Whose fetters are the net invisible
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hat holds all life together. Royal deedsMay make long destinies for multitudes,And you are called to do them. You belongNot to the petty round of circumstanceThat makes a woman’s lot, but to your tribe,Who trust in me and in my blood with trustThat men call blind; but it is only blind As unyeaned reason is, that growing stirsWithin the womb of superstition. FEDALMA.No!I belong to him who loves me — whom I love —Who chose me— whom I chose —to whom I pledgedA woman’s truth. And that is nature too,Issuing a fresher law than laws of birth. ZARCA.Well, then, unmake yourself from a Zincala, —Unmake yourself from being child of mine !Take holy water, cross your dark skin white ;Round your proud eyes to foolish kitten looks ;Walk mincingly, and smirk, and twitch your robe: THE SPANISH GYPSY. 133 Unmake yourself, — doff all the eagle plumesAnd be a parrot, chained to a ring that slipsUpon a Spaniard’s thumb, at will of his That you should prattle o’er his words again !Get a small heart that flutters at the smilesOf that plump penitent and greedy saintWho breaks all treaties in the name of God,Saves souls by confiscation, sends to heavenThe altar-fumes of burning heretics, And chaffers with the Levite for the gold;Holds Gypsies beasts unfit for sacrifice, So sweeps them out lke worms alive or dead.Go, trail your gold and velvet in her presence ! —Conscious Zincala, smile at your rare luck,While half your brethren.... FEDALMA.I am not so vile!It is not to such mockeries that I cling,Not to the flaring tow of gala-lights :It is to him — my love — the face of day.
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