Enter Cinthio and Faustine.
Bruno. More noctambulators.
Felice. This is the prince's shepherd, and his sweetheart: if they
observe Torello, they may help our plot.
Cinthio. Bright-pinioned night now slacks her onward flight
And hovers towards its mid stage, to alight,
Furling her wings, one instant on the earth,
Ere emptying heaven for Aurora's birth,
That gladdens every morn. Here will we rest
Till night has sped a little further west.
O that we might recline between her wings,
And sail for aye her heavenly voyagings!
Faustine. I would we might, but we must navigate
A vessel and an ocean less elate.
How far are we from thy Sebastian's boat?
Cinthio. An hour will take us where it lies afloat.
Faustine. Is this the forest's most secreted spot?
Cinthio. Yes; none save shepherds visit it. Do not
Fear anything; and we will reach the shore
By pathways that are their peculiar lore.
Enter Rupert and Eulalie.
The prince and his beloved!
[Cinthio and Faustine conceal themselves.
Rupert. Sit, Eulalie; this tree-trunk bids us rest.
Hush! hark! the nightingale, the lover's bird,
The throbbing pulse of night, panting its joy.
About this season he expects his mate,
And spends all day and night in rapturous toil
Upon a bridal-song to greet her with.
I think those twinkling midnight birds up there,
The stars, that seem to nestle in the leaves,
Utter such dulcet strains could we but hear.—
Now, tell me softly; did'st thou dream to-night?
Eulalie. Thou should'st have first inquired if I did sleep.
Whether I slept or not, I dreamt a dream,
The most entrancing and most lovable.
Rupert. Did'st thou indeed! What was it all about?
Eulalie. I laid me on my bed, and couched the rose
That thou had'st given me in my bosom. Then
Its odour, packed with semblances of bliss,
Far-off delights, remembrances of songs,
And nameless sweets, all woven in a charm
Of strange awakening scent alone bestows,
Grew brightly visible; and in that halo
Sleep realised a shining rainbow crowd
Of gay unearthly beings, who, to notes
That never lark or nightingale imagined,
Tripped in the mazes of a wildering dance—
A poem in mute show.—Hark! some one comes.
[Rupert and Eulalie retire.
Re-enter Celio and Sylvia. They seat themselves on the tree vacated by
Rupert and Eulalie.
Torello. Sweet voices! Methought I heard Eulalie's. O, come my love!
Shemhamphorash.
Sylvia. Had any one save thee told me this tale
Discredit would have paid his waste of breath.
So dark that grove is, and its air so full
Of night's fantasticism, thy whispers low
May have been rounded to a meaning big
With sense that had no birth in thy intendment.
Did'st thou not tell me of a peopled star?
If there be such a jewel in the heavens,
Point out its light.
Celio. That magnate brilliant,
Gleaming, opalesque, red, white, and blue,
Quivering and shuddering in its loveliness,
That star's inhabited.
Sylvia. It is, indeed,
A bright, first-water sphere. And in it dwell
Oberon and Titania, and their elves.
Did'st thou say that?
Celio. I said it, and it's true.
Sylvia. King Oberon, a many years ago,
Divining that this grass-green, sea-green earth,
This emerald that sets off the golden sun,
Should be by mankind sadly under-priced;
That this fair hanging garden, swung for elves
And men to revel in, this glorious stage
In heaven's theatre, so gallantly
Hung out and decked for elves and men to grace,
This temple, wherein all might minister,
Should be o'er-rioted, abused, profaned;
That this globe, frescoed round by Nature's art,
Should lose its beauty in the sight of men—
Men's eyes being jaundiced by a golden lust
To prize much more the hills' bright excrement,
Than their elate and sun-gilt brows of strength;
That men, like children wearied of a toy,
Would spoil its loveliness, in pieces rending
To put it to some use, or ravish out
The useless secret of creation: he,
The fairy king, slow-winged and sad of heart,
Searched out a new home from the host of heaven,
And chose that star for him and his to dwell in.
Celio. I said so.
Sylvia. And, beside, that this strange science
Impart to thee a darling fairy did—
One of a company that roam the earth
To happy and inspire such clay-clad souls
As recognise their heavenly geniture,
And separate them from the loathly world:
And that this spirit visits earth to-night
To revelate some pleasure new to thee,
Which thou, sweetheart, art going to share with me?
Celio. Hark to that singing! 'tis the fairy's voice.
Rupert. We overheard you here unwillingly,
But with wills well inclined would now remain.
Celio. That's as the fairy pleases. Here he comes.
Cinthio [To Faustine]. All are engrossed: no fear of our discovery.
We'll wait awhile, then slip unseen away.
Felice [To Bruno]. Here be miracles about to be.
Enter 1st Fairy.
1st Fairy. Song.
On the mountain's crown,
When the sun goes down,
You may see me robed in the bright crimson.
In the still mid-night
When the moon shines bright,
I shimmer down on a beam of light.
I guide the mariner's crazy craft,
When the billows are raging high.
I glide before the wandering boor,
And lead him safe to his own house door
For love of charity.
I hover near the poet's ear,
And haunt him till he sings:
The minstrel's hand my unseen wand
Guides o'er the throbbing strings.