With varied visions blessing,
Dream spirits vigils keep;
Dream spirits vigils keep;
Their vigils keep, their vigils keep.
(As the chorus closes, enter R., Drowsa and Oblivia; L., Somna and Sootha; then R., Queen Mab, who stands C.)
Q. Mab. Spirits of Dreamland, once again we meet,
Our round of nightly revel to repeat.
O'er earth, when locked in sleep's warm, close embrace,
Since time began, the genius of our race
Has had the power fearlessly to sway
The visionary sceptre all obey.
The mighty monarch, who, with tyrant frown,
Upholds the burden of his weighty crown;
The fierce-browed warrior who relentless slays,
And, bathed in blood, his vows to Moloch pays;
Haughty and lowly, powerful and weak,—
Under mysterious spells our guidance seek.
Sweet sister spirits, Dreamland opens wide;
Yet justice guards it well on every side.
Over the pure we rosy visions throw:
Around the base a sea of troubles flow.
Ere forth you glide to ply your happy arts,
Your queen would learn the secrets of your hearts;
Who hie to sport, with mischievous intent,
And who on graver ministries are bent. Sootha. I've an old miser under watchful care,
With sordid soul, of generous impulse bare;
Who nightly feasts, with avaricious eyes,
Where treasured gold in rare profusion lies;
Who revels o'er his fast-increasing store,
Chuckles with glee, yet wistful sighs for more;
Starvation's image, in a den so bare,
It seems a fit abode for dark despair.
Into his sleep I glide, disturb his rest,
Rattle his treasure, till, with fear possessed,
As frightful visions thick and thicker press,
He trembling wakes, his idol to caress. Oblivia. Fair queen, a toiling student I enchain,
And with my art refresh his weary brain:
Up wisdom's heights I lead him by the hand,
And show him visions of the promised land;
Fair fields of learning spread before his gaze,
For him the realm of science set ablaze,
Ope Fame's grand temple, Honor's scroll unroll,
And tell the triumphs of the trusting soul,
Till hope re-animates the wasting fire
With earnest zeal and conquering desire. Somna. I guard a trusting maiden, young and fair,
Whom Love has tangled in his silken snare;
Spread rosy dreams amid her sleeping hours,
And lead her captive through a land of flowers;
Adorn her hero with true manly pride,
And of the future ope the portal wide,
While smiles of pleasure o'er her sweet face creep,
And blissful words betray her secret deep.
With rare delight her day-dreams I repeat,
And make her young life's round of love complete. Drowsa. Oh, I've a task, fair queen, will love secure.
Last night I visited with visions pure
A weary mother, who, for many a day,
Watched o'er the cradle where her dear babe lay
Wasting with fever, till the unseen Hand
Took it in kindness to a better land.
Long has she mourned its loss, with wakeful eyes,
Fast-falling tears, low, sad, and bitter cries.
Last night she slept; and then, in vision's charms,
I crept, and laid her babe within her arms.
Content she rested, with a smile so sweet,
I go to-night this comfort to repeat. Q. Mab. Your zeal, industrious spirits, we applaud:
Your chosen missions meet with full accord;
Yet for this night we have a task so grand,
Your queen would all your energies command. Somna. We wait your pleasure, Oblivia. All our arts employ; Drowsa. Set us what tasks you will, Sootha. We'll serve with joy. Q. Mab. Thanks, sisters! To our confidence draw near,
And list our secret with attentive ear.
Freedom's fair goddess, Gloria, in doubt,
Her fair Republic, restless roams about,
Seeking a talisman to life prolong,
And make her youthful charge wax brave and strong.
Close at her side Rubina, crafty maid,
Whose fire-lit eyes gloat over war's dread trade,
Plies her bold speech, unchecked by fear of frown,
Counselling deeds of conquest and renown;
While calm Serena, long to Peace allied,
Whose gentle influence stretches far and wide,
Recounts the glories of a land at rest,
With sterling Industry's rich harvests blest.
Wavering betwixt the gentle and the bold,
By turns rebellious, and by turns controlled,
Poor Gloria wanders long, in dire distress
Which counsellor to choose her realm to bless.
Old custom gives to us prophetic power
To guide by vision in the trying hour.
And so to-night, o'er Gloria's doubting heart,
Fair sister spirits, we will ply our art,
Lure her to Dreamland, and in phantom light
Illume her path, and guide her to the right.
Stand close! she comes! the light winds bear along
The martial burden of her triumph song.
[Retire, and form behind bank.
Chorus; air, "Love of Country."
Blest is the land where Freedom rears,
'Neath heaven's blue, arching dome,