And the Prophet great!
[They make off, leaving the booty behind them. The horsemen gradually disappear in the distance.
Peer Gynt.
[Enters, cutting a reed whistle.]
What a delectable morning-tide!—
The dung-beetle’s rolling his ball in the dust;
The snail creeps out of his dwelling-house.
The morning; ay, it has gold in its mouth.—
It’s a wonderful power, when you think of it,
That Nature has given to the light of day.