plans. 

Here George Eliot introduces the chief element of inquisition, the Jews persecuted and intent on saving, not only their own selves, but the race. However, she has them describe themselves in terms one cannot imagine them even thinking of! 

"Conceive, with all the vulgar, that we Jews 

"Must hold ourselves God’s outlaws, and defy 

"All good with blasphemy, because we hold 

"Your good is evil; think we must turn pale 

"To see our portraits painted in your hell, 

"And sin the more for knowing we. are lost."

Now why would anyone accept themselves God's outlaws, or that they hold the other God evil, just because their enemies accuse them thereof? This isn't true characterisation, it's silly! Jews are more likey to hold gentiles ridiculous for imagining that one of their own sons was - not only a God, but - the only one, and then proceeding to kill his blood relatives in his name. They are far more likely to keep silent, if not exposing this hypocrisy outright, as racist persecution of Jews by Rome, cloaking itself as holy for the purpose. 

But it's not all - George Eliot has Book II end in yet a few more twists, delivered swift one upon another, after the exquisite descriptions of grieving Silva and his plans set in motion for rescue of his love, from both, the Gypsy father of the bride as well as, subsequently, the prior. 

And here, she gives way to yet another prejudice - that of a gypsy being treacherous, of his being in cahoots against Christendom and selling them out to their enemies in crusades, for his own gains. 

................................................................................................

"Sephardo. 

"The Unnamable made not the search for truth 

"To suit hidalgos’ temper. I abide 

"By that wise spirit of listening reverence 

"Which marks the boldest doctors of our race. 

"For truth, to us, is like a living child 

"Born of two parents: if the parents part 

"And will divide the child, how shall it live? 

"Or, I will rather say: Two angels guide 

"The path of man, both aged and yet young, 

"As angels are, ripening through endless years. 

"On one he leans: some call her Memory, 

"And some, Tradition; and her voice is sweet, 

"With deep mysterious accords: the other, 

"Floating above, holds down a lamp which streams 

"A light divine and searching on the earth, 

"Compelling eyes and footsteps. Memory yields, 

"Yet clings with loving check, and shines anew 

"Reflecting all the rays of that bright lamp 

"Our angel Reason holds. We had not walked 

"But for Tradition; we walk evermore 

"To higher paths, by brightening Reason’s lamp. 

"Still we are purblind, tottering. I hold less 

"Than Aben-Ezra, of that aged lore 

"Brought by long centuries from Chaldæan plains; 

"The Jew-taught Florentine rejects it all."

....

"I weary your sick soul. Go now with me 

"Into the turret. We will watch the spheres, 

"And see the constellations bend and plunge 

"Into a depth of being where our eyes 

"Hold them no more. We’ll quit ourselves and be 

"Red Aldebaran or bright Sirius, 

"And sail as in a solemn voyage, bound 

"On some great quest we know not. 

"Don Silva. 

"Let us go. She may be watching too, and thought of her 

"Sways me, as if she knew, to every act 

"Of pure allegiance. 

"Sephardo. 

"That is love’s perfection,— 

"Tuning the soul to all her harmonies 

"So that no chord can jar. Now we will mount."

................................................................................................

"Lorenzo. 

"Well met, friend. 

"Blasco. 

"Ay, for we are soon to part, 

:And I would see you at the hostelry, 

"To take my reckoning. I go forth to-day. 

"Lorenzo. 

"’T is grievous parting with good company. 

"I would I had the gold to pay such guests 

"For all my pleasure in their talk. 

"Blasco. 

"Why, yes; A solid-headed man of Aragon 

"Has matter in him that you Southerners lack. 

"You like my company,—’t is natural. 

"But, look you, I have done my business well, 

"Have sold and ta’en commissions. I come straight 

"From—you know who—I like not naming him. 

"I’m a thick man: you reach not my backbone 

"With any tooth-pick. But I tell you this: 

"He reached it with his eye, right to the marrow! 

"It gave me heart that I had plate to sell, 

"For, saint or no saint, a good silversmith 

"Is wanted for God’s service; and my plate— 

"He judged it well—bought nobly. 

"Lorenzo. 

"A great man, And holy! Blasco. Yes, I’m glad I leave to-day. 

"For there are stories give a sort of smell,— 

"One’s nose has fancies. A good trader, sir, 

"Likes not this plague of lapsing in the air, 

"Most caught by men with funds. And they do say 

"There’s a great terror here in Moors and Jews, 

"I would say., Christians of unhappy blood. 

"’T is monstrous, sure, that men of substance lapse, 

"And risk their property. I know I’m sound. 

"No heresy was ever bait to me. 

"Whate’er Is the right faith, that I believe,—naught else. 

"Lorenzo. 

"Ay, truly, for the flavor of true faith 

"Once known must sure be sweetest to the taste. 

"But an uneasy mood is now abroad 

"Within the town; partly, for that the Duke 

"Being sorely sick, has yielded the command 

"To Don Diego, a most valiant man, 

"More Catholic than the Holy Father’s self, 

"Half chiding God that he will tolerate 

"A Jew or Arab; though ’t is plain they’re made 

"For profit of good Christians. And weak heads— 

"Panic will knit all disconnected facts— 

"Draw hence belief in evil auguries, 

"Rumors of accusation and arrest, 

"All air-begotten. Sir, you need not go. 

"But if it must be so, I’ll follow you 

"In fifteen minutes,—finish marketing, 

"Then be at home to speed you on your way. 

"Blasco. 

"Do so. I’ll back to Saragossa straight. 

"The court and nobles are retiring now 

"And wending northward. There’ll be fresh demand 

"For bells and images against the Spring, 

"When doubtless our great Catholic sovereigns 

"Will move to conquest of these eastern part, 

"And cleanse Granáda from the infidel. 

"Stay, sir, with God, until we meet again!"

................................................................................................

"Lorenzo. 

"Good day, my mistress. How’s your merchandise? 

"Fit for a host to buy? Your apples now, 

"They have fair cheeks; how are they at the core? 

"Market-Woman. 

"Good, good, sir! Taste and try. 

"See, here is one Weighs a man’s head. 

"The best are bound with tow: 

"They’re worth the pains, to keep the peel from splits. 

"(She takes out an apple bound with tow, and, as she puts it into Lorenzo’s hand, speaks in a lower tone.) 

"’T is called the Miracle. You open it. And find it full of speech." 

"Lorenzo. 

"Ay, give it me, I’ll take it to the Doctor in the tower. 

"He feeds on fruit, and if he likes the sort 

"I’ll buy them for him. Meanwhile, drive your ass 

"Round to my hostelry. I’ll straight be there. 

"You’ll not refuse some barter? 

"Market-Woman. 

"No, not I. Feathers and skins. 

"Lorenzo. 

"Good, till we meet again.

................................................................................................

"A Letter. 

“Zarca, the chieftain of the Zincali, greets 

"The King El Zagal. Let the force be sent 

"With utmost swiftness to the Pass of Luz. 

"A good five hundred added to my bands 

"Will master all the garrison: the town 

"Is half with us, and will not lift an arm 

"Save on our side. My scouts have found a way 

"Where once we thought the fortress most secure: 

"Spying a man upon the height, they traced, 

"By keen conjecture piecing broken sight, 

"His downward path, and found its issue. 

"There A file of us can mount, surprise the fort 

"And give the signal to our friends within 

"To ope the gates for our confederate bands, 

"Who will lie eastward ambushed by the rocks, 

"Waiting the night. Enough; give me command, 

"Bedmár is yours. Chief Zarca will redeem 

"His pledge of highest service to the Moor: 

"Let the Moor too be faithful and repay 

"The Gypsy with the furtherance he needs 

"To lead his people over Bahr el Scham 

"And plant them on the shore of Africa. 

"So may the King El Zagal live as one 

"Who, trusting Allah will be true to him, 

"Maketh himself as Allah true to friends.”"

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October 06, 2021 - October 07, 2021. 

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Book III. 

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George Eliot begins with a description of the journey into Moorish controlled parts of Spain, but errs when she describes gypsy lives, in saying "little swarthy tents Such as of old perhaps on Asian plains,"! 

Asian plains? Tents are common to all nomadic life, which naturally includes shepherds of central Asia, but they characterise mainly Arab and Mongolian landscapes - and, contiguously, Siberian and Lapland nomadic life. Asia is far from dominated by plains, or by tents. It isn't only Himaalayan ranges that belong to Asia, but many, many more. And architecture such as that of India has boggled minds of all invaders, who sought chiefly to destroy it and wipe out all possible signs thereof, so as to lie about it and insist that it was they who brought building to India. 

George Eliot moreover, consciously or otherwise, goes with the biblical, abrahmic, culminating in islamic prejudice about soul and spirit being exclusively male, while females contributing only the body of progeny, in saying "father’s light Flashing in coal-black eyes, the mother’s blood With bounteous elements feeding their young limbs."! Shouldn't she have known better? What with being not only not brought up as a Muslim- and thereby escaping being taught she had no soul - she was herself, not only an intediligent woman, but an intellectual one; did she believe she'd received everything only from her male ancestry, while females gave only body? Did she believe she'd give nothing of her mind, spirit and soul, to her children? Did she really buy into this flesh and blood oven theory of womanhood? 

An interesting detail, is that a poem titled "Roses", included in the Delphi collection of complete works of George Eliot, is an excerpt from Book III.

................................................................................................

"Quit now the town, and with a journeying dream 

"Swift as the wings of sound yet seeming slow 

"Through multitudinous compression of stored sense 

"And spiritual space, see walls and towers 

"Lie in the silent whiteness of a trance, 

"Giving no sign of that warm life within 

"That moves and murmurs through their hidden heart. 

"Pass o’er the mountain, wind in sombre shade, 

"Then wind into the light and see the town 

"Shrunk to white crust upon the darker rock. 

"Turn east and south, descend, then rise again 

"’Mid smaller mountains ebbing towards the plain: 

"Scent the fresh breath of the height-loving herbs 

"That, trodden by the pretty parted hoofs 

"Of nimble goats, sigh at the innocent bruise, 

"And with a mingled difference exquisite 

"Pour a sweet burden on the buoyant air. 

"Pause now and be all ear. Far from the south, 

"Seeking the listening silence of the heights, 

"Comes a slow-dying sound,—the Moslems’ call 

"To prayer in afternoon. Bright in the sun 

"Like tall white sails on a green shadowy sea 

"Stand Moorish watch-towers: ‘neath that eastern sky 

"Couches unseen the strength of Moorish Baza; 

"Where the meridian bends lies Guadix, hold 

"Of brave El Zagal. This is Moorish land, 

"Where Allah lives unconquered in dark breasts 

"And blesses still the many-nourishing earth 

"With dark-armed industry. See from the steep 

"The scattered olives hurry in grey throngs 

"Down towards the valley, where the little stream 

"Parts a green hollow ’twixt the gentler slopes; 

"And in that hollow, dwellings: not white homes 

"Of building Moors, but little swarthy tents 

"Such as of old perhaps on Asian plains, 

"Or wending westward past the Caucasus, 

"Our fathers raised to rest in."

....

"These are the brood of Zarca’s Gypsy tribe; 

"Most like an earth-born race bred by the Sun 

"On some rich tropic soil, the father’s light 

"Flashing in coal-black eyes, the mother’s blood 

"With bounteous elements feeding their young limbs. 

"The stalwart men and youths are at the wars 

"Following their chief, all save a trusty band 

"Who keep strict watch along the northern heights."

................................................................................................

"Hinda. 

"Queen, a branch of roses,— So sweet, you’ll love to smell them. 

"’T was the last. I climbed the bank to get it before Tralla, 

"And slipped and scratched my arm. 

"But I don’t mind. You love the roses,—so do I. 

"I wish The sky would rain down roses, as they rain 

"From off the shaken bush. Why will it not? 

"Then all the valley would be pink and white 

"And soft to tread on. They would fall as light 

"As feathers, smelling sweet; and it would be 

"Like sleeping and yet waking, all at once! 

"Over the sea, Queen, where we soon shall go, 

"Will it rain roses? 

"Fedalma. 

"No, my prattler, no! 

"It never will rain roses: when we want 

"To have more roses we must plant more trees. 

"But you want nothing, little one,—the world 

"Just suits you as it suits the tawny squirrels. 

"Come, you want nothing. 

"Hinda. 

"Yes, I want more berries,— 

"Red ones,—to wind about my neck and arms 

"When I am married,—on my ankles too 

"I want to wind red berries, and on my head. 

"Fedalma. 

"Who is it you are fond of? Tell me, now. 

"Hinda. 

"O Queen, yon know! It could be no one else 

"But Ismaël. He catches birds,—no end! 

"Knows where the speckled fish are, scales the rocks, 

"And sings and dances with me when I like. 

"How should I marry and not marry him? 

"Fedalma. 

"Should you have loved him, had he been a Moor, 

"Or white Castilian? 

"Hinda 

"(starting to her feet, then kneeling again). 

"Are you angry, Queen? 

"Say why you will think shame of your poor Hinda? 

"She’d sooner be a rat and hang on thorns 

"To parch until the wind had scattered her, 

"Than be an outcast, spit at by her tribe. 

"Fedalma. 

"Hinda, I know you are a good Zincala. 

"But would you part from Ismaël? leave him now 

"If your chief bade you,—said it was for good 

"To all your tribe that you must part from him? 

"Hinda 

"(giving a sharp cry). Ah, will he say so? 

"Fedalma 

"(almost fierce in her earnestness). Nay, child, answer me. 

"Could you leave Ismaël? get into a boat 

"And see the waters widen ’twixt you two 

"Till all was water and you saw him not, 

"And knew that you would never see him more? 

"If ’t was your chiefs command, and if he said 

"Your tribe would all be slaughtered, die of plague. 

"Of famine,—madly drink each other’s blood…. 

"Hinda 

"(trembling). O Queen, if it is so, tell Ismaël. 

"Fedalma. 

"You would obey, then? part from him for ever? 

"Hinda. 

"How could we live else? With our brethren lost?— 

"No marriage feast? The day would turn to dark. 

"Zincala cannot live without their tribe. 

"I must obey! Poor Ismaël—poor Hinda! 

"But will it ever be so cold and dark? 

"O, I would sit upon the rocks and cry, 

"And cry so long that I could cry no more: 

"Then I should go to sleep. 

"Fedalma. 

"No, Hinda. no! 

"Thou never shalt be called to part from him. 

"I will have berries for thee, red and black, 

"And I will be so glad to see thee glad, 

"That earth will seem to hold enough of joy 

"To outweigh all the pangs of those who part. 

"Be comforted, bright eyes. See, I will tie 

"These roses in a crown, for thee to wear."

................................................................................................

"Fedalma (alone). 

"She has the strength I lack. Within her world 

"The dial has not stirred since first she woke: 

"No changing light has made the shadows die, 

"And taught her trusting soul sad difference. 

"For her, good, right, and law are all summed up 

"In what is possible; life is one web 

"Where love, joy, kindred, and obedience 

"Lie fast and even, in one warp and woof 

"With thirst and drinking, hunger, food, and sleep. 

"She knows no struggles, sees no double path: 

"Her fate is freedom, for her will is one 

"With the Zincalo’s law, the only law 

"She ever knew. For me—O, I have fire within, 

"But on my will there falls the chilling snow 

"Of thoughts that come as subtly as soft flakes, 

"Yet press at last with hard and icy weight. 

"I could be firm, could give myself the wrench 

"And walk erect, hiding my life-long wound, 

"If I but saw the fruit of all my pain 

"With that strong vision which commands the soul, 

"And makes great awe the monarch of desire. 

"But now I totter, seeing no far goal: 

"I tread the rocky pass, and pause and grasp, 

"Guided by flashes. When my father comes, 

"And breathes into my soul his generous hope,— 

"By his own greatness making life seem great, 

"As the clear heavens bring sublimity. 

"And show earth larger, spanned by that blue vast,— 

"Resolve is strong: I can embrace my sorrow, 

"Nor nicely weigh the fruit; possessed with need 

"Solely to do the noblest, though it failed,— 

"Though lava streamed upon my breathing deed 

"And buried it in night and barrenness. 

"But soon the glow dies out, the warriors music 

"That vibrated as strength through all my limbs 

"Is heard no longer; over the wide scene 

"There’s naught but chill grey silence, or the hum 

"And fitful discord of a vulgar world. 

"Then I sink helpless,—sink into the arms 

"Of all sweet memories, and dream of bliss: 

"See looks that penetrate like tones; hear tones 

"That flash looks with them. Even now I feel 

"Soft airs enwrap me, as if yearning rays 

"Of some far presence touched me with their warmth 

"And brought a tender murmuring 

"[While she mused, A figure came from out the olive trees 

"That bent close-whispering ’twixt the parted hills 

"Beyond the crescent of thick cactus: paused 

"At sight of her; then slowly forward moved 

"With careful footsteps, saying in softest tones, “Fedalma!” 

"Fearing lest fancy had enslaved her sense, 

"She quivered, rose, but turned not. 

"Soon again: “Fedalma, it is Silva!” Then she turned. 

"He, with bared head and arms entreating, beamed 

"Like morning on her. Vision held her still 

"One moment, then with gliding motion swift, 

"Inevitable as the melting stream’s, 

"She found her rest within his circling arms.] 

"Fedalma. 

"O love, you are living, and believe in me! 

"Don Silva. 

"Once more we are together. Wishing dies,— Stifled with bliss. 

"Fedalma. 

"You did not hate me, then,— 

"Think me an ingrate,—think my love was small 

"That I forsook you? 

"Don Silva. 

"Dear, I trusted you 

"As holy men trust God. You could do naught 

"That was not pure and loving,—though the deed 

"Might pierce me unto death. You had less trust, 

"Since you suspected mine. ’T was wicked doubt. 

"Fedalma. 

"Nay, when I saw you hating me the blame 

"Seemed in my lot alone,—the poor Zincala’s,—her 

"On whom you lavished all your wealth of love 

"As price of naught but sorrow. Then I said, 

"“’T is better so. He will be Happier!” 

"But soon that thought, struggling to be a hope, 

"Would end in tears. 

"Don Silva. 

"It was a cruel thought. Happier! True misery is not begun 

"Until I cease to love thee."

................................................................................................

"Fedalma 

(retreating a little, but keeping his hand). 

"Silva, if now between us came a sword, 

"Severed my arm, and left our two hands clasped. 

"This poor maimed arm would feel the clasp till death. 

"What parts us is a sword…. 

"(Zarca has been advancing in the background. He has drawn his sword and now thrusts the naked blade between them. Silva lets go Fedalma’s hand, and grasps his sword. Fedalma, startled at first, stands firmly, as if prepared to interpose between her Father and the Duke.) 

"Zarca. 

"Ay, ’t is a sword 

"That parts the Spaniard and the Zincala: 

"A sword that was baptised in Christian blood, 

"When once a band, cloaking with Spanish law 

"Their brutal rapine, would have butchered us, 

"And then outraged our women. 

(Resting the point of his sword on the ground.) 

"My lord Duke, I was a guest within your fortress once 

"Against my will; had entertainment too,— 

"Much like a galley-slave’s. Pray, have you sought 

"The poor Zincalo’s camp, to find a fit return 

"For that Castilian courtesy? or rather 

"To make amends for all our prisoned toil 

"By this great honor of your unasked presence? 

"Don Silva. 

"Chief I have brought no scorn to meet your scorn. 

"I came because love urged me,—that deep love 

"I bear to her whom you call daughter,—her W

"hom I reclaim as my betrothed bride. 

"Zarca. 

"Doubtless yon bring for final argument 

"Your men-at-arms who will escort your bride? 

"Don Silva. 

"I came alone. The only force I bring 

"Is tenderness. Nay, I will trust besides 

"In all the pleadings of a father’s care 

"To wed his daughter as her nurture bids. 

"And for your tribe,—whatever purposed good 

"Your thoughts may cherish, I will make secure 

"With the strong surety of a noble’s power: 

"My wealth shall be your treasury. 

"Zarca 

"(with irony). 

"My thanks! To me you offer liberal price; for her 

"Your love’s beseeching will be force supreme. 

"She will go with you as a willing slave, 

"Will give a word of parting to her father, 

"Wave farewells to her tribe, then turn and say: 

"“Now, my lord, I am nothing but your bride; 

"I am quite culled, have neither root nor trunk, 

"Now wear me with your plume!” 

"Don Silva. 

"Yours is the wrong 

"Feigning in me one thought of her below 

"The highest homage. I would make my rank 

"The pedestal of her worth; a noble’s sword, 

"A noble’s honor, her defence; his love 

"The life-long sanctuary of her womanhood. 

"Zarca. 

"I tell you, were you King of Aragon, 

"And won my daughter’s hand, your higher rank 

"Would blacken her dishonor. ’T were excuse 

"If you were beggared, homeless, spit upon, 

"And so made even with her people’s lot; 

"For then she would be lured by want, not wealth, 

"To be a wife amongst an alien race 

"To whom her tribe owes curses. 

"Don Silva. 

"Such blind hate Is fit for beasts of prey, but not for men. 

"My hostile acts against you, should but count 

"As ignorant strokes against a friend unknown; 

"And for the wrongs inflicted on your tribe 

"By Spanish edicts or the cruelty 

"Of Spanish vassals, am I criminal? 

"Love comes to cancel all ancestral hate, 

"Subdues all heritage, proves that in mankind 

"There is a union deeper than division. 

"Zarca. 

"Ay, Such love is common: I have seen it oft,— 

"Seen many women rend the sacred ties 

"That bind them in high fellowship with men, 

"Making them mothers of a people’s virtue: 

"Seen them so levelled to a handsome steed 

"That yesterday was Moorish property, 

"To-day is Christian,—wears new-fashioned gear 

"Neighs to new feeders, and will prance alike 

"Under all banners, so the banner be 

"A master’s who caresses. Such light change 

"You call conversion; but we Zincali call 

"Conversion infamy. Our people’s faith 

"Is faithfulness; not the rote-learned belief 

"That we are heaven’s highest favorites, 

"But the resolve that, being most forsaken 

"Among the sons of men, we will be true 

"Each to the other, and our common lot. 

"You Christians burn men for their heresy: 

"Our vilest heretic is that Zincala 

"Who, choosing ease, forsakes her people’s woes. 

"The dowry of my daughter is to be 

"Chief woman of her tribe, and rescue it. 

"A bride with such a dowrv has no match 

"Among the subjects of that Catholic Queen 

"Who would have Gypsies swept into the sea 

"Or else would have them gibbeted. 

"Don Silva. 

"And you, Fedalma’s father ,—you who claim the dues 

"Of fatherhood,—will offer up her youth 

"To mere grim idols of your fantasy! 

"Worse than all Pagans, with no oracle 

"To bid you, no sure good to win, 

"Will sacrifice your daughter,—to no god, 

"But to a hungry fire within your soul, 

"Mad hopes, blind hate, that like possessing fiends 

"Shriek at a name! This sweetest virgin, reared 

"As garden flowers, to give the sordid world 

"Glimpses of perfectness, you snatch and thrust 

"On dreary wilds; in visions mad, proclaim 

"Semiramis of Gypsy wanderers; 

"Doom, with a broken arrow in her heart, 

"To wait for death ’mid squalid savages: 

"For what? You would be savior of your tribe; 

"So said Fedalma’s letter; rather say, 

"You have the will to save by ruling men. 

"But first to rule; and with that flinty will 

"You cut your way, though the first cut you give 

"Gash your child’s bosom. 

"(While Silva has been speaking, with growing passion, Fedalma has placed herself between him and her father.) 

"Zarca 

"(with calm irony). 

"You are loud, my lord! 

"You only are the reasonable man; 

"You have a heart, I none. Fedalma’s’ good 

"Is what you see, you care for; while I seek 

"No good, not even my own, urged on by naught 

"But hellish hunger, which must still be fed 

"Though in the feeding it I suffer throes. 

"Fume at your own opinion, as you will: 

"I speak not now to you, but to my daughter. 

"If she still calls it good to mate with you, 

"To be a Spanish duchess, kneel at court, 

"And hope her beauty is excuse to men 

"When women whisper, “She was a Zincala”; 

"If she still calls it good to take a lot 

"That measures joy for her as she forgets 

"Her kindred and her kindred’s misery, 

"Nor feel the softness of her downy couch 

"Marred by remembrance that she once forsook 

"The place that she was born to,—let her go! 

"If life for her still lies in alien love, 

"That forces her to shut her soul from truth 

"As men in shameful pleasures shut out day; 

"And death, for her, is to do rarest deeds, 

"Which, even failing, leave new faith to men, 

"The faith in human hearts,—then, let her go! 

"She is my only offspring; in her veins 

"She bears the blood her tribe has trusted in; 

"Her heritage is their obedience, 

"And if I died, she might still lead them forth 

"To plant the race her lover now reviles 

"Where they may make a nation, and may rise 

"To grander manhood than his race can show; 

"Then live a goddess, sanctifying oaths, 

"Enforcing right, and ruling consciences, 

"By law deep-graven in exalting deeds, 

"Through the long ages of her people’s life. 

"If she can leave that lot for silken shame, 

"For kisses honeyed by oblivion,— 

"The bliss of drunkards or the blank of fools,— 

"Then let her go! You Spanish Catholics, 

"When you are cruel, base, and treacherous, 

"For ends not pious, tender gifts to God, 

"And for men’s wounds offer much oil to churches: 

"We have no altars for such healing gifts 

"As soothe the heavens for outrage done on earth. 

"We have no priesthood and no creed to teach 

"That the Zincala who might save her race 

"And yet abandons it, may cleanse that blot, 

"And mend the curse her life has been to men, 

"By saving her own soul. Her one base choice 

"Is wrong unchangeable, is poison shed 

"Where men must drink, shed by her poisoning will. 

"Now choose, Fedalma! 

"[But her choice was made. 

"Slowly, while yet her father spoke, she moved 

"From where oblique with deprecating arms 

"She stood between the two who swayed her heart: 

"Slowly she moved to choose sublimer pain; 

"Yearning, yet shrinking; wrought upon by awe, 

"Her own brief life seeming a little isle 

"Remote through visions of a wider world 

"With fates close-crowded; firm to slay her joy 

"That cut her heart with smiles beneath the knife, 

"Like a sweet babe foredoomed by prophecy. 

"She stood apart, yet near her father: stood 

"Hand clutching hand, her limbs all tense with will 

"That strove against her anguish, eyes that seemed a soul 

"Yearning in death towards him she loved and left. 

"He faced her, pale with passion and a will 

"Fierce to resist whatever might seem strong 

"And ask him to submit: he saw one end,— 

"He must be conqueror; monarch of his lot 

"And not its tributary. But she spoke 

"Tenderly, pleadingly.] 

"Fedalma. 

"My lord, farewell! 

"’T was well we met once more; now we must part. 

"I think we had the chief of all love’s joys 

"Only in knowing that we loved each other. 

"Silva. 

"I thought we loved with love that clings till death, 

"Clings as brute mothers bleeding to their young, 

"Still sheltering, clutching it, though it were dead; 

"Taking the death-wound sooner than divide. 

"I thought we loved so. 

"Fedalma. 

"Silva, it is fate. 

"Great Fate has made me heiress of this woe. 

"You must forgive Fedalma all her debt: 

"She is quite beggared: if she gave herself, 

"’T would be a self corrupt with stifled thoughts 

"Of a forsaken better. It is truth 

"My father speaks: the Spanish noble’s wife 

"Would be false Zincala. I will bear 

"The heavy trust of my inheritance. 

"See, ’t was my people’s life that throbbed in me; 

"An unknown need stirred darkly in my soul, 

"And made me restless even in my bliss. 

"O, all my bliss was in our love; but now 

"I may not taste it: some deep energy 

"Compels me to choose hunger. 

"Dear, farewell! I must go with my people. 

"[She stretched forth 

"Her tender hands, that oft had lain in his, 

"The hands he knew so well, that sight of them 

"Seemed like their touch. But he stood still as death; 

"Locked motionless by forces opposite: 

"His frustrate hopes still battled with despair; 

"His will was prisoner to the double grasp 

"Of rage and hesitancy. All the travelled way 

"Behind him, he had trodden confident, 

"Ruling munificently in his thought 

"This Gypsy father. Now the father stood 

"Present and silent and unchangeable 

"As a celestial portent. Backward lay 

"The traversed road, the town’s forsaken wall, 

"The risk, the daring; all around him now 

"Was obstacle, save where the rising flood 

"Of love close pressed by anguish of denial 

"Was sweeping him resistless; save where she 

"Gazing stretched forth her tender hands, that hurt 

"Like parting kisses. Then at last he spoke.] 

"Don Silva. 

"No, I can never take those hands in mine, 

"Then let them go for ever! 

"Fedalma. 

"It must be. 

"We may not make this world a paradise 

"By walking it together hand in hand, 

"With eyes that meeting feed a double strength. 

"We must be only joined by pains divine 

"Of spirits blent in mutual memories. 

"Silva, our joy is dead. 

"Don Silva. 

"But love still lives, 

"And has a safer guard in wretchedness. 

"Fedalma, women know no perfect love: 

"Loving the strong, they can forsake the strong; 

"Man clings because the being whom he loves 

"Is weak and needs him. I can never turn 

"And leave you to your difficult wandering; 

"Know that you tread the desert, bear the storm, 

"Shed tears, see terrors, faint with weariness, 

"Yet live away from you, I should feel naught 

"But your imagined pains: in my own steps 

"See your feet bleeding, taste your silent tears, 

"And feel no presence but your loneliness. 

"No, I will never leave you! 

"Zarca. 

"My lord Duke, I have been patient, given room for speech, 

"Bent not to move my daughter by command, 

"Save that of her own faithfulness. But now, 

"All further words are idle elegies 

"Unfitting times of action. You are here 

"With the safe-conduct of that trust you showed 

"Coming alone to the Zincolo camp. 

"I would fain meet all trust with courtesy 

"As well as honor; but my utmost power 

"Is to afford you Gypsy guard to-night 

"Within the tents that keep the northward lines, 

"And for the morrow, escort on your way 

"Back to the Moorish bounds. 

"Don Silva. 

"What if my words 

"Were meant for deeds, decisive as a leap 

"Into the current? It is not my wont 

"To utter hollow words, and speak resolves 

"Like verses bandied in a madrigal. 

"I spoke in action first: I faced all risks 

"To find Fedalma. Action speaks again 

"When I, a Spanish noble, here declare 

"That I abide with her, adopt her lot, 

"Claiming alone fulfilment of her vows 

"As my betrothed wife. 

"Fedalma 

(wresting herself from him and standing opposite with a look of terror). 

"Nay, Silva, nay! 

"You could not live so; spring from your high place…. 

"Don Silva. 

"Yes, I have said it. And you, chief, are bound 

"By her strict vows, no stronger fealty 

"Being left to cancel them."

"Zarca. 

"Strong words, my lord! 

"Sounds fatal as the hammer-strokes that shape 

"The glowing metal: they must shape your life. 

"That you will claim my daughter is to say 

"That you will leave your Spanish dignities, 

"Your home, your wealth, your people, to become 

"A true Zincalo: share your wanderings, 

"And be a match meet for my daughter’s dower 

"By living for her tribe; take the deep oath 

"That binds you to us; rest within our camp, 

"Show yourself no more in the Spanish ranks, 

"And keep my orders. See, my lord, you lock 

"A chain of many links,—a heavy chain. 

"Don Silva. 

"I have but one resolve: let the rest follow. 

"What is my rank? To-morrow it will be filled 

"By one who eyes it like a carrion bird, 

"Waiting for death. I shall be no more missed 

"Than waves are missed that leaping on the rock 

"Find there a bed and rest? Life’s a vast sea 

"That does its mighty errand without fail, 

"Panting in unchanged strength though waves are changing. 

"And I have said it. She shall be my people, 

"And where she gives her life I will give mine. 

"She shall not live alone, nor die alone. 

"I will elect my deeds, and be the liege, 

"Not of my birth, but of that good alone 

"I have discerned and chosen. 

"Zarca. 

"Our poor faith 

"Allows not rightful choice, save of the right 

"Our birth has made for us. And you, my lord, 

"Can still defer your choice, for some day’s space. 

"I march perforce to-night; you, if you will, 

"Under Zincalo guard, can keep the heights 

"With silent Time that slowly opes the scroll 

"Of change inevitable; can reserve your oath 

"Till my accomplished task leave me at large 

"To see you keep your purpose or renounce it. 

"Don Silva. 

"Chief, do I hear amiss, or does your speech 

"Ring with a doubleness which I had held 

"Most alien to you? You would put me off, 

"And cloak evasion with allowance? 

"No! We will complete our pledges. 

"I will take That oath which binds not me alone, but you, 

"To join my life for ever with Fedalma’s. 

"Zarca. Enough. I wrangle not,—time presses. 

"But the oath Will leave you that same post upon the heights; 

"Pledged to remain there while my absence lasts. 

"You are agreed, my lord? Don Silva. Agreed to all. 

"Zarca. 

"Then I will give the summons to our camp. 

"We will adopt you as a brother now, 

"In the Zincalo’s fashion. 

"[Exit Zarca. (Silva takes Fedalma’s hands.) 

"Fedalma. 

"O my lord! 1 think the earth is trembling: naught is firm. 

"Some terror chills me with a shadowy grasp. 

"Am I about to wake, or do you breathe 

"Here in this valley? Did the outer air 

"Vibrate to fatal words, or did they shake 

"Only my dreaming soul? You a Zincalo? 

"Don Silva. 

"Is then your love too faint to raise belief Up to that height? 

"Fedalma. 

"Silva, had you but said 

"That you would die,—that were an easy task 

"For you who oft have fronted death in war. 

"But so to live for me,—you, used to rule,— 

"You could not breathe the air my father breathes: 

"His presence is subjection. Go, my lord! 

"Fly, while there yet is time. Wait not to speak. 

"I will declare that I refused your love,— 

"Would keep no vows to you 

"Don Silva. 

"It is too late. 

"You shall not thrust me back to seek a good 

"Apart from you. And what good? Why, to face 

"Your absence,—all the want that drove me forth 

"To work the will of a more tyrannous friend 

"Than any uncowled father. Life at least 

"Gives choice of ills; forces me to defy, 

"But shall not force me to a weak defiance. 

"The power that threatened you, to master me, 

"That scorches like a cave-hid dragon’s breath, 

"Sure of its victory in spite of hate, 

"Is what I last will bend to,—most defy. 

"Your father has a chieftain’s ends, befitting 

"A soldier’s eye and arm: were he as strong 

"As the Moors’ prophet, yet the prophet too 

"Had younger captains of illustrious fame 

"Among the infidels. Let him command, 

"For when your father speaks, I shall hear you. 

"Life were no gain if you were lost to me: 

"I would straight go and seek the Moorish walls, 

"Challenge their bravest, and embrace swift death. 

"The Glorious Mother and her pitying 

"Son Are not Inquisitors, else their heaven were hell. 

"Perhaps they hate their cruel worshippers, 

"And let them feed on lies. I’ll rather trust 

"They love you and have sent me to defend you. 

"Fedalma. 

"I made my creed so, just to suit my mood 

"And smooth all hardship, till my father came 

"And taught my soul by ruling it. Since then 

"I cannot weave a dreaming happy creed 

"Where our love’s happiness is not accursed. 

"My father shook my soul awake. And you,— 

"What the Zincala may not quit for you, 

"I cannot joy that you should quit for her. 

"Don Silva. 

"O, Spanish men are not a petty band 

"Where one deserter makes a fatal breach. 

"Men, even nobles, are more plenteous 

"Than steeds and armor; and my weapons left 

"Will find new hands to wield them. Arrogance 

"Makes itself champion of mankind, and holds 

"God’s purpose maimed for one hidalgo lost. 

"See where your father comes and brings a crowd 

"Of witnesses to hear my oath of love; 

"The low red sun glows on them like a fire; 

"This seems a valley in some strange new world, 

"Where we have found each other, my Fedalma."

................................................................................................

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October 07, 2021 - October 07, 2021. 

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Book IV. 

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"Now twice the day bad sunk from off the hills 

"While Silva kept his watch there, with the band 

"Of strong Zincali. When the sun was high 

"He slept, then, waking, strained impatient eyes 

"To catch the promise of some moving form 

"That might be Juan,—Juan who went and came 

"To soothe two hearts, and claimed naught for his own: 

"Friend more divine than all divinities, 

"Quenching his human thirst in others’ joy."

.... 

"But the third day, though Silva southward gazed 

"Till all the shadows slanted towards him, gazed 

"Till all the shadows died, no Juan came. 

"Now in his stead came loneliness, and thought 

"Inexorable, fastening with firm chain 

"What is to what hath been. Now awful Night, 

"Ancestral mystery of mysteries, came down 

"Past all the generations of the stars, 

"And visited his soul with touch more close 

"Than when he kept that younger, briefer watch 

"Under the church’s roof beside his arms, 

"And won his knighthood."

....

"Thought played him double; seemed to wear the yoke 

"Of sovereign passion in the noon-day height 

"Of passion’s prevalence; but served anon 

"As tribune to the larger soul which brought 

"Loud-mingled cries from every human need 

"That ages had instructed into life. He could not grasp 

"Night’s black blank mystery 

"And wear it for a spiritual garb 

"Creed-proof: he shuddered at its passionless touch 

"On solitary souls, the universe 

"Looks down inhospitable; the human heart 

"Finds nowhere shelter but in human kind."

....

"Now the former life 

"Of close-linked fellowship, the life that made 

"His full-formed self, as the impregnant sap 

"Of years successive frames the full-branched tree,— 

"Was present in one whole; and that great trust 

"His deed had broken turned reproach on him 

"From faces of all witnesses who heard 

"His uttered pledges; saw him take high place 

"Centring reliance; use rich privilege 

"That bound him like a victim-nourished god 

"To bless; assume the Cross and take his knightly oath 

"Mature, deliberate: faces human all, 

"And some divine as well as human: His 

"Who hung supreme, the suffering Man divine 

"Above the altar; Hers, the Mother pure 

"Whose glance informed his masculine tenderness 

"With deepest reverence; the Archangel armed, 

"Trampling man’s enemy: all heroic forms 

"That fill the world of faith with voices, hearts, 

"And high companionship, to Silva now 

"Made but one inward and insistent world 

"With faces of his peers, with court and hall 

"And deference, and reverent vassalage 

"And filial pieties,—one current strong, 

"The warmly mingled life-blood of his mind, 

"Sustaining him even when he idly played 

"With rules, beliefs, charges, and ceremonies 

"As arbitrary fooling. Such revenge 

"Is wrought by the long travail of mankind 

"On him who scorns it, and would shape his life 

"Without obedience. 

"But his warrior’s pride 

"Would take no wounds save on the breast. 

"He faced The fatal crowd: ‘“I never shall repent! 

"If I have sinned my sin was made for me 

"By men’s perverseness. There’s no blameless life 

"Save for the passionless, no sanctities 

"But have the selfsame roof and props with crime, 

"Or have their roots close interlaced with vileness. 

"If I had loved her less, been more a craven, 

"I had kept my place and had the easy praise 

"Of a true Spanish noble. But I loved, 

"And, loving, dared,—not Death the warrior 

"But Infamy that binds and strips and holds 

"The brand and lash. I have dared all for her. 

"She was my good,—what other men call heaven. 

"And for the sake of it bear penances; 

"Nay, some of old were baited, tortured, flayed 

"To win their heaven. Heaven was their good, 

"She, mine. And I have braved for her all fires 

"Certain or threatened; for I go away 

"Beyond the reach of expiation,—far away 

"From sacramental blessing. Does God bless 

"No outlaw? Shut his absolution fast In human breath? 

"Is there no God for me Save Him whose cross 

"I have forsaken?—Well, I am forever exiled,—but with her."

................................................................................................

"With these new comrades of his future,—he 

"Who had been wont to have his wishes feared 

"And guessed at as a hidden law for men. 

"Even the passive silence of the night. 

"That left these howlers mastery, even the moon, 

"Rising and staring with a helpless face; 

"Angered him. He was ready now to fly 

"At some loud throat, and give the signal so 

"For butchery of himself. But suddenly 

"The sounds that travelled towards no foreseen close 

"Were torn right off and fringed into the night; 

"Sharp Gypsy ears had caught the onward strain 

"Of kindred voices joining in the chant.’ 

"All started to their feet and mustered close, 

"Auguring long-waited summons. It was come: 

"The summons to set forth and join their chief. 

"Fedalma had been called already, and was gone 

"Under safe escort, Juan following her: 

"The camp—the women, children, and old men— 

"Were moving slowly southward on the way 

"To Almeria. Silva learned no more. 

"He marched perforce; what other goal was his 

"Than where Fedalma was? And so he marched 

"Through the dim passes and o’er rising hills, 

"Not knowing whither, till the morning came."

................................................................................................

"Zarca. 

"Welcome, Doctor; see 

"With that small task I did but beckon you 

"To graver work. You know these corpses? 

"Sephardo. 

"Yes. I would they were not corpses. Storms will lay 

"The fairest trees and leave the withered stumps. 

"This Alvar and the Duke were of one age, 

"And very loving friends. I minded not 

"The sight of Don Diego’s corpse, for death 

"Gave him some gentleness, and had he lived 

"I had still hated him. But this young Alvar 

"Was doubly noble, as a gem that holds 

"Rare virtues in its lustre, and his death 

"Will pierce Don Silva with a poisoned dart. 

"This fair and curly youth was Arias, 

"A son of the Pachecos; this dark face— 

"Zarca. 

"Enough! you know their names. I had divined 

"That they were near the Duke, most like had served 

"My daughter, were her friends. So rescued them 

"From being flung upon the heap of slain. 

"Beseech you, Doctor, if you owe me aught 

"As having served your people, take the pains 

"To see these bodied buried decently. 

"And let their names be writ above their graves, 

"As those of brave young Spaniards who died well. 

"I needs must bear this womanhood in my heart,— 

"Bearing my daughter there. For once she prayed,— 

"’T was at our parting,—“When you see fair hair 

"Be pitiful.” And I am forced to look 

"On fair heads living and be pitiless. 

"Your service, Doctor, will be done to her.

"Sephardo. 

"A service doubly dear. For these young dead, 

"And one less happy Spaniard who still lives, 

"Are offering which I wrenched from out my heart, 

"Constraint by cries of Israel: while my hands 

"Rendered the victims at command, my eyes 

"Closed themselves vainly, as if vision lay 

"Through those poor loopholes only. I will go 

"And see the graves dug by some cypresses. 

"Zarca. 

"Meanwhile the bodies shall rest here. 

"Farewell. 

"(Exit Sephardo.) 

"Nay, ’t is no mockery. She keeps me so 

"From hardening with the hardness of my acts. 

"This Spaniard shrouded in her love,—I would 

"He lay here too that I might pity him.."

................................................................................................

"Don Silva. 

"Chief, you are treacherous, cruel, devilish,— 

"Relentless as a curse that once let loose 

"From lips of’ wrath, lives bodiless to destroy, 

"And darkly traps a man in nets of guilt 

"Which could not weave themselves in open day 

"Before his eyes. ‘O, it was bitter wrong 

"To hold this knowledge locked within your mind, 

"To stand with waking eyes in broadest light, 

"And see me, dreaming, shed my kindred’s blood. 

"’T is’ horrible that men with hearts and hands 

"Should smile in silence like the firmament 

"And see a fellow-mortal draw a lot 

"On which themselves have written agony! 

"Such injury has no redress, no healing 

"Save what may lie in stemming further ill. 

"Poor balm for maiming! Yet I come to claim it. 

"Zarca. 

"First prove your wrongs, and I will hear your claim. 

"Mind, you are not commander of Bedmár, 

"Nor duke, nor knight, nor anything for me, 

"Save one Zincalo, one of my subject tribe, 

"Over whose deeds my will is absolute.

"You chose that lot, and would have railed at me 

"Had I refused it you: I warned you first 

"What oaths you had to take … 

"Don Silva. 

"You never warned me 

"That you had linked yourself with Moorish men 

"To take this town and fortress of Bedmár,— 

"Slay my near kinsman, him who held my place, 

"Our house’s heir and guardian,—slay my friend, . . 

"My chosen brother,—desecrate the church 

"Where once my mother held me in her arms, . 

"Making the holy chrism holier 

"With tears of joy that fell upon my brow! 

"You never warned…. 

"Zarca. 

"I warned you of your oath. 

"You shrank not, we’re resolved, were sure your place 

"Would never miss you, and you had your will. 

"I am no priest, and keep no consciences: 

"I keep my own place and my own command. 

"Don Silva. 

"I said my place would never miss me—yes! 

"A thousand Spaniards died on that same day 

"And were not missed; their garments clothed the backs 

"That else were bear 

"Zarca. 

"But you were just the one 

"Above the thousand, had you known the die 

"That fate was throwing then. 

"Don Silva. 

"You knew it,—you! 

"With fiendish knowledge, smiling at the end. 

"You knew what snares had made my flying steps 

"Murderous; you let me lock my soul with oaths 

"Which your acts made a hellish sacrament. 

"I say, you knew this as a fiend would know it, 

"And let me damn myself. 

"Zarca. 

"The deed was done 

"Before you took your oath, or reached our camp,— 

"Done when you slipped in secret from the post 

"’T was yours to keep, and not to meditate 

"If others might not fill it. For your oath, 

"What man is he who brandishes a sword 

"In darkness, kills his friends, and rages then 

"Against the night that kept him ignorant? 

"Should I, for one unstable Spaniard, quit 

"My steadfast ends as father and as chief; 

"Renounce my daughter and my people’s hope, 

"Lest a deserter should be made ashamed? 

"Don Silva. 

"Your daughter,—O great God! I vent but madness. 

"The past will never change. I come to stem 

"Harm that may yet be hindered. Chief—this stake— 

"Tell me who is to die! Are you not bound 

"Yourself to him you took in fellowship? 

"The town is yours; let me but save the blood 

"That still is warm in men who were my…. 

"Zarca. 

"Peace! They bring the prisoner"

....

"The prisoner was Father Isidor: 

"The man whom once he fiercely had accused 

"As author of his misdeeds,—whose designs 

"Had forced him into fatal secrecy. 

"The imperious and inexorable Will 

"Was yoked, and he who had been pitiless 

"To Silva’s love, was led to pitiless death. 

"O hateful victory of blind wishes,—prayers 

"Which hell had overheard and swift fulfilled! 

"The triumph was a torture, turning all 

"The strength of passion into strength of pain. 

"Remorse was born within him, that dire birth 

"Which robs all else of nurture,—cancerous, 

"Forcing each pulse to feed its anguish, changing 

"All sweetest residues of a healthy life 

"To fibrous clutches of slow misery. 

"Silva had but rebelled,—he was not free; 

"And all the subtle cords that bound his soul 

"Were tightened by the strain of one rash leap 

"Made in defiance. He accused no more, 

"But dumbly shrank before accusing throngs 

"Of thoughts, the impetuous recurrent rush 

"Of all his past-created, unchanged self."

................................................................................................

"The young bright morning cast athwart white walls 

"Her shadows blue, and with their clear-cut line, 

"Mildly inexorable as the dial-hand’s 

"Measured the shrinking future of an hour 

"Which held a. shrinking hope. And all the while 

"The silent beat of time in each man’s soul 

"Made aching pulses. But the cry, “She comes!” 

"Parted the crowd like waters: and she came. 

"Swiftly as once before, inspired with joy, 

"She flashed across the space and made new light, 

"Glowing upon the glow of evening, 

"So swiftly now she came, inspired with woe, 

"Strong with the strength of all her father’s pain, 

"Thrilling her as with fire of rage divine 

"And battling energy. She knew,—saw all: 

"The stake with Silva bound,—her father pierced,— 

"To this she had been born: the second time 

"Her father called her to the task of life. 

"She knelt beside him. Then he raised himself, 

"And on her face there flashed from his the light 

"As of a star that waned and flames anew 

"In mighty dissolution: ’t was the flame 

"Of a surviving trust, in agony. 

"He spoke the parting prayer that was command, 

"Must sway her will, and reign invisibly.] 

"Zarca. 

"My daughter, you have promised,—you will live 

"To save our people. In my garments here 

"I carry written pledges from the Moor: 

"He will keep faith in Spain and Africa. 

"Your weakness may be stronger than my strength, 

"Winning more love. I cannot tell the end. 

"I held my people’s good within my breast. 

"Behold, now, I deliver it to you. 

"See, it still breathes unstrangled,—if it dies, 

"Let not your failing will be murderer. 

"Rise, And tell our people now I wait in pain,— 

"I cannot die until I hear them say 

"They will obey you."

....

"Zarca. 

"Let loose the Spaniard! give him back his sword; 

"He cannot move to any vengeance more,— 

"His soul is locked ’twixt two opposing crimes. 

"I charge you let him go unharmed and free 

"Now through your midst"

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October 07, 2021 - October 08, 2021. 

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Book V. 

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"The eastward rooks of Almeria’s bay 

"Answer long farewells of the travelling sun 

"With softest glow as from an inward pulse 

"Changing and flushing: all the Moorish ships 

"Seem conscious too, and shoot out sudden shadows; 

"Their black hulls snatch a glory, and their sails 

"Show variegated radiance, gently stirred 

"Like broad wings poised."

....

"Motionless she stood, 

"Black-crowned with wreaths of many-shadowed hair; 

"Black-robed, but bearing wide upon her breast 

"Her father’s golden necklace and his badge. 

"Her limbs were motionless but in her eyes 

"And in her breathing lip’s soft tremulous curve 

"Was intense motion as of prisoned fire 

"Escaping subtly in outleaping thought. 

"She watches anxiously, and yet she dreams: 

"The busy moments now expand, now shrink 

"To narrowing swarms within the refluent space 

"Of changeful consciousness. For in her thought 

"Already she has left the fading shore, 

"Sails with her people, seeks an unknown land, 

"And bears the burning length of of weary days 

"That parching fall upon her father’s hope, 

"Which she must plant and see it wither only,— 

"Wither and die. She saw the end begun. 

"Zincali hearts were not unfaithful: she 

"Was centre to the savage loyalty 

"Which vowed obedience to Zarca dead. 

"But soon their natures missed the constant stress 

"Of his command, that, while it fired, restrained 

"By urgency supreme, and left no play 

"To fickle impulse scattering desire. 

"They loved their Queen, trusted in Zarca’s child, 

"Would bear her o’er the desert on their arms 

"And think the weight a gladsome victory; 

"But that great force which knit them into one, 

"The invisible passion of her father’s soul, 

"That wrought them visibly into its will, 

"And would have bound their lives with permanence, 

"Was gone."

....

"In a little while, the tribe 

"That was to be the ensign of the race, 

"And draw it into conscious union, 

"Itself would break in small and scattered bands 

"That, living on scant prey, would still disperse 

"And propagate forgetfulness. Brief years, 

"And that great purpose fed with vital fire 

"That might have glowed for half a century, 

"Subduing, quickening, shaping, like a sun,— 

"Would be a faint tradition, flickering low 

"In dying memories, fringing with dim light 

"The nearer dark. 

"Far, far the future stretched 

"Beyond the busy present on the quay, 

"Far her straight path beyond it. Yet she watched 

"To mark the growing hour, and yet in dream 

"Alternate she beheld another track, 

"And felt herself unseen pursuing it 

"Close to a wanderer, who with haggard gaze 

"Looked out on loneliness. The backward years— 

"O she would not forget them—would not drink 

"Of waters that brought rest, while he far off 

"Remembered “Father, I renounced the joy,— 

"You must forgive the sorrow.” 

"So she stood, 

"Her struggling life compressed into that hour, 

"Yearning, resolving, conquering; though she seemed 

Still as a tutelary image sent 

"To guard her people and to be the strength 

"Of some rock citadel."

"But emerging now 

"From eastward fringing lines of idling men 

"Quick Juan lightly sought the upward steps 

"Behind Fedalma, and two paces off, 

"With head uncovered, said in gentle tones, 

"“Lady Fedalma!”—(Juan’s password now 

"Used by no other,) and Fedalma turned, 

"Knowing who sought her. He advanced a step, 

"And meeting straight her large calm questioning gaze, 

"Warned her of some grave purport by a face 

"That told of trouble. Lower still he spoke."

"Juan. 

"Look from me, lady, towards a moving form 

"That quits the crowd and seeks the lonelier strand,— 

"A tall and gray-clad pilgrim…. 

"[Solemnly His low tones fell on her, as if she passed 

"Into religious dimness among tombs 

"And trod on names in everlasting rest. 

"Lingeringly she looked, and then with with voice 

"Deep and yet soft, like notes from some long chord 

"Responsive to thrilled air, said:]"

"Fedalma. 

"It is he! 

"[Juan kept silence for a little space, 

"With reverent caution, lest his lighter grief 

"Might seem a wanton touch upon her pain. 

"But time was urging him with visible flight, 

"Changing the shadows: he must, utter all.] 

"Juan. 

"That man was young when last I pressed his hand,— 

"In that dread moment when he left Bedmár. 

"He has aged since: the week has made him gray. 

"And yet I knew him,—knew the white-streaked hair 

"Before I saw his face, as I should know 

"The tear-dimmed writing of a friend. See now,— 

"Does he not linger,—pause?—perhaps except…. 

"[Juan plead timidly: Fedalma’s eyes 

"Flashed; and through all her frame there ran the shock 

"Of some sharp-wounding joy, like his who hastes 

"And dreads to come too late, and comes in time 

"To press a loved hand dying. She was mute 

"And made no gesture: all her being paused 

"In resolution, as some leonine wave 

"That makes a moment’s silence ere it leaps.] 

"Juan. 

"He came from Cathagena, in a boat 

"Too slight for safety; yon small two-oared boat 

"Below the rock; the fisher-boy within 

"Awaits his signal. But the pilgrim waits…. 

"Fedalma. 

"Yes, I will go!—Father, I owe him this, 

"For loving he made all his misery. 

"And we will look once more,—will say farewell 

"As in a solemn rite to strengthen us 

"For our eternal parting. Juan, stay 

"Here in my place, to warn me were there need. 

"And, Hinda, follow me!"

................................................................................................

"[He did not say “Farewell.” 

"But neither knew that he was silent. She, 

"For one long moment, moved not. They knew naught 

"Save that they parted.; for their mutual gaze 

"As with their soul’s full speech forbade their hands 

"To seek each other,—those oft-clasping hands 

"Which had a memory of their own, and went."

................................................................................................

"It was night 

"Before the ships weighed anchor and gave sail: 

"Fresh Night emergent in her clearness, lit 

"By the large crescent moon, with Hesperus, 

"And those great stars that lead the eager host. 

"Fedalma stood and watched the little bark 

"Lying jet-black upon moon-whitened waves. 

"Silva was standing too. He too divined 

"A steadfast form that held him with its thought, 

"And eyes that sought him vanishing: he saw 

"The waters widen slowly, till at last 

"Straining he gazed, and knew not if he gazed 

"On aught but blackness overhung by stars. ]"

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October 05, 2021 - October 08, 2021. 

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William Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh and London 1868

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Kindle Edition, 374 pages

Published April 4th 2016 

(first published 2005)

Original Title

The Spanish gypsy. A poem. 

By George Eliot.

ASIN:- B01DTRFP82

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https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/4277742303

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Paperback

Published June 20th 2016 

by Leopold Classic Library

ASIN:- B01HBFFWEU

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https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/4277742817

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October 05, 2021 - October 08, 2021. 

Paperback, 208 pages

Published October 13th 2018 

by Franklin Classics

ISBN:- 0342711512 

(ISBN13: 9780342711512)

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https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/4277743132

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October 05, 2021 - October 08, 2021. 

ebook, 500 pages

Published June 16th 2016 

by Routledge

ISBN:- 1315475871 

(ISBN13: 9781315475875)

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https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/4277743345

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