thyself, Pascual, as it seems Thou art but little formed for study, being Of a too warm and hasty temperament To find much solace in the student's page, Preferring lone rambles and sylvan sports To the uncertain fame a scholar seeks. To thee, and such as thee, the love of woman Thy ardent nature will not fail to find Out of the many one whom thou canst love. May she be virtuous as she is fair, And worthy of thy love as thou of hers. 427D. Pas. I thank thee, but as yet my heart is whole. May I dare hope yet that a time may come When a woman's love and a happy home To thee may not be all contemptible. Heigho! D. Alf. Thou sighest. Sure thou art in love. D. Pas. Not so, my friend, not yet. D. Alf. Then wherefore sigh? D. Pas. Thou hast awoke strange mem'ries in my mind— Events long past that I'd but all forgot. 'Tis nothing, thou'lt say—mere childish fancy. Prithee, friend Alfonso, tell me one thing. Dost really think I come of gipsy blood? D. Alf. What! Is it there the shoe still pinches? Ha! Fill up another bumper of this wine And wash down the word, else it will choke thee. D. Pas. Nay, I am serious, and would have thy word. Tell me in honour, now, what thou dost think. D. Alf. Bah! What matters it? Thou art somewhat dark; But, as thou well sayst, so are all our race. D. Pas. True. But what think'st thou? D. Alf. Faith! I cannot tell. Perhaps over dark for a Castilian. D. Pas. Ha! Say'st thou so? I've long thought so myself. And what confirms me in the thought is this, 428That ever since my earliest youth I've felt A strange affection for these gipsy tribes— A sympathy for their wild wandering life And fierce impatience at the cold restraints By which well-bred society doth cramp Our fervid passions. Friend, thou knowest me well. Thou sayest well I am not formed for study, That is to say, such studies as thine own— Th' intricacies of law, philosophy, The mysteries of theology, and all The lore for which you students sap your youth. My book is nature. In the open fields I've loved to lie at night and watch the stars, The various aspects of the changing moon, Or on the giddy mountain peak at morn To view the first beams of the rising sun As from the rosy horizon it climbs Up towards the purple zenith. At midday I love to rest me in the sylvan shade And watch the deer grazing on the rich turf, Or else in company of some jovial friends, Hunt these poor denizens from their peaceful haunts, And, heated with the chase, dismount and slake My parching thirst from out the neighbouring brook. 429Full oft in my wild wanderings I have passed Through desert places, where no dwelling was, And, overcome by hunger and fatigue, Have well nigh fainted, but in such cases, When human hospitality doth fail Nature comes to the rescue and procures Its roots and
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