Complete Poetical Works






DON DIEGO OF THE SOUTH

     (REFECTORY, MISSION SAN GABRIEL, 1869)

     Good!—said the Padre,—believe me still,
     "Don Giovanni," or what you will,
     The type's eternal!  We knew him here
     As Don Diego del Sud.  I fear
     The story's no new one!  Will you hear?

     One of those spirits you can't tell why
     God has permitted.  Therein I
     Have the advantage, for I hold
     That wolves are sent to the purest fold,
     And we'd save the wolf if we'd get the lamb.
     You're no believer?  Good!  I am.

     Well, for some purpose, I grant you dim,
     The Don loved women, and they loved him.
     Each thought herself his LAST love!  Worst,
     Many believed that they were his FIRST!
     And, such are these creatures since the Fall,
     The very doubt had a charm for all!

     You laugh!  You are young, but I—indeed
     I have no patience...  To proceed:—
     You saw, as you passed through the upper town,
     The Eucinal where the road goes down
     To San Felipe!  There one morn
     They found Diego,—his mantle torn,
     And as many holes through his doublet's band
     As there were wronged husbands—you understand!

     "Dying," so said the gossips.  "Dead"
     Was what the friars who found him said.
     May be.  Quien sabe?  Who else should know?
     It was a hundred years ago.
     There was a funeral.  Small indeed—
     Private.  What would you?  To proceed:—

     Scarcely the year had flown.  One night
     The Commandante awoke in fright,
     Hearing below his casement's bar
     The well-known twang of the Don's guitar;
     And rushed to the window, just to see
     His wife a-swoon on the balcony.

     One week later, Don Juan Ramirez
     Found his own daughter, the Dona Inez,
     Pale as a ghost, leaning out to hear
     The song of that phantom cavalier.
     Even Alcalde Pedro Blas
     Saw, it was said, through his niece's glass,
     The shade of Diego twice repass.

     What these gentlemen each confessed
     Heaven and the Church only knows.  At best
     The case was a bad one.  How to deal
     With Sin as a Ghost, they couldn't but feel
     Was an awful thing.  Till a certain Fray
     Humbly offered to show the way.

     And the way was this.  Did I say before
     That the Fray was a stranger?  No, Senor?
     Strange! very strange!  I should have said
     That the very week that the Don lay dead
     He came among us.  Bread he broke
     Silent, nor ever to one he spoke.
     So he had vowed it!  Below his brows
     His face was hidden.  There are such vows!

     Strange! are they not?  You do not use
     Snuff?  A bad habit!

                           Well, the views
     Of the Fray were these: that the penance done
     By the caballeros was right; but one
     Was due from the CAUSE, and that, in brief,
     Was Dona Dolores Gomez, chief,
     And Inez, Sanchicha, Concepcion,
     And Carmen,—well, half the girls in town
     On his tablets the Friar had written down.

     These were to come on a certain day
     And ask at the hands of the pious Fray
     For absolution.  That done, small fear
     But the shade of Diego would disappear.

     They came; each knelt in her turn and place
     To the pious Fray with his hidden face
     And voiceless lips, and each again
     Took back her soul freed from spot or stain,
     Till the Dona Inez, with eyes downcast
     And a tear on their fringes, knelt her last.

     And then—perhaps that her voice was low
     From fear or from shame—the monks said so—
     But the Fray leaned forward, when, presto! all
     Were thrilled by a scream, and saw her fall
     Fainting beside the confessional.

     And so was the ghost of Diego laid
     As the Fray had said.  Never more his shade
     Was seen at San Gabriel's Mission.  Eh!
     The girl interests you?  I dare say!
     "Nothing," said she, when they brought her to—
     "Only a faintness!"  They spoke more true
     Who said 'twas a stubborn soul. But then—
     Women are women, and men are men!

     So, to return.  As I said before,
     Having got the wolf, by the same high law
     We saved the lamb in the wolf's own jaw,
     And that's my moral.  The tale, I fear,
     But poorly told.  Yet it strikes me here
     Is stuff for a moral.  What's your view?
     You smile, Don Pancho.  Ah! that's like you!

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