Sylvia or, The May Queen. A Lyrical Drama. By George Darley |
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Scene II.
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 | Sylvia |  |
Scene II.
A Maybush on a village-green!
Its turban'd head with garlands wound,
Its rich skirts spreading on the ground;
Like a sultana of the East
In all her gay apparel drest.
Emerald, turkis, ruby rare,
Beryl, tourmaline are there;
Pearl, and precious chrysolite,
Sapphire blue, and topaz bright;
With every gem that ever shone
A Tartar's belt or bonnet on.
But fresher in their different lustres
Our dew-besprent festoons, and clusters;
Filling wide Nature's boundless room.—
What is a jewel-dropping tree,
O May-bush! when compared to thee?
Chorus.
Sing hi! the hawthorn pink and pale!
When hedge-pipes they begin to chime,
And summer-flowers to sow the dale.
Beneath the early village-thorn,
And to the sound of tabor sweet
Bid welcome to the Maying-morn!
With crutch in hand our sports to see,
And both go tottering, tattling home,
Topful of wine as well as glee!
So taste it, Shepherds! while ye may:
For who can tell that joy like this
Will come another holiday?
1st Peasant.
Ha! ha! ha!—Now! who's for nine-pins?
2d Peasant.
Who's for ball?
3d Peasant.
I!
4th Peasant.
And I!
5th Peasant.
I'm for the bowling-green!
6th Peasant.
For ball! for ball!—Pins are only for women and tailors!
Geronymo.
Stay your feet, lads!—and your tongues, ladies!—they are both running without reason. Will you hear me?
All.
Hear him! hear him! hear him!
Geronymo.
Plague on't! You make more noise in keeping silence than the town-criers. Will you stop your bawling?
All.
Ay, stop your bawling! stop your bawling!
Geronymo.
Mercy upon me, what a set of peacemakers!—Then you will not listen to me?—You fellow here, with the bull-neck, roar me down these rascals!—only, pray, do not gape so wide, else there is some danger your head may fall off by the ears.
Silence!—Let no man say another word, or I'll make him cry peccavi!
Geronymo.
Well said, Hircoles!—you might play Hircoles, without his club, for your fist falls like a weaver's beam.—Now be quiet! Hear what I have to bring forth! This it is, lads; this it is, fellows: or, as it were, this is the tot of the matter; that is to say, in short and briefly to complain the whole business—We have forgotten to choose a May-Queen!—Shall I be heard in this land here-after?
All.
A May-Queen! a May-Queen! Who shall we choose? Who is she to be? Which is the handsomest? And the prettiest? Ay, and the most beautiful too? Which is she?
Geronymo.
Shall I be heard again, I say?
1st Peasant.
Silence!
Geronymo.
Thanks, thou stertorean fellow!— If Wisdom would be heard, she must always keep a swaggerer like this at her elbow. I say, my friends: I humbly repose—that is, I succumb to your better judgments, whether, in this case—mark me!—thus it stands, or, as I may say, here 'tis: There are so many of these lasses who are the handsomest, and prettiest, ay, and most beautiful one of them all, that I think it will go hard with us to choose her who is the most so. Therefore I
All.
Ay! ay! let straws end it!
Geronymo.
Why come then! see what it is to have a noddle. Here is my hat to hold the lots. Mistress Stephania, a straw for you; another straw for you, Mistress Roselle; another, 'nother, 'nother, —straws a piece for the prettiest six among ye. Now listen to me: this is the case, and thus it stands, or as may be delivered in one word, here 'tis: Whoever of ye pulls the longest straw is to be May-Queen. Do I speak like a wiseacre or no?
All.
Like a very Salmon! Spoke like a very Salmon!
2d Peasant.
Should we not take the senses of the assembly upon it?
All.
No! no! no!—Come, lasses! draw! draw! draw!
Stephania.
Very well.
[Pulls a straw.]Roselle.
Ay, very well.
[Pulls.]1st Girl.
[Pulls.]
O lawk! such a pudget of a thing!
2d Girl.
Now for me!
[Pulls.]3d Girl.
[Pulling.]
I vow I am the longest of you all!—I vow so it is!
Stephania.
Hark! hark! O hark! what measures play,
So sweet! so clear! yet far away!
Roselle.
Whence is the music? who can say?
Jacintha.
'Tis like the crystal sound of wells,
Betrampled by the sparkling rain!
Stephania.
Or dew-drops fal'n on silver bells
That tingle o'er and o'er again!
1st Girl.
'Tis in the air!
2d Girl.
'Tis under ground!
3d Girl.
'Tis every where!
4th Girl.
The magic sound!
All.
Hush! O hush! and let us hear:
'Tis too beautiful to fear.
Osme
sings and plays.
O come hither!
Lads and lasses come and see!
Trip it neatly,
Foot it featly,
O'er the grassy turf to me!
Hung with flowers,
Richly curtain'd halls for you!
Meads for rovers,
Shades for lovers,
Violet beds, and pillows too!
You may gather
Sandal-deep in seas of bloom!
Pale-faced lily,
Proud Sweet-Willy,
Gorgeous rose, and golden broom!
For sweet bosoms,
Garlands green to bind the hair;
Crowns and kirtles
Weft of myrtles,
Youth may choose, and Beauty wear!
For bright faces
Shine in ev'ry rill that flows;
Every minute
You look in it
Still more bright your beauty grows!
Nooks for peeping,
Glades for dancing, smooth and fine!
Fruits delicious
For who wishes,
Nectar, dew, and honey-wine!
O come hither!
Lads and lasses come and see!
Trip it neatly,
Foot it featly,
O'er the grassy turf to me!
[Exeunt Peasants led by the music.
| Sylvia | |