THE GIPSY’S SONG.
Come, cross my hand! My art surpasses
All that did ever mortal know:
Come, maidens, come! My magic glasses
Your future husband’s form can show:
For ’Tis to me the power is given
Unclosed the book of fate to see;
To read the fixed resolves of heaven,
And dive into futurity.
I guide the pale moon’s silver waggon;
The winds in magic bonds I hold;
I charm to sleep the crimson dragon,
Who loves to watch o’er buried gold.
Fenced round with spells, unhurt I venture
Their sabbath strange where witches keep;
Fearless the sorcerer’s circle enter,
And woundless tread on snakes asleep.
Lo! here are charms of mighty power!
This makes secure an husband’s truth;
And this, composed at midnight hour,
Will force to love the coldest youth.
If any maid too much has granted,
Her loss this philtre will repair.
This blooms a cheek where red is wanted,
And this will make a brown girl fair;
Then silent hear, while I discover
What I in fortune’s mirror view;
And each, when many a year is over,
Shall own the Gipsy’s sayings true.
“Dear aunt!” said Antonia when the stranger had finished, “is she not mad?”
“Mad? Not she, child; she is only wicked. She is a gipsy, a sort of vagabond, whose sole occupation is to run about the country telling lyes, and pilfering from those who come by their money honestly. Out upon such vermin! If I were king of Spain, every one of them should be burnt alive, who was found in my dominions after the next three weeks.”
These words were pronounced so audibly, that they reached the gipsy’s ears. She immediately pierced through the crowd, and made towards the ladies. She saluted them thrice in the eastern fashion, and then addressed herself to Antonia.
THE GIPSY.
“Lady, gentle lady! know,
I your future fate can show;
Give your hand, and do not fear;
Lady, gentle lady! hear!”
“Dearest aunt!” said Antonia, “indulge me this once! let me have my fortune told me!”
“Nonsense, child! She will tell you nothing but falsehoods.”
“No matter; let me at least hear what she has to say. Do, my dear aunt, oblige me, I beseech you!”
“Well, well! Antonia, since you are so bent upon the thing——— Here, good woman, you shall see the hands of both of us. There is money for you, and now let me hear my fortune.”
As she said this, she drew off her glove, and presented her hand. The gipsy looked at it for a moment, and then made this reply:
THE GIPSY.
“Your fortune? You are now so old,
Good dame, that ’Tis already told:
Yet, for your money, in a trice
I will repay you in advice.
Astonished at your childish vanity,
Your friends all tax you with insanity,
And grieve to see you use your art
To catch some youthful lover’s heart.
Believe me, dame, when all is done,
Your age will still be fifty-one;
And men will rarely take an hint
Of love from two grey eyes that squint.
Take then my counsels; lay aside
Your paint and patches, lust and pride,
And on the poor those sums bestow,
Which now are spent on useless show.
Think on your Maker, not a suitor;
Think on your past faults, not on future;
And think Time’s scythe will quickly mow
The few red hairs, which deck your brow.
The audience rang with laughter during the gipsy’s address; and—“fifty-one,—squinting eyes,—red hair,—paint and patches,”—&c. were bandied from mouth to mouth. Leonella was almost choaked with passion, and loaded her malicious adviser with the bitterest reproaches. The swarthy prophetess for some time listened to her with a contemptuous smile: at length she made her a short answer, and then turned to Antonia.
THE GIPSY.
“Peace, lady! What I said was true.
And now, my lovely maid, to you;
Give me your hand, and let me see
Your future doom, and heaven’s decree.”
In imitation of Leonella, Antonia drew off her glove, and presented her white hand to the gipsy, who, having gazed upon it for some time with a mingled expression of pity and astonishment, pronounced her oracle in the following words:
THE GIPSY.
“Jesus! what a palm is there!
Chaste, and gentle, young and fair,
Perfect mind and form possessing,
You would be some good man’s blessing:
But, alas! this line discovers
That destruction o’er you hovers;
Lustful man and crafty devil
Will combine to work your evil;
And from earth by sorrows driven,
Soon your soul must speed to heaven.
Yet your sufferings to delay,
Well remember what I say.
When you one more virtuous see
Than belongs to man to be,
One, whose self no crimes assailing,
Pities not his neighbour’s failing,
Call the gipsy’s words to mind:
Though he seem so good and kind,
Fair exteriors oft will hide
Hearts that swell with lust and pride.
Lovely maid, with tears I leave you.
Let not my prediction grieve you:
Rather, with submission bending,
Calmly wait distress impending,
And expect eternal bliss
In a better world than this.
Having said this, the gipsy again whirled herself round thrice, and then hastened out of the street with frantic gesture. The crowd followed her; and Elvira’s door being now unembarrassed, Leonella entered the house, out of humour with the gipsy, with her niece, and with the people; in short, with every body but herself and her charming cavalier. The gipsy’s predictions had also considerably affected Antonia; but the impression soon wore off, and in a few hours she had forgotten the adventure, as totally as had it never taken place.
C
HAP
. II.
Fòrse sé tu gustassi una sòl volta,
La millésima parte délle giòje,
Ché gusta un còr amato riamando,