CHARICLEA. (Sings.)
Let this sunny hour be given,
Venus, unto love and mirth:
Smiles like thine are in the heaven;
Bloom like thine is on the earth;
And the tinkling of the fountains,
And the murmurs of the sea,
And the echoes from the mountains,
Speak of youth, and hope, and thee.
By whate’er of soft expression
Thou hast taught to lovers’ eyes
Faint denial, slow confession,
Glowing cheeks and stifled sighs;
By the pleasure and the pain,
By the follies and the wiles,
Routing fondness, sweet disdain,
Happy tears and mournful smiles;
Come with music floating o’er thee;
Come with violets springing round:
Let the Graces dance before thee,
All their golden zones unbound;
Now in sport their faces hiding,
Now, with slender fingers fair,
From their laughing eyes dividing
The long curls of rose-crowned hair.
ALCIBIADES.
Sweetly sung; but mournfully, Chariclea; for which I would chide you, but that I am sad myself. More wine there. I wish to all the gods that I had fairly sailed from Athens.
CHARICLEA.
And from me, Alcibiades?
ALCIBIADES.
Yes, from you, dear lady. The days which immediately precede separation are the most melancholy of our lives.