the monk(僧侣)-第42节

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of　my　origin。　　You　forget　that　I　have　now　past　fourteen　years　in
Spain；　disavowed　by　my　Husband's　family；　and　existing　upon　a
stipend　barely　sufficient　for　the　support　and　education　of　my
Daughter。　　Nay；　I　have　even　been　neglected　by　most　of　my　own
Relations；　who　out　of　envy　affect　to　doubt　the　reality　of　my
marriage。　　My　allowance　being　discontinued　at　my　Father…in…law's
death；　I　was　reduced　to　the　very　brink　of　want。　　In　this
situation　I　was　found　by　my　Sister；　who　amongst　all　her　foibles
possesses　a　warm；　generous；　and　affectionate　heart。　　She　aided　me
with　the　little　fortune　which　my　Father　left　her；　persuaded　me　to
visit　Madrid；　and　has　supported　my　Child　and　myself　since　our
quitting　Murcia。　　Then　consider　not　Antonia　as　descended　from　the
Conde　de　la　Cisternas：　　Consider　her　as　a　poor　and　unprotected
Orphan；　as　the　Grand…child　of　the　Tradesman　Torribio　Dalfa；　as
the　needy　Pensioner　of　that　Tradesman's　Daughter。　　Reflect　upon
the　difference　between　such　a　situation；　and　that　of　the　Nephew
and　Heir　of　the　potent　Duke　of　Medina。　　I　believe　your　intentions
to　be　honourable；　But　as　there　are　no　hopes　that　your　Uncle　will
approve　of　the　union；　I　foresee　that　the　consequences　of　your
attachment　must　be　fatal　to　my　Child's　repose。'

'Pardon　me；　Segnora；　You　are　misinformed　if　you　suppose　the　Duke
of　Medina　to　resemble　the　generality　of　Men。　　His　sentiments　are
liberal　and　disinterested：　　He　loves　me　well；　and　I　have　no
reason　to　dread　his　forbidding　the　marriage　when　He　perceives
that　my　happiness　depends　upon　Antonia。　　But　supposing　him　to
refuse　his　sanction；　what　have　I　still　to　fear？　　My　Parents　are
no　more；　My　little　fortune　is　in　my　own　possession：　It　will　be
sufficient　to　support　Antonia；　and　I　shall　exchange　for　her　hand
Medina's　Dukedom　without　one　sigh　of　regret。'

'You　are　young　and　eager；　It　is　natural　for　you　to　entertain　such
ideas。　　But　Experience　has　taught　me　to　my　cost　that　curses
accompany　an　unequal　alliance。　　I　married　the　Conde　de　las
Cisternas　in　opposition　to　the　will　of　his　Relations；　Many　an
heart…pang　has　punished　me　for　the　imprudent　step。　　Whereever　we
bent　our　course；　a　Father's　execration　pursued　Gonzalvo。　　Poverty
overtook　us；　and　no　Friend　was　near　to　relieve　our　wants。　　Still
our　mutual　affection　existed；　but　alas！　not　without　interruption。

Accustomed　to　wealth　and　ease；　ill　could　my　Husband　support　the
transition　to　distress　and　indigence。　　He　looked　back　with
repining　to　the　comforts　which　He　once　enjoyed。　　He　regretted　the
situation　which　for　my　sake　He　had　quitted；　and　in　moments　when
Despair　possessed　his　mind；　has　reproached　me　with　having　made
him　the　Companion　of　want　and　wretchedness！　　He　has　called　me　his
bane！　　The　source　of　his　sorrows；　the　cause　of　his　destruction！　
Ah　God！　He　little　knew　how　much　keener　were　my　own　heart's
reproaches！　　He　was　ignorant　that　I　suffered　trebly；　for　myself；
for　my　Children；　and　for　him！　　'Tis　true　that　his　anger　seldom
lasted　long：　　His　sincere　affection　for　me　soon　revived　in　his
heart；　and　then　his　repentance　for　the　tears　which　He　had　made　me
shed　tortured　me　even　more　than　his　reproaches。　　He　would　throw
himself　on　the　ground；　implore　my　forgiveness　in　the　most　frantic
terms；　and　load　himself　with　curses　for　being　the　Murderer　of　my
repose。　　Taught　by　experience　that　an　union　contracted　against
the　inclinations　of　families　on　either　side　must　be　unfortunate；
I　will　save　my　Daughter　from　those　miseries　which　I　have
suffered。　Without　your　Uncle's　consent；　while　I　live；　She　never
shall　be　yours。　　Undoubtedly　He　will　disapprove　of　the　union；　His
power　is　immense；　and　Antonia　shall　not　be　exposed　to　his　anger
and　persecution。'

'His　persecution？　　How　easily　may　that　be　avoided！　Let　the　worst
happen；　it　is　but　quitting　Spain。　　My　wealth　may　easily　be
realised；　The　Indian　Islands　will　offer　us　a　secure　retreat；　I
have　an　estate；　though　not　of　value；　in　Hispaniola：　　Thither　will
we　fly；　and　I　shall　consider　it　to　be　my　native　Country；　if　it
gives　me　Antonia's　undisturbed　possession。'

'Ah！　Youth；　this　is　a　fond　romantic　vision。　　Gonzalvo　thought　the
same。　　He　fancied　that　He　could　leave　Spain　without　regret；　But
the　moment　of　parting　undeceived　him。　　You　know　not　yet　what　it
is　to　quit　your　native　land；　to　quit　it；　never　to　behold　it　more！

You　know　not；　what　it　is　to　exchange　the　scenes　where　you　have
passed　your　infancy；　for　unknown　realms　and　barbarous　climates！　
To　be　forgotten；　utterly　eternally　forgotten；　by　the　Companions
of　your　Youth！　　To　see　your　dearest　Friends；　the　fondest　objects
of　your　affection；　perishing　with　diseases　incidental　to　Indian
atmospheres；　and　find　yourself　unable　to　procure　for　them
necessary　assistance！　　I　have　felt　all　this！　　My　Husband　and　two
sweet　Babes　found　their　Graves　in　Cuba：　　Nothing　would　have　saved
my　young　Antonia　but　my　sudden　return　to　Spain。　　Ah！　Don　Lorenzo；
could　you　conceive　what　I　suffered　during　my　absence！　　Could　you
know　how　sorely　I　regretted　all　that　I　left　behind；　and　how　dear
to　me　was　the　very　name　of　Spain！　　I　envied　the　winds　which　blew
towards　it：　　And　when　the　Spanish　Sailor　chaunted　some　well…known
air　as　He　past　my　window；　tears　filled　my　eyes　while　I　thought
upon　my　native　land。　　Gonzalvo　too　。　。　。　　My　Husband　。　。　。'。

Elvira　paused。　　Her　voice　faltered；　and　She　concealed　her　face
with　her　handkerchief。　　After　a　short　silence　She　rose　from　the
Sopha；　and　proceeded。

'Excuse　my　quitting　you　for　a　few　moments：　　The　remembrance　of
what　I　have　suffered　has　much　agitated　me；　and　I　need　to　be
alone。　　Till　I　return　peruse　these　lines。　　After　my　Husband's
death　I　found　them　among　his　papers；　Had　I　known　sooner　that　He
entertained　such　sentiments；　Grief　would　have　killed　me。　　He
wrote　these　verses　on　his　voyage　to　Cuba；　when　his　mind　was
clouded　by　sorrow；　and　He　forgot　that　He　had　a　Wife　and　Children。

What　we　are　losing；　ever　seems　to　us　the　most　precious：　　Gonzalvo
was　quitting　Spain　for　ever；　and　therefore　was　Spain　dearer　to
his　eyes　than　all　else　which　the　World　contained。　　Read　them；
Don　Lorenzo；　They　will　give　you　some　idea　of　the　feelings　of　a
banished　Man！'

Elvira　put　a　paper　into　Lorenzo's　hand；　and　retired　from　the
chamber。　　The　Youth　examined　the　contents；　and　found　them　to　be
as　follows。

　THE　EXILE

Farewell；　Oh！　native　Spain！　Farewell　for　ever！　　　　
These　banished　eyes　shall　view　thy　coasts　no　more；　　
A　mournful　presage　tells　my　heart；　that　never　　　　
Gonzalvo's　steps　again　shall　press　thy　shore。

Hushed　are　the　winds；　While　soft　the　Vessel　sailing　　　　
With　gentle　motion　plows　the　unruffled　Main；　　
I　feel　my　bosom's　boasted　courage　failing；　　　　
And　curse　the　waves　which　bear　me　far　from　Spain。

I　see　it　yet！　Beneath　yon　blue　clear　Heaven　　　　
Still　do　the　Spires；　so　well　beloved；　appear；　　
From　yonder　craggy　point　the　gale　of　Even　　　　
Still　wafts　my　native　accents　to　mine　ear：

Propped　on　some　moss…crowned　Rock；　and　gaily　singing；　　　　
There　in　the　Sun　his　nets　the　Fisher　dries；　　
Oft　have　I　heard　the　plaintive　Ballad；　bringing　　　　
Scenes　of　past　joys　before　my　sorrowing　eyes。

　Ah！　Happy　Swain！　　He　waits　the　accustomed　hour；　　　　
When　twilight…gloom　obscures　the　closing　sky；　　
Then　gladly　seeks　his　loved　paternal　bower；　　　　
And　shares　the　feast　his　native　fields　supply：

Friendship　and　Love；　his　Cottage　Guests；　receive　him　　　　
With　honest　welcome　and　with　smile　sincere；　　
No　threatening　woes　of　present　joys　bereave　him；　　　　
No　sigh　his　bosom　owns；　his　cheek　no　tear。

　Ah！　Happy　Swain！　　Such　bliss　to　me　denying；　　　　
Fortune　thy　lot　with　envy　bids　me　view；　　
Me；　who　from　home　and　Spain　an　Exile　flying；　　　　
Bid　all　I　value；　all　I　love；　adieu。

No　more　mine　ear　shall　list　the　well…known　ditty　　　　
Sung　by　some　Mountain…Girl；　who　tends　her　Goats；　　
Some　Village…Swain　imploring　amorous　pity；　　　　
Or　Shepherd　chaunting　wild　his　rustic　notes：

No　more　my　arms　a　Parent's　fond　embraces；　　　　
No　more　my　heart　domestic　calm；　must　know；　　
Far　from　these　joys；　with　sighs　which　Memory　traces；　　　　
To　sultry　skies；　and　distant　climes　I　go。

Where　Indian　Suns　engender　new　diseases；　　　　
Where　snakes　and　tigers　breed；　I　bend　my　way　　
To　brave　the　feverish　thirst　no　art　appeases；　　　　
The　yellow　plague；　and　madding　blaze　of　day：

But　not　to　feel　slow　pangs　consume　my　liver；　　　　
To　die　by　piece…meal　in　the　bloom　of　age；　　
My　boiling　blood　drank　by　insatiate　fever；　　　　
And　brain　delirious　with　the　day…star's　rage；

Can　make　me　know　such　grief；　as　thus　to　sever　　　　
With　many　a　bitter　sigh；　Dear　Land；　from　Thee；　　
To　feel　this　heart　must　doat　on　thee　for　ever；　　　　
And　feel；　that　all　thy　joys　are　torn　from　me！

Ah　me！　　How　oft　will　Fancy's　spells　in　slumber　　　　
Recall　my　native　Country　to　my　mind！　　
How　oft　regret　will　bid　me　sadly　number　　　　
Each　lost　delight　and　dear　Friend　left　behind！

Wild　Murcia's　Vales；　and　loved　romantic　bowers；　　　　
The　River　on　whose　banks　a　Child　I　played；　　
My　Castle's　antient　Halls；　its　frowning　Towers；　　　　
Each　much…regretted　wood；　and　well…known　Glade；

Dreams　of　the　land　where　all　my　wishes　centre；　　　　
Thy　scenes；　which　I　am　doomed　no　more　to　know；　　
Full　oft　shall　Memory　trace；　my　soul's　Tormentor；　　　　
And　tur