University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

A Heath. Time—Noon.
Flor.
(without.)
(Enters).

What a wild and desolate place this is! I saw the horrid feet of a wolf just now, printed in sand and blood, as if it had drawn a stag backward. Not a word to the signor! He would fancy a wolf in every gush of the wind. A little more to the right, signor. There now, I declare, you walk very well without a guide.

Enter Fontano.
Fon.
Just here I do. Where are we? In a forest?

Flor.

On a low, sandy, heath; just like a desert. We have left the woods. What a vast number of birds there are in this wilderness, signor. I wonder they should live, where there is not a soul to listen to their music. Did you not say, signor, that the bird, we heard just now, was a nightingale?

Fon.
Yes; 'twas a nightingale: and notes so wild,
So rich, so long continued, never yet
Were heard in Syria, or in Persian groves;
Circassian vallies; Tempe's sacred glen;
Nor e'en amid the gardens of Damascus.

Flor.

Fairies, they say, signor, live upon the brains of nightingales.

Fon.
Do they so, my little bird of Paradise?

Flor.

Yes, signor; and not only on the brains of nightingales; but upon the leaves of violets, blue and white, yellow and purple; single and double; mixt and unmixt. Oh—it must be excellent food!

Fon.
Sing you, and dance, too, at the self-same moment?
One might suppose, thou wert a wood-nymph; born
On fields of Enna, whence the Stygian Jove
Rapt the fair daughter of majestic Ceres.
Why dost thou dance?

Flor.
Because the sun doth shine,
And make me glad. I feel, as I could spring
High as the rainbow. Sitting on her ring,
I'd hail the stars; while all below would seem
Like seas of milk, encompassing a land,
Flourishing with vi'lets, hyacinths, and jasmine,
Roses, carnations, daffodils, and snowdrops.

Fon.
(aside.)
This boy, at times, seems older than he is.
Sometimes he prattles like a child; then seems
All wisdom like a man:—now boy, now girl;
Nature's own child. He dances round me, too,
Like mountain zephyr round an Oread queen.

Flor.
To sing when we dance, and to dance when we sing,
Are enough to turn shepherd-boy into a king:
To play on a viol, and waltz on a green,
Are enough to turn shepherdess into a queen.

Fon.
Thou art so cheerful and engaging, boy,
That nightingales will cover thee with leaves;
And flowers spring up, in myriads, o'er thy grave,
To tell each stranger, as he passes by,
That Nature's happiest work lies buried there.

Flor.

O that were charming, should it e'er prove true. Now, signor, I'll sing you a regular song; but you must not laugh. Don't look at me, signor. I cannot sing, if you look.

Fon.
Would that I could! alas, alas, I never—

Flor.

Oh me! I beg your pardon, signor. I quite forgot, that you were blind. I am a thoughtless little person; without wit; and, I am sorry to say, without much money.

Fon.
You make me smile, in spite of all my sorrows.

Flor.

Fon.
Beautifully said, and beautifully sung.

Flor.

But there is only one stanza, signor. Shall I sing you the other?

Fon.
Ay, my dear boy; full twenty, if you will.

Flor.
(aside.)

Now then. I'm almost ashamed, too. But I love, from my heart, to cheer the mind of my master.

Fon.
I cannot answer;—since you sing so well.
But I am weary, e'en to fainting, boy.

Flor.
Then let us lie down, signor. There;—now you are safe. [Places Fontano in a nook.

Though it is little more than noon, this shade
Shall make me sleep, as if it were the night.
But do not wake me, sire, as mothers oft
Wake their loved infants, when they sleep too long;
Fearing, that death prevents their eyes from opening.
But let me rest, till sleep itself forsakes
Its downy couch.

Fon.
Sleep well; and may
Enchanting dreams delight thy slumbering lids.

Flor.
[Pulls out her beads, and begins telling them.

Fon.
Sweet boy—he slept before his hymn was closed.
Guard him, ye watchers of the day and night:
Guard him, ye spirits of the azure deep;
And YE, who guide with hallow'd steps to heaven.

[Sleeps.