Gastibelza

( " Gastibelza, l'homme a la carabine. " )

Gastibelza, the man with the carabine,
Sung in this wise:
" Hath one of you here known Dona Sabine
With the gentle eyes?
Ay, dance and sing! For the night draws nigh
O'er hill and lea.
— The wind that wails o'er yon mountain high
Will madden me.

" Hath one of you here known Dona Sabine,
To me so dear?
Her mother, the old, old Maugrabine,
Erst made one fear,
For each night from the haunted cavern she'd cry
With an owlet's glee.
— The wind that wails o'er yon mountain high
Will madden me!

" Ay, dance ye and sing! The hour's delight
One needs must use.
How young she was, and those eyes how bright,
Which made one muse. —
To this old man whom a child leads by,
A coin cast ye!
— The wind that wails o'er yon mountain high
Will madden me!

" In sooth the queen for envy had wept,
Had she seen her, alack!
As o'er Toledo's bridge she light-tript
In a corset black.
A chaplet of beads that charmed one's eye,
From her neck hung free.
— The wind that wails o'er yon mountain high
Will madden me!

" The King, bedazed with her loveliness,
Bespake one there:
" For one only smile, for one only kiss,
One tress of her hair,
I would give my Spain and gold realms that lie
O'er yonder sea!"
— The wind that wails o'er yon mountain high
Will madden me!

" I know not well if I loved this sweet,
But well I know,
If but one glance of her soul might greet
My soul, I would go
On the galleys to toil, on the galleys to die,
Right cheerfully.
— The wind that wails o'er yon mountain high
Will madden me!

" One summer morn when all heaven was bright,
All earth was gay,
To the stream with her sister for dear delight,
This sweet must stray.
The foot of her comrade I there did spy,
And saw her knee.
— The wind that wails o'er yon mountain high
Will madden me!

" When thus of me, a poor shepherd, was seen
This glorious May,
Methought, 'tis Cleopatra the queen
Who once, they say,
Won Caesar, great Emperor of Germany,
Her slave to be.
— The wind that wails o'er yon mountain high
Will madden me!

" Dance ye and sing — lo, the night doth fall!
Sabine, one while
Her dovelike beauty, her soul, her all,
Her angel-smile,
For a ring of gold to the Count hath sold —
Saldane is he.
— The wind that wails o'er yon mountain high
Will madden me!

" On this bench for a moment suffer me rest, —
Full-weary each limb.
With this Count then fled this loveliest —
Alas! with him!
By the road that leads ... but I know not, I,
Where then fled she.
— The wind that wails o'er yon mountain high
Will madden me!

" I saw her pass at the death of day,
And all was night.
And now I wander and weary alway,
In pain's despite.
My soul's on quest; my dagger's put by,
Ne'er-used to be.
— The wind that wails o'er yon mountain high
Has maddened me! "
Translation: 
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Author of original: 
Victor Hugo
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