University of Virginia Library

WALPURGIS NIGHT'S DREAM; OR, The Golden Bridal of Oberon and Titania.
AN INTERLUDE.
Manager.
To-day our trouble is but small,
No need of nice machinery;
A valley moist and hill are all
The necessary scenery.

Herald.
'Mong mortals with the fiftieth year
Of wedlock comes the Golden Feast—
A happier feast of gold is here
Commemorating discord ceast.

Oberon.
Subject spirits crowd the scene,
Celebrate, with exultation,
The union of your king and queen,
This happy reconciliation.

Puck.
Here comes Puck—you'll always find me
Circling in the merry dance,
And a hundred more behind me
Twinkling joyous feet advance.

Ariel.
Sweet, heavenly sweet is Ariel's song.
What a crowd of hideous features
The music wins, and what a throng
Follows me of lovely creatures!

Oberon.
Men and wives who would agree,
We invite your imitation;
The only certain recipe
For dying love is separation.

Titania.
If wife be cross, and husband fuming,
To make them know each other's worth,
To the South Pole take the woman,
And her husband to the North.

The whole Orchestra.
Insect swarms, in murmuring flight.
Our musicians of the night,
Fly, and gnat, and bee, and beetle,
Ply mouth, nose, and winglet little,
Crickets, chirping 'mong the bushes,
And hoarse frogs croaking from the rushes.

Solo.
Hear the drowsy bagpipe groan,
The bag's a soap-blown bubble airy,
And grumbling through the winding drone
Come sullen sounds extraordinary.

Embryo Spirit.
Spider's foot and lizard's belly,
And winglets for the embryo!
The animated lump of jelly
Writes verses of the smoothest flow.

Partners Dancing.
Little steps—light, springy leaps
Through honey-dew and field-flowers fragrant;
How pleasant, but that something keeps
From fields of air the willing vagrant!

Inquisitive Traveller.
A thousand figures here burlesque
A masquerade's wild gaiety,
And mingling with the groupes grotesque,
See Oberon the little deity.

Orthodox Divine.
What! without claws—without a tail!
Yet all whose thoughts are sober on
Such serious subjects know too well
The “Gods of Greece” and Oberon.

Artist from the North.
As yet my works are sketches merely,
Though you'll admit done prettily,
But I've made my arrangements nearly
For travelling in Italy.

Formalist.
What sinful, riotous excesses!
Fool that I was to join the crowd here—
Such shockingly indecent dresses!
And but a witch in two wears powder!

Young Witch.
Keep powder, patch, and petticoat
For grey-haired hags—skins smeared and sooty—
While I sit fearless on my goat
In the free pride of naked beauty.

Matron.
For scolding we've too much politeness—
Sneers like this are best forgotten.
Rosy cheek, and soft neck's whiteness,
May they soon be coarse and rotten!

Leader of the Band.
Insect-harpers, as you wander
Round the hall in many a ringlet,
Spare the naked beauty yonder
Wound of sting, or touch of winglet.
Grashoppers from the green bushes,
Brown frogs croaking from the rushes,
Brave musicians for the night,
Watch that the tune and time go right.

Weathercock
(pointing in one direction).
Weathercock (pointing in the opposite direction).

Xenien.
Small as insects, here we bring
Our little sheers; the crops we gather
Will be a grateful offering
To Satan, our liege lord and father!

Hennings.
What merry groupes are crowding there!
Up to every frolic started;
And when they're gone—I won't say where—
We call them foolish, but good-hearted.

Musaget.
Oh happy, happy bard! whom chance
To such a circle introduces,
With these I'd rather lead the dance
Than be Apollo with the muses.

Genius of the Old Times.
Come, follow me through smooth and rough:
Cling close—there's little need of ceremony.
On Blocksberg we'll find room enough,
The wide Parnassus 'tis of Germany.

Inquisitive Traveller.
What's yonder pompous fellow's name?
With long and solemn strides he's pacing,
And, like a dog that snuffs the game,
The Jesuits, methinks, he's tracing.

Crane.
I seek my prey in waters clear,
I seek it in the troubled rivers;
This scene is my delight, for here
Are devils mixed with true believers.

Worldling.
For true believers every thing
Works good in ways all unexpected;
With hymns the Blocksberg rocks shall ring
From many a convent here erected.

Dancer.
Is this another company
With trumpets sounding—banners glittering?
No; 'tis the boreal lights I see:
From marshes hear the booming bittern.

Dancing-Master.
Devils—how they fling and jump—
Through the figure flounce and scuffle;
Spite of wooden leg and hump,
How they caper, cut, and shuffle!

Jack Indifferent.
Hatred in every heart! the tone
Of Orpheus' lyre, with charm celestial,
Soothed brutes; to-night the bagpipe's drone
Tames into peace the blind and bestial!

Dogmatist.
Well, I'll maintain it—spite of sneer,
Or argument, or gibe uncivil—
I see a thousand devils here,
Which proves the being of a devil.

Idealist.
Imagination's power to-night
For my sensorium too intense is;
If I be all that meets my sight,
Then surely I have lost my senses.

Realist.
Reality ... is torturing me;
I'm wearied with this scene of wonder;
The ground—it seems the ground to be—
Gives way my tottering feet from under.

Supernaturalist.
Here, for my system, as I rove,
Delighted I derive assistance;
If there be devils, it must prove
Of angels also the existence.

Sceptic.
Misled they follow fairy rays,
That promise gold with gay delusion:
Devil and DOUBT, the proverb says,
And both increase to-night's confusion.

Leader of the Band.
Grashopper among the bushes,
Brown frog croaking from the rushes,
Hell and all its devils haunt ye,
Good-for-nothing dilettanti—
Pretty sort of harmony,
Nose of gnat and snout of fly.

Shrewd Fellows.
Call us Sans-souci—for you know
That each of us, a gay philosopher,
If on his feet he cannot go,
Walks on his head, nor fears a toss over.

Awkward clumsy Creatures.
Oh once, Heaven help us! we could dance:
How pompously we then did swagger!
Now shoes out-worn, and sore feet torn,
Along the course we faintly stagger.

Will-o'-the-Wisps.
From the sink and slough we come,
From the hole of steaming nitre;
And yet, in all this dazzling room,
Shine there sparks more gay or brighter?

Falling Star.
Rapidly I shot from high,
With fiery course in brightness starry;
Here broken on the grass I lie,
With none to help me, none to carry.

Heavy Bodies.
Places—places—round go we—
Where we dance how bare the sod is;
Spirits move, and all may see
Spirits have substantial bodies.

Puck.
Like awkward elephants they thump
The ground with clumsy hoofs and heavy;
Strange shadows! Puck alone is plump,
The sleekest spirit at the levee.

Ariel.
If wings be yours—boon Nature's gift—
And if the spirit so disposes,
Then follow Ariel—follow swift—
Your guide to yonder hill of roses.

Orchestra
(pianissimo.)
Daylight!—the cloud-built stage—the wreaths
Of vapour,—where are they?
On reed and rush the free air breathes,
And sweeps the dream away.