 | The Legend of Stauffenberg |  |
Scene I.
—The woods of Stauffenberg. Night.Wood Spirits rising.—Among them Ianthe.
No. 1.—ORCHESTRAL PRELUDE.
No. 2.—CHORUS OF WOOD SPIRITS.
Garish day hath closed his eye,
Mortals tired to rest are laid.
And the chaste moon, mounted high,
Bids us forth o'er lawn and glade;
When day drowses, then wake we,
Haunters of the woodland sweet,
On deeds of gentle ministry
Winging our airy circles fleet.
Hither and thither!
Now here, now there!
Whither, O whither
On earth or in air,
Do we not wander, do we not wander?
We charm the drops in our dells that shine
From the foamy beard of old Father Rhine,
While he lies dreaming yonder.
Mortals tired to rest are laid.
And the chaste moon, mounted high,
Bids us forth o'er lawn and glade;
When day drowses, then wake we,
Haunters of the woodland sweet,
On deeds of gentle ministry
Winging our airy circles fleet.
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Now here, now there!
Whither, O whither
On earth or in air,
Do we not wander, do we not wander?
We charm the drops in our dells that shine
From the foamy beard of old Father Rhine,
While he lies dreaming yonder.
Virgins we of Cynthia's train,
From the swart sun hiding shy,
Never day-beam dared profane
The cold caverns where we lie;
But by night when small flowers wake,
All for thirst nigh-withering,
Moon-blest dews from cloud and lake
In our vestal hands we bring.
Hither and thither!
Now here, now there!
Whither, O whither
On earth or in air,
Do we not wander, do we not wander?
We charm the drops in our dells that shine
From the foamy beard of old Father Rhine,
While he lies dreaming yonder.
From the swart sun hiding shy,
Never day-beam dared profane
The cold caverns where we lie;
But by night when small flowers wake,
All for thirst nigh-withering,
Moon-blest dews from cloud and lake
In our vestal hands we bring.
Hither and thither!
Now here, now there!
Whither, O whither
On earth or in air,
Do we not wander, do we not wander?
We charm the drops in our dells that shine
From the foamy beard of old Father Rhine,
While he lies dreaming yonder.
(They disperse leaving Ianthe alone.)
No. 3.—Ianthe (Recit.)
Alone at last! Deep coverts of green leaves,
Lit by cold glimpses of the visiting moon,
With wistful heart and pain of unshed tears,
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And many a night, my pale day-wearied flowers
Shall look for me in vain, the loving tongues
Of happy flitting sprites call me in vain!
Sisters, farewell! Still do your innocent rites
And sylvan charities. Forget her name,—
Ianthe's name—who thus forgets her vow.
The sun has looked on me, and all my breast
Aches with strange fire. This throbbing human heart
Love gives me. Lord of Stauffenberg, I come
To make in thy bright world my untried home.
ARIA.
Fall off, my wings! Insphere me, dull-paced flesh!
Lo, on the verge I stand
Of the mysterious change that clothes me fresh
For that new wonderland!
Farewell, my dances in moonlighted dells,
Farewell, my trees, my flowers, my vestal vow,
With what high-billowing hopes my bosom swells;
I am a Woman now!
Lo, on the verge I stand
Of the mysterious change that clothes me fresh
For that new wonderland!
Farewell, my dances in moonlighted dells,
Farewell, my trees, my flowers, my vestal vow,
With what high-billowing hopes my bosom swells;
I am a Woman now!
O heart, why now so fiercely glad,
When, heart, I fain would weep,
Or grow divinely sad,
Sighing thee to soft sleep.
O heart, O new-born heart,
Tell me, fond heart, what sets thee beating,
What elvish, fluttering thing thou art,
That will not rest for no entreating?
When, heart, I fain would weep,
Or grow divinely sad,
Sighing thee to soft sleep.
O heart, O new-born heart,
Tell me, fond heart, what sets thee beating,
What elvish, fluttering thing thou art,
That will not rest for no entreating?
No. 4.—THE COMING OF DAWN. (Instrumental Symphony.)
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O bliss to meet the pure face of the dawn
That once I fled in fear—in sunbright dew
To bathe my woman's feet! O deeper bliss
To hide my blood-warmed cheek 'mid fragrant leaves
Counting the tremulous moments, till the horn
Cries to my heart: “Conrad comes hunting here!”
(Horns heard in the distance.)
No. 6.—HUNTSMAN'S CHORUS.
The lark was up an hour ago,
The dew begins to dry,
Then Huntsman, ho! thy bugle blow,
The hounds are in full cry.
Tra, la, la! Tra, la, la!
The hounds are in full cry.
The dew begins to dry,
Then Huntsman, ho! thy bugle blow,
The hounds are in full cry.
Tra, la, la! Tra, la, la!
The hounds are in full cry.
No timid deer we come to scare,
In the pleasant woods to-day,
But we rouse the bear in his gloomy lair,
And bring the boar to bay.
Tra, la, la!
We bring the boar to bay.
In the pleasant woods to-day,
But we rouse the bear in his gloomy lair,
And bring the boar to bay.
Tra, la, la!
We bring the boar to bay.
O merrily shines the sun this morn,
In the green heart of the wood,
But rest we scorn, till we wind the horn,
Where he shines on the boar's heart-blood.
Tra, la, la!
Where he shines on the boar's heart-blood.
In the green heart of the wood,
But rest we scorn, till we wind the horn,
Where he shines on the boar's heart-blood.
Tra, la, la!
Where he shines on the boar's heart-blood.
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A noble burst! and yet I care not for it.
I'll hunt no more to-day. This is the spot
Where that mysterious impulse of deep joy
Set my heart aching. Ha! what have we here?
A spirit or a woman? A woman sure,
Weeping, and lovelier than my woodland dream!
I'll speak to her.
No. 8.—Duo.—Conrad (and Ianthe).
O nymph of dawn, fair vision of delight,
That with wild sighs hast set my bosom swelling,
What art thou? Whence, in this heart-piercing plight,
Comest thou to these rough woods for nightly dwelling?
That with wild sighs hast set my bosom swelling,
What art thou? Whence, in this heart-piercing plight,
Comest thou to these rough woods for nightly dwelling?
O pardon, sweet, that on thy solitude
Thus rudely I have burst, who merely pray,
With heart by thy deep beauty all subdued,
To serve thee, love thee, kiss those tears away.
Thus rudely I have burst, who merely pray,
With heart by thy deep beauty all subdued,
To serve thee, love thee, kiss those tears away.
Ianthe.
O gentle knight, for gentle and a knight
I do believe thee, grant but one sweet favour,
To her who comes in this unhappy plight,
To thee alone, to serve her and to save her.
I do believe thee, grant but one sweet favour,
To her who comes in this unhappy plight,
To thee alone, to serve her and to save her.
O let me trust the music of thy tongue,
That most persuades when most it seems to pray!
Swear by the heart of constancy, still young,
To serve me, love me, kiss my tears away.
That most persuades when most it seems to pray!
Swear by the heart of constancy, still young,
To serve me, love me, kiss my tears away.
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O truth alone makes music on the/thy tongue
That can persuade when it would seem to pray!
I/Yet swear by constancy's own heart, still young,
To serve thee/me, love thee/me, kiss thy/my tears away.
Conrad.
I swear, I swear, by yonder quenchless star!
Ianthe.
O will thy love pass with the setting sun?
Conrad.
Death, who mars all, alone its day shall mar.
Ianthe.
O welcome night when that fair day is done!
Conrad.
Thus let me seal the compact on thy lips.
Ianthe.
Thus ever shine love's day without eclipse!
No. 9.—CHORUS OF ELEMENTAL SPIRITS.
1.
From earth and from air,From the floods overhead,
From the floods underground,
From the caverns of fire,
Ianthe! Ianthe!
We bid thee beware!
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By the fears thou hast found,
By the storms of desire
That circle thee round,
And whirl thee and shake thee
And never forsake thee,
We bid thee beware!
Ianthe! Ianthe!
Lest anguish o'ertake thee.
2.
Ianthe! Ianthe! we call thee, we call thee,In pity we call thee, lest ruin befall thee.
Trust rather the bear,
The wolf in his lair,
The fox in his den,
Than the tongues of false men!
Ianthe! Ianthe!
No. 10.—RECIT. AND DUO, WITH CHORUS.
Ianthe.
Peace! ye ill-boding spirits, give me peace!
Let these wild clamours cease!
[Ianthe]
(To Conrad).
Ah! thou hast much to hear—I dread, I dread!
Conrad.
For lovers' sins love's shrift is quickly said!
Ianthe.
O thou art true! Thou thinkest me a woman?
Conrad.
A nymph, a fay, O something more than human!
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Hark! let me whisper in thine ear.
Chorus of Elemental Spirits.
Ianthe! Ianthe!
Ai! Ai!
Ianthe.
I am no ghost, I am no dream,
Yet not solely what I seem;
A perfect woman part by part,
With a woman's form and a woman's heart.
My eyes can weep, my cheek can glow,
Pierce my breast and the blood will flow:
I was but one of the loving sprites
That tend the innocent flowers o' nights;
I grew, through trance of long agony,
A warm sweet woman for love of thee.
I love thee, I love thee, come weal or woe,
No pale Eve's daughter can love thee so.
Give me thy love or let me die
This moment everlastingly!
Conrad.
Be thou demon, or be thou sprite,
Thy wild eyes lighten with pure love-light.
I love thee, I love thee, come weal or woe,
No pale Eve's daughter could love me so.
Both.
I love thee, I love thee, come weal or woe,
No pale Eve's daughter could love me/thee so.
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This moment everlastingly!
Chorus of Elemental Spirits.
Ianthe! Ianthe!
Ai! Ai!
No. 11.—DUO AND CHORUS.
Ianthe.
O joy ineffable!
O pain long past!
Deep in thy heart to dwell,
Thine, thine at last!
Both (AND CHORUS)
Be true! be true!
Conrad.
O joy ineffable!
O pain long past!
Deep in my heart to dwell,
Mine, mine at last!
Both.
Then love be true!
Be true! be true!
Chorus of Elemental Sprits.
Be true! be true!
| The Legend of Stauffenberg | |