Realist. To me, of all life's woes and plagues,
Substance is most provoking,
For the first time I feel my legs
Beneath me almost rocking.
Supernaturalist. I'm overjoyed at being here,
And even among these rude ones;
For if bad spirits are, 'tis clear,
There also must be good ones.
Skeptic. Where'er they spy the flame they roam,
And think rich stores to rifle,
Here such as I are quite at home,
For Zweifel rhymes with Teufel.[45]
Leader of the music. Grass-hid cricket, frogs in trees,
You cursed dilettanti!
Fly-snouts and gnats'-noses, peace!
Musicians you, right jaunty!
The Clever ones. Sans-souci we call this band
Of merry ones that skip it;
Unable on our feet to stand,
Upon our heads we trip it.
The Bunglers. Time was, we caught our tit-bits, too,
God help us now! that's done with!
We've danced our leathers entirely through,
And have only bare soles to run with.
Jack-o'lanterns. From the dirty bog we come,
Whence we've just arisen:
Soon in the dance here, quite at home,
As gay young sparks we'll glisten.
Shooting star. Trailing from the sky I shot,
Not a star there missed me:
Crooked up in this grassy spot,
Who to my legs will assist me?
The solid men. Room there! room there! clear the ground!
Grass-blades well may fall so;
Spirits are we, but 'tis found
They have plump limbs also.
Puck. Heavy men! do not, I say,
Like elephants' calves go stumping:
Let the plumpest one to-day
Be Puck, the ever-jumping.