University of Virginia Library

A GROVE.
GOSS'MOUR and MILKAH, lying on banks in mournful attitudes.
SONG.
GOSS'MOUR.
Shall our peerless queen remain
Still oppress'd with doubt and pain?
She, whose visage, pure and bright,
Emulates the snow-drop white;
She, whom, trim in regal state,
The daisy fails to imitate;
She, whose dancing on the green
With such wonder has been seen,
That her graceful revelry
Peering Morn unwillingly
Hath interrupted—Oh! shall she,
Sunken deep in misery,
Never learn what is become
Of her boy of rosy bloom,
Her much-lov'd Oriel, lawful heir
To Kenna's grove and regal chair?

MILKAH.
Soon may Oberon untie
The twisted knot of witchery,
Which Titania's sense hath bound,
So many moons, in sleep profound!
Wond'rous means! which, for her sake,
The monarch was compell'd to take,
To calm the outrage of her grief,
And give her wounded mind relief;
So frantic were her cries, so wild,
When first she miss'd her lovely child.

GOSS'MOUR.
This night, soon as in floods of sleep
Mortals 'gan their senses steep,
Our little fav'rite, gentle Puck,
Frequent herald of good luck,
Wander'd forth, in duteous love,
To search the mazes of our grove;
Ne'er to return, but to relate
Some tidings of our Oriel's fate.

MILKAH.
Or I mistake, or Puck and you,
My Goss'mour, if report say true,
Have sometime pass'd the summer-day,
On beds of flow'rs, in am'rous play.

GOSS'MOUR.
Oft beneath the primrose shade
Softly-sighing hath he stray'd,
Breathing such sweet vows of love,
As fill'd with incense Kenna's grove;
Hence is Robin well inclin'd
To soothe and please his Goss'mour's mind;
And sure his errand well hath sped,
For here he scuds with nimble tread.

Enter PUCK.
SONG.
PUCK.
Quick, and light as the air,
In and out, here and there,
Have I tript, till I'm weary to death;
Lend, lend me your hand,
For I hardly can stand—
Lack-a-day! I am quite out of breath.

GOSS'MOUR.
My gentle Robin, I am griev'd—
Here rest thy head till thou'rt reliev'd.
Has aught, beside the length of way,
Which thou to-night hast measur'd, say,
Alarm'd thee, or thy steps misled,
Or caus'd thy foot awry to tread?
Or pois'nous thing, or pest unclear,
Tainted Kenna's wholesome air?—
Trust me, I joy to see thee safe—

PUCK.
Ha! ha!—I cannot chuse but laugh—
How credulous and blind you are!
Mortals in love scarce blinder are:
So oft, as, through the live-long night,
Thou'st known me range in airy flight,
Or Dian's stated circle run,
Ere forty minutes well were done,
By 'hest of royal Oberon:
Or, for thy sake, in blaze of day,
The butterfly, with amorous play,
In many a various-winding-ring,
Have chac'd to steal his painted wing,
Of new device, and beauty rare,
To form a robe for Goss'mour fair—
By loyalty or love inspir'd,
When hast thou known thy Robin tir'd?
Or when did any pois'nous thing,
Or noisome pest, on vapour's wing,
Wafted through these windings clear,
Come the fairy-essence near?

GOSS'MOUR.
Mischievous elf! no more shalt thou
To Goss'mour breathe thy faithless vow;
No more, in lilly-perfum'd vale,
Repeat thy soft deceitful tale.
Can mortals more perfidious prove?
To win, then mock a maiden's love!
Away.—

PUCK.
—I'm gone—elsewhere to tell
What I have learn'd of Oriel.

[Going.
MILKAH.
You shall not think to cheat us so—
This moment tell us all you know.

[Running after him.
PUCK.
List then!—Such wonders shall ye hear,
As never enter'd fairy-ear.—
Through all this flow'r-embroider'd grove,
Where elves and fays delight to rove,
Through bush, through brake, through lowly dale,
Through dank, through dry, o'er stream, through vale;
By ev'ry odour-breathing bed,
Where violets nod the purple head;
By ev'ry bank of gurgling rill,
Embellish'd with the daffodil;
Ev'ry mead, and every mound,
Where cowslips, harebells, paint the ground;
Ev'ry bower, where jess'mines fair
Softly scent the ambient air,
Or luscious woodbine, or flush'd rose,
Round a lavish fragrance throws—
Nay, ev'n each narrow crankling nook,
Where playful trills the scantiest brook,
And ev'ry shrub, where rude mishap
In tender rind hath made a gap—

MILKAH.
Thou hast explor'd?—

PUCK.
—All these throughout—
Your Robin has not set a foot.

SONG.
GOSS'MOUR.
Faithless!—through some distant grove
Then thy steps have stray'd;
Thou hast breath'd thy vows of love
To some happier maid:
Henceforth in my bosom's grace
Never shalt thou find a place.

PUCK.
Sweetest!—through no distant grove
Have my footsteps stray'd;
No, nor have my vows of love
Tempted other maid:
In thy Robin's love and grace
Thou alone shalt find a place.

[GOSS'MOUR, PUCK.
Together.]
In thy Goss'mour's love and grace, &c. / In thy Robin's love and grace, &c.

GOSS'MOUR.
O forgive if jealous fear
Finds an easy passage here.

PUCK.
Come, a sweet amends I'll make:
Our Royal Mistress is awake.—
The cause of all your grief and care,
Where Oriel is, why fled from here,
She knows, and all will soon approve.
Attentive now in duteous order move,
While I with magic sounds awake the grove!
SONG.

[Exeunt.