I’m Peer—well, the man I am.
Hei, away now with the prophet;
Me, myself, you have me here!
[Seats himself under a tree, and draws her to him.
Come, Anitra, we will rest us
Underneath the palm’s green fan-shade!
I’ll lie whispering, you’ll lie smiling;
Afterwards our rôles exchange we;
Then shall your lips, fresh and balmy,
To my smiling, passion whisper!