Shall we sit
And watch these children?
Phyllis, bid them play,
And let them heed us no more than the trees
That girdle this green lawn with whispering beauty.
[The children play and sing at their games, till at a
convenient moment the LADY FLORA holds up her hand.]
FLORA. Now, Amaryllis, stay the rushing stream,
The meadows for this time have drunk enough.
[To LUCIA.] And you, what think you, lady, of these maids?
Has their sweet foolish singing moved your heart
To choose among them?
LUCIA. I have heard them gladly,
And if I could, would turn them all to elves,
That if they cannot live with me, at least
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I might look down when our great galleon sails
Close over earth, and see them always here
Dancing upon the moonlit shores of night.
But how to choose!—and though they are young and fair
Their every grace foretells the fatal change,
The swift short bloom of girlhood, like a flower
Passing away, for ever passing away.
Have you not one with petals tenderer yet,
More deeply folded, further from the hour
When the bud dies into the mortal rose?
FLORA [pointing.] There is my youngest blossom and my fairest,
But my most wilful too—you'll pluck her not
Without some aid of magic.
LUCIA. Time has been
When I have known even your forest trees
Sway to a song of moonland. I will try it.
[She sings and dances a witching measure.]
SONG
(To an air by HENRY LAWES, published in 1652)