Bluegrass.
Long live and let live the literary duel!
[Lightning and thunder. The scene closes while Whetstone, Bluegrass, and Scythe gather around Fopdoodle, administering to him.
Scene III.—The Glen of Ferns. Midday.
Enter Ideal.
Ideal.
See how great Nature lavishes in this
Hard wrinkle in the globe a subtle and
Refining power, as if it were the open
Volume of the earth with fern-clad cliffs
For lettered pages. Here the glad sun comes
In his most favoring hour, with impress of
A God, in splendor sparkling down the glen.
Ye ferns that spring along these cliffs with light
And airy grace, see but my Violet,
And ye shall take a new and tender charm.
Yon rainbow, in the sportive mist above
The cascade glowing, well a brighter bow
Might grow when it doth catch the arch words of
Bright Violet. Ye berries crimsoning
On yonder bushes, were ye roseate
As are the ripe red lips of Violet,
Wise men a holiday would take, and go
A-berrying. E’en weeds along the cliff
Were like some pretty fault in Violet,—
Sweet contrast growing but for beauty’s foil.
Be free and happy, all created things;
Ye singing birds, your melodies attune;
And ye, blithe squirrels—Peeping Toms of trees—
From out your leafy coverts peep, and I’ll
Not jealous be.
Enter Violet, at top of rustic stairway.
Ay, there she comes, fair Violet!