Slumbers the page who so long must wait.
Then crows the cock, the hour is late.”
At this note of warning the Page appeals to his master to fly, for the sunlight will bring him pain and harm. The dallying King replies, “Hark! how the Nightingale yet sings.” A small chorus intervenes with the warning, “Love is so fleeting, Night is so fair.” The Queen appeals to him, “What seest thou, O King?” To which Trojan replies with agitation, “The ruddy Morning, it is my Death.” Again comes the Page’s warning. The King springs up in alarm and hastens to his steed. In a choral presto movement the ride back is described. The King conceals himself in a dark thicket, hoping to escape, but the night has vanished and the day has begun. Its beams penetrate his refuge, and with a last despairing cry (“Accursed Light, I feel thee now”) he expires. A short choral passage, with harp accompaniment, brings this very dramatic and fanciful composition to a close:—
“And from his horse the king now falls,
He was but king of the night;
The sunlight sparkles, the sunlight shines,
But death comes with morning light.”
