Unfelt is toil, and summer one green daze,
Till that the king be crowned, and France be free!
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE.
I.
The dusky star-set blue of Southern night;
Music and song approaching and receding;
Sweet sudden laughter-showers of masquers leading
Across the moon-white square a merry flight,
With breeze-blown torch and tossing cresset bright;