"The poet has treated me like a beggar," said Preciosa; "but it is certainly a greater marvel for one of his trade to give a crown than for one of mine to receive it. If his romances come to me with this addition, he may transscribe the whole _Romancero General_ and send me every piece in it one by one. I will weigh their merit; and if I find there is good matter in them, I will not reject them. Read the paper aloud, señor, that we may see if the poet is as wise as he is liberal." The cavalier accordingly read as follows:-- Sweet gipsy girl, whom envy's self Must own of all fair maids the fairest, Ah! well befits thy stony heart The name thou, Preciosa,[66] bearest. If as in beauty, so in pride And cruelty thou grow to sight, Woe worth the land, woe worth the age Which brought thy fatal charms to light. A basilisk in thee we see, Which fascinates our gaze and kills. No empire mild is thine, but one That tyrannises o'er our wills. How grew such charms 'mid gipsy tribes, From roughest blasts without a shield? How such a perfect chrysolite Could humble Manzanares yield? River, for this thou shalt be famed, Like Tagus with its golden show, And more for Preciosa prized Than Ganges with its lavish flow. In telling fortunes who can say What dupes to ruin thou beguilest? Good luck thou speak'st with smiling lips. But luckless they on whom thou smilest! Tis said they're witches every one, The women of the gipsy race; And all men may too plainly see That thou hast witchcraft in thy face. A thousand different modes are thine To turn the brain; for rest or move, Speak, sing, be mute, approach, retire, Thou kindlest still the fire of love. The freest hearts bend to thy sway, And lose the pride of liberty; Bear witness mine, thy captive thrall, Which would not, if it could, be free. These lines, thou precious gem of love, Whose praise all power of verse transcend, He who for thee will live or die, Thy poor and humble lover sends. [66] Piedra preciosa, precious stone. "The poem ends with 'poor' in the last line," said Preciosa; "and that is a bad sign. Lovers should never begin by saying that they are poor, for poverty, it strikes me, is a great enemy to love." "Who teaches you these things, girl?" said one of the cavaliers.