Refuse not, Reader, the brief mysterie-play,
Which our poor Gipsy-trio here enacts;
For thoughtful spirits love such legend lay,
Oft true to feeling, false albeit to facts.
Nay, judging reason yet more true shall hold
Such fabling tale, to gentle heart when true,
Than stricter fact, with dogma harsh and cold,
Oft falsified; to harden me or you.

Faith, like yon liberal sun's impartial power,
Where'er her genial ray, like his, shall strike,
Wakes forth from every soil its fitting flower;
If not alike each flower—all flowers—alike.
And tho' erewhile she cleave empyreal air,
Not less 'mid such as lowly valleys give
She loves to float and pause; and every where,
Or high or low, in sympathies can live.
Then, thoughtful spirit! hold thou not in scorn
Her votive gift of very humblest weed.
That humblest weed hath comeliness, where born;
Tis still the heart which consecrates the creed.
Nor take our speech in mockery or despite,
Tho' strange it be, or ruder than thine own.
Where equal justice rules, with equal right
Each tribe—each tongue—hath access to the throne.

FIRST GIPSY. Gipsies Three, Gipsies Three;
Roamers wide o'er field and fell;
Farers free, where'er we be;
Such are we, such are we;
Fortunes also we can tell.
Pretty child! so sweet and mild,
Would you choose your lot to know,

Weal or woe—weal or woe—
Cross our hands, for we can show.
Janan! why a-loitering stand?
Come and read the Infant's hand.

SECOND GIPSY. Thou art, thou art, as I can see,
The equal of the Deity,
His well-belovëd progeny,
And born to be adored.
Yea—I can see that Thou art He,
Co-partner of the Deity;
Fore-born for me, fore-born for me,
Ere chaos felt the Word.
For Love it was that gave thee birth;
Boundless Love for All on earth.
With Virgin-Mother—Father—none.
This—all this—in thy palm is shown.

FIRST GIPSY. Yet, still a secret lags behind,
Which Janan hath not cared to tell.
Yet still a secret lags behind,
Which soon shall work its marvel well.
Messiah dear! put here—put here—
A silver piece, to make us cheer;
Then—Janan tells it, Darling Dear!

SECOND GIPSY. Yet, 'mid this bliss, yet mid this bliss,
Something of very hard there is,
For our behoof, to do.
Yea—yea—I wis, 'mid all this bliss,
Something of very hard there is,
To work our safety through.
That Cross—Salvation's Cross—I see;
And if of thy sad martyrie
My tongue the cause may dare to touch,
It is—that Thou hast loved too much.

FIRST GIPSY. But still at the end of the vital line
A secret untold remains to divine.
Give again, sweet Babe! thy palm to spell,
And a charming secret we can tell.
But, first, the tester we must hold;
Without it, nothing can be told.

SECOND GIPSY. Thou art God and Mortal too;
And, as such, shalt live—not much—
On this earth, our human birth.
Thou art God and Mortal too;

And, being so, full soon shalt go
From thy sojourn here below.
Nought a nature, thus divine,
From Eternity can sever;
Endless life a gift of thine,
And thine essence lives for ever.

FIRST GIPSY. But dost thou not wish, as fit it is,
We should speak a word to thy mother dear;
And in our homely gipsy guise
Make our compliment to her?
Already, fair Lady, we understand
That a mystery lurks in that beautiful hand.
Do thou, Janan, thou,
Who so well knowest how,
Say a somewhat to pleasure the lady's ear.

SECOND GIPSY. Lady, thou art of royal blood;
Thy house in glory long hath stood;
The world hath loftier—none.
Thou art, in sooth, of royal blood,
Thy house in glory long hath stood;
All this to me is known.
Thy Lord—thy Son! Thy God—his Father!
What would blessed woman rather?
Sainted Daughter of thy Lord!
Happy Mother of thy God!

FIRST GIPSY. But thou, old Man! who by the manger,
Quietly dost take thy stand,
Let us see, respected stranger,
Let us see and read thy hand.
And think'st thou, then, that, plotting sly,
We shall steal yon ass that is feeding by?
Old Man! Old Man! far better pelf
Would be the blessed babe himself.
But first, kind Master! hand your groat,
And let us quench a thirsty throat.

SECOND GIPSY. I see by that hand, I see full sure,
That thou art great and just and pure.
By that hand dost thou stand full clearly proved
Great and pure and well-beloved.
Husband! wisely mastering sense
With a saint-like abstinence,
Thou to Providence didst bow;
And art thou not rewarded now?

FIRST GIPSY. But now, Sweet Babe! full well we wot
That thou art born with little store;
Thy lot—a naked—lowly lot;
Therefore—of pence we talk no more.
And didst thou fear, my darling Dear!
To see the scarecrow gipsy near?
Yet wherefore start? for God thou art!—
Then hear our prayer—before we part.

CHORUS OF THE THREE GIPSIES. If with too much liberty,
We have dared thine ear importune;
If with too much liberty,
We have dared to read thy fortune;
Humbly We pray to Thee,
Build thou for us a destiny;
And be it one, Immortal Son
Blessing us Eternally.