Count. Now for our sport, which ends not in the field.
GLEE.
I.
When Phœbus' rays no more appear,
And falc'ners further sport decline;
When ploughmen from their fields repair,
And mournful night-birds rend the air,
Then give me wine:
And at home the chase shall reign,
For in wine it lives again.
II.
When loud the chilling tempest blows,
And winter makes all Nature pine;
When lowing herds, and rooks, and crows
Do droop and moan at frost and snows,
Then give me wine, &c.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.—The garden of Corbey abbey, with practicable gates, over which is a projecting tablet, with an inscription nearly effaced. In the back, an ascending avenue through pine trees: in the centre a statue of Charlemagne; on the base of which is written, "Charlemagne grants the power of sanctuary and of pardon to the abbots of Corbey forever."
Enter Bernardo and St. Clair from the abbey.
St. Clair. Nay, brother, you're to blame. The church, the court, all Germany, applaud the proud election of the monk Bellarmin; for Corbey abbey was too long disgraced by our late worldly abbot's vices.