On the wall of crumbling bulwark
In a thoughtful meditation,
Satanella now is sitting
With her black hair loosely flying.
Round her shoulders merged the tresses
In a sea of dark-hued billows
Blending with the yellow grasses,
With the leaves of dark spread ivy.
Satanella thus was resting:
White bare limbs were freely dangling
O'er the wall among acacia's
Sweetly scented snow-white flowers.
Shaking with her every movement
Dewy pearls off the blossoms.
Long, long while she thus was sitting.
What she thought of, hard to fathom,
But a lengthy meditation
Was for her no pleasant duty.
Soon she shook her flowing tresses,
Upturned palms received her forehead,
And with smile upon her features
She gazed at the bluish mountains.
Then her gaze passed from the mountains
To the stream that shone in distance,
Like a snake in sunshine sleeping.
Then she glanced upon the forests
Motionlessly far off, resting
'neath a veil of golden vapor.
Then she looked upon the flowers
Over which her feet had frolicked,
Thence upon the spreading mosses,
Scabious, in many colors
Golden buzzing bees upon it,
And the struggling ants beneath it.
Suddenly, her feet aswaying
From among the snow white flowers
Waked a butterfly, soft velvet
Wings of black with white hemmed edges.
He flew up and fluttered onward,
Sat upon a cliff's protrusion,
Then flew back, 'round Satanella,
Darted like a flash of sorrow,
Like a thought whose melancholy
Suddenly and unsuspecting
Caught her in its spreading meshes.
And perchance this darting creature,
This black butterfly of mourning,
Took upon its wings of velvet
All of Satanella's sadness.
As he vanished in the blue heights
Satanella laughed out loudly
With a rippling, tumbling laughter
That from mount to mountain travelled,
Flew among the greyish ruins,
Then returned on wings of echo.
Thus at night across the snow drifts
Falls the bells' metallic tinkle,
Sound the sleigh-bells and the laughter.
Soon but ceased this jolly outburst
Passed into a song of sadness
From whose waves of melancholy
It shone forth like flash of moonlight,
Like a shiny golden fish-scale.
Now it vanished . . . perhaps drowning
In that sea of sweet emotions
That encircles hearts of lovers
With a sweetly-mellow current—
Then it burst anew however,
Passed through many variations,
Then rejoiced, the daring dreamer
Having found a bough with flowers
Where to hang its wings of music,
Now had found a sturdy tower
Where to hang its bells of metal.
What approaches in the distance?
With a hand her forehead shading,
Satanella holds her laughter
And a while with solemn features
She examines the procession
From the town as it approaches
Winding like a snake through meadows.
To this child of boundless deserts
Who but knew the clear-toned cymbal,
Songs of winds, and but the people
That she grew with from her childhood,
Laughable to her this picture,
These old monks with long black garments,
Monks, whose large white shining bald-pates
Glistened bright beneath the sunshine;
And the clergy in chasubles
Holding golden incense burners
From which rose thick, smoky columns;
But more laughable than all these
Seems the bishop with the mitre,
Being fanned with ostrich feathers
While he blesses with his monstrance.
As if stunned, a while she stood there
While her restless gaze was roving;
Then in new-born streams of laughter
Seemed to melt her speechless wonder.
Finally, the long procession
Came up to the greyish ruins
And stopped at the foot of mountain
Where Madonna's Holy picture
Hangs among the briar roses.
In two streams the throng divided
To let pass, right through their center
Johannites with monks and clergy.
Through this trebly made formation
Passed the bishop to the picture,
To their knees sank thronging people,
Ceased all whisp'ring . . . long drawn quiet.
Up above the wall of mountain
In the shade of white acacia,
Satanella gazed and wondered
What went on there far beneath her.
In the meanwhile she selected
From her lap, dates long and slender
Feasted on them, and assembled
All their pits and stones about her.
Suddenly her roaming vision
'twixt the Johannites detected
Roderigo in his dark cloak,
Standing there with shaded forehead
As a cloud on skies in summer.
In a twinkle that she saw him,
One date-pit she threw upon him,
And as he, in sheer amazement
Looked up at the tow'ring ruins
She again released the current
Of her carefree, joyous laughter.
Up at her gazed wond'ring people.
But this only brought rejoicing
To the laughing Satanella
And she threw a rain of date-pits
Down upon the solemn bishop
Who was blessing with his monstrance
People kneeling all about him.
New commotion, new disturbance;
Varied voices and her laughter
Blend together in a mixture.
"Go and seize the witch of witches,"
Johannites' grand-master shouted.
"Go and seize the witch of witches
Who just dared to bring upon us
With her blasphemy and laughter
Heaven's most revengeful anger.
Go and seize her, I command you."
As he finished, more disturbance
And a pack of angry soldiers
Clambered up the sloping mountains
There to capture Satanella.
But she with a new-born laughter
Flitted sidewise to evade them,
Like the bird in ancient fable
Tempted on the ancient shepherd
With his shining golden feathers.
Higher, higher, she kept climbing
From one mountain to another
From one wall she scaled another,
With an ever rising laughter,
Like a butterfly escaping
When a meddling boy he teases.
With her constant flight grew angered
More and more the pack of soldiers,
Till at last they overtook her
As a doe with chase exhausted.
But refusing to be captured
She broke forth from her pursuers
And ran down the sloping hillside
Till she reached the wall of ruins,
From where, having lost the pathway
With a daring jump she landed
At the bishop's feet beneath her.
Frightened by her wild appearance
Bishop almost dropped the monstrance
And in following confusion
Almost floored the fanning servants.
Wonder, shouting, storm 'twixt people.
"Burn at stake the witch of witches
Who has blasphemed."
—"Chains about her."
Thus commands the guards about him,
Aged Johannite grand-master,
But then, like an angered lion,
From the throng springs Roderigo,
Draws his sword and shouts like thunder;
"At the hell's own gates shall find self
Whosoever dares to trifle
With one hair upon this maiden.
Step no further! Back you rabble!—
As for you, my Satanella,
Go, return among your ruins;
Leave the fools to their own folly."
Thus he spoke, and raised the maiden
Who shook like a round-leaved willow.
Kissed her on the dusky forehead,
Stroked her cheek as smooth as velvet.
And then, with a stride determined
Would return among his comrades,
When the order's oldest member
Blocked his way, and thus addressed him,
In a solemn voice that quivered;
"Roderigo Gonvazales,
To my hands return your sabre,
Tainted in your holy service.
To obey you failed, and broke thus
Our order's highest promise.
With defiance in your spirit
Drew your sword against the prelate
And with blasphemy dishonored
The white cross upon your mantle.
Give up sword, the court shall judge you!
Give up sword, my final order!"
"I'll not give it, never, never!"
Roderigo thus defies him
Wildly with his sabre striking.
But alas, in one brief moment
On all sides he is surrounded
And deprived of shield and sabre.
At the same time, Satanella
Fettered is without resistance.
But new terror grips the people,
Listen to their dreadful shouting:
"Woe to us, the plague's upon us."
Here lamenting, yonder cursing,
Sudden flight and crowding masses
And one shout, from out this turmoil,
Rising like a flash of lightning;
"Plague's upon us! Plague's upon us!"
In a ne'er beheld disorder
All to city gates are rushing,
All of them round Satanella
Crowding, massing, yelling, shouting,
"Burn at stake the witch of witches
Who, with blasphemy, attracted
Pestilence within our city."
Barely could defend the soldiers
With their sabres, shields and lances
Satanella, who between them
Proudly, spitefully is walking,
Round her lips a constant laughter,
And repeating as she passes
One refrain of song eternal
Vibrating throughout her being,
While its echo keeps returning
In her heart with voice unweakened,
"Roderigo! Roderigo!"