The Spanish Gypsy

by George Eliot

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1869 edition. Excerpt: ... BOOK II. Silva was marching homeward while the moon Still shed mild brightness like the far-off hope Of those pale virgin lives that wait and pray. The stars thin-scattered made the heavens large, Bending in slow procession; in the east Emergent from the dark waves of the hills, Seeming a little ... Read More

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1869 edition. Excerpt: ... BOOK II. Silva was marching homeward while the moon Still shed mild brightness like the far-off hope Of those pale virgin lives that wait and pray. The stars thin-scattered made the heavens large, Bending in slow procession; in the east Emergent from the dark waves of the hills, Seeming a little sister of the moon, Glowed Venus all unquenched. Silva, in haste, Exultant and yet anxious, urged his troop To quick and quicker march: he had delight In forward stretching shadows, in the gleams That travelled on the armour of the van, And in the many-hoofed sound: in all that told Of hurrying movement to o'ertake his thought Already in Bedmar, close to Fedalma, Leading her forth a wedded bride, fast vowed, Defying Father Isidor. His glance Took in with much content the priest who rode Firm in his saddle, stalwart and broad-backed, Crisp-curled, and comfortably secular, Right in the front of him. But by degrees Stealthily faint, disturbing with slow loss That showed not yet full promise of a gain, The light was changing, and the watch intense Of moon and stars seemed weary, shivering: The sharp white brightness passed from off the rocks Carrying the shadows: beauteous Night lay dead Under the pall of twilight, and the love-star Sickened and shrank. The troop was winding now Upward to where a pass between the peaks Seemed like an opened gate--to Silva seemed An outer-gate of heaven, for through that pass They entered his own valley, near Bedmdr. Sudden within the pass a horseman rose, One instant dark upon the banner pale Of rock-cut sky, the next in motion swift With hat and plume high shaken--ominous. Silva had dreamed his future, and the dream Held not this messenger. A minute more-- It was his friend Don Alvar whom he saw Reining his horse... Read Less