Flor.And yet not wonderful!
I am but one of many. This fair isle
Teems with poor prisoned souls! There’s not a tree—
There’s not a rock, a brook, a shrub, a stone,
But holds some captive spirit who awaits
The unsought love that is to set him free!
Mel. (to Vavir). We’ll keep this secret safely to ourselves.
If it should get abroad, this little isle
Will barely hold the maidens who will come,
Prepared to pass the spring-time of their lives