English

21

Tel hunched rowers Alexander
You brought - who laughed in an iris hat
Tremble a new abduction ... I see ... far of Paris ...
The Athenian poet have you weighed the ashes?

22

With the air of a dream appeared yet
What do you want, ghost, at the corner of the street?

23

Soldier was a golden footsteps. A servant
Put his pitcher in the shade, we saw jump
Two chulos followed - and all that dancing ...
O Madrid, this is not something we invented!

24

11

As a wildlife continues the golden bird and memory,
Tristan, capricious fowler of your verses
Singing in my heart, however, that through
On the den crying Bearn cold black water ...

12

O attentive silence of a honey-colored night
Melancholy, and you, music, voice from heaven.

13

Or chaperone or husband know Melicertes,
A yeuter be close to them as it is good to sit,
Or, when the eye of heaven fades fingers evening
This small street where love confers us.

14

1

No, it's nothing. It is only the wood sighs,
And the night dream in the morning.
It was I who was looking for you. Does not rule out my hand:
I'd take your mouth and your smile.

2

My sisters smoke, whose urgent hand
The node shin ignited the decent dawn.

3

To hear the crack black frost cedars,
Your arms were sweet to me, and the inn and winter!
Softer encor to hear the edge of the green way
The song of the frog, and relive the source.

4

THE SECOND FYTTE .

O F a blind beggar's daughter most bright,
That late was betrothed unto a young knight;
All the discourse thereof you did see;
But now comes the wedding of pretty Bessee.

Within a gorgeous palace most brave,
Adorned with all the cost they could have,
This wedding was kept most sumptuouslie,
And all for the credit of pretty Bessee.

All kind of dainties, and delicates sweet
Were bought for the banquet, as it was most meet;

PARI THE FIRST .

It was a blind beggar, had long lost his sight,
He had a fair daughter of beauty most bright;
And many a gallant brave suitor had she,
For none was so comely as pretty Bessee.

And though she was truly of favour most fair,
Yet seeing she was but a poor beggar's heir,
Of ancient housekeepers despised was she,
Whose sons came as suitors to pretty Bessee.

Wherefore in great sorrow fair Bessy did say,
" Good father, and mother, let me go away
To seek out my fortune, whatever it be. "

The Prince's Chamber.

A NTIOCHUS solus .

Ant. Oh! night, night, night — beautiful, matchless night!
Thy charms are all divine, far, far beyond
The gaudy glare of day; and ye, fair stars,
Soft, silent, bright, how beautiful are you,
Ye gorgeous wanderers through the pathless skies,
Conducting heaven's own light to our dim sphere,
And from your bountiful and shining urns
Raining the happy night-dews down on earth,
Till her full cup o'erflows with blessedness!

Sel. Ah, Demetrius,
Thy looks bode evil. I dare scarcely give
My heart's inquiry words. My noble boy,
How fares he?
Dem. Like a weed upon the shore,
Which only waits the next wave's visiting
To waft it hence for ever.
Sel. Righteous Gods!
If ye war not with man's best feelings; if
Ye build not up the fabric of his bliss
But as a toy to tear asunder, when
Ye lack amusement, save him, save my son!
What has he done, or I, that thus untimely

The Prince's Chamber — Antiochus discovered reclining on a Couch.

Enter S TRATONICE .

Str. Antiochus!
Ant. Ha! Is't a dream, a cruel mockery,
Shaped to deride my bosom's loneliness;
Or does Stratonice indeed stand there,
And smile on lost Antiochus? Oh! speak
One word.
Str. Antiochus!
Ant. Say on — say on. —
I know it is delusion; but 'tis sweeter

Another Chamber in the same. The Queen, the Countess of Argyll, Rizzio, and others, are discovered seated at a clarichord, on which the Queen is playing — Rizzio accompanying her on the harp, and singing the following

RONDO .

Oh! touch the ivory key again,
Thou who mak'st Orpheus' boastings vain,
And fiercer monsters charm'st to rest —
The vultures of the human breast!
Thou, whose sweet notes can lull despair,
Rouse slumbering hope, soothe anxious care,

A Chamber in the Palace.

Enter D ARNLEY and R UTHVEN .

Dar. Away — away! why will you conjure up
The horrors of the past? Though much I loved him,
I would forget him now. Alas! alas!
The rose, that withers gently on its stalk,
Smells sweetly after death, but if 'tis pluck'd
Away untimely, its rank breath offends
The shuddering sense — so are the memories
Of friends, who go down calmly to their graves,
Cherish'd within our breasts: but from the tombs