Vocal Parts of An Entertainment Called Apollo and Daphne : or The Burgo-Master Trick'd | ||
The Stage darken'd with Clouds
to represent the Night. Morpheus
descends in a black
Robe, spangled with Stars,
his Head crown'd with Poppies,
and a Leaden Mace in
his Hand.
Morpheus.
Now sable-vested Clouds o'erspread
The darken'd Globe; now hazy Dews
And humid Vapours soft distil,
Inviting to Repose.—
Enter Mystery, to him.
Myst.
—Behold!
Myst'ry, thy faithful Slave, attends,
Wakeful alone to thy Commands:
And, see, the Partner of my Cares,
Slumber, at hand thy secret Rites to aid.
Enter Slumber, on the other Side.
Slum.
Soft!—A dead Stillness o'er the World prevails:
My Pow'rs diffus'd have stifled Sound.
Morph.
'Tis well;—Together, wrapp'd in Shade,
We'll tread the gloomy Waste of Air.
Ocean forgets to swell his Waves;
The rustling Breath of Winds is hush'd;
And Brooks scarce murmur as they glide.
Only the Midnight Screech-Owl's Voice,
And Howl of Wolves presume to break
The solemn Silence of our Reign.
Ev'n Man, unquiet Man, 's at Rest.
All three.
Mortals, whom anxious Passions sway,
Whom Cares perplex, and Toils decay,
All their Relief from Night receive.
Slum.
In soothing Dreams they taste the Joy,
Myst.
Which Day and waking Hours destroy,
Morph.
'Tis, when they sleep, alone they live.
All three.
Mortals, whom anxious Passions sway,
Whom Cares perplex, and Toils decay,
All their Relief from Night receive.
[After the Air, they all Three ascend. The Night disappears, and leaves the Morning.
Morpheus.
Now sable-vested Clouds o'erspread
The darken'd Globe; now hazy Dews
And humid Vapours soft distil,
Inviting to Repose.—
4
Myst.
—Behold!
Myst'ry, thy faithful Slave, attends,
Wakeful alone to thy Commands:
And, see, the Partner of my Cares,
Slumber, at hand thy secret Rites to aid.
Enter Slumber, on the other Side.
Slum.
Soft!—A dead Stillness o'er the World prevails:
My Pow'rs diffus'd have stifled Sound.
Morph.
'Tis well;—Together, wrapp'd in Shade,
We'll tread the gloomy Waste of Air.
Ocean forgets to swell his Waves;
The rustling Breath of Winds is hush'd;
And Brooks scarce murmur as they glide.
Only the Midnight Screech-Owl's Voice,
And Howl of Wolves presume to break
The solemn Silence of our Reign.
Ev'n Man, unquiet Man, 's at Rest.
All three.
Mortals, whom anxious Passions sway,
Whom Cares perplex, and Toils decay,
All their Relief from Night receive.
5
In soothing Dreams they taste the Joy,
Myst.
Which Day and waking Hours destroy,
Morph.
'Tis, when they sleep, alone they live.
All three.
Mortals, whom anxious Passions sway,
Whom Cares perplex, and Toils decay,
All their Relief from Night receive.
[After the Air, they all Three ascend. The Night disappears, and leaves the Morning.
Vocal Parts of An Entertainment Called Apollo and Daphne : or The Burgo-Master Trick'd | ||