PASTORAL SYMPHONY. SEMI-CHORUS OF SEA NYMPHS. We hear, we hear, In pearly cells. Where sea nymphs sleep; There, in coral caves Entombed below, Rests the magic book Of Prospero. In the calm blue sky, Float celestial notes Of Harmony. CHORUS OF AIR SPIRITS. We, the spirits of the mountains, Join with thee through realms above, RECITATIVE. Prosp. Ariel! gentle Ariel!" delicate spirit"-where Wing'st thou thy radiant flight-" Child of thin Air ;"- Or sail'st in the pale moonlight's silv'ry beam- In wafted odours, sighing soft perfume? Ariel. I hear his well known voice, with joy I see That Angel smile-so lov'd, so dear to me. Master! I come-oh, transport !—extacy! Prosp.-Hither, dear Ariel, ere the orient Sun In golden splendour his bright course has run- Sheds pure ambrosial gales. Hark! the shrill horn Ariel.-Master! beloved!-I feel the mystic power- DUETT. Prosp.-Haste! Ariel, haste! the bright-eyed day Shines laughing on each vernal spray. Swift, hie thee to those sapphire isles, Ariel.-Master! I with joy obeying, On dancing sun-beams zephyrs playing. Behold! I fly. Prosp.-From yon glitt'ring sylvan grove, Oh! bring a wreath by young Sylphs wove, Ariel.-Master! I know-with speed I go Sweet breath'd his own mellifluous strain, Both Soft as bright star-beams on clear streamlets playingBeautiful as mild blue eyes of nymphs o'er daisies straying— Pure as the chrystal rills that gush from limpid fountainsAnd musical as tuneful birds that warble from the mountains. QUINTETTE. All hail! to thee, Bard, while calm Avon shall flow, As the music of heaven distill'd from thy tongue. On thy grave, "fair Ophelia," each love-beaming eye Must drop its dear pearl, and enamoured shall sigh- GRAND FINALE. Hail to great SHAKSPEARE's magic strain, "We ne'er shall look upon his like again." SONG. HORN. Mr. Machin. The sun is on the mountain, His beam lies on the sea; And far and near is echoed loud, The skylark's melody. The hind plods o'er the dewy field, And hails the rising ray, As he feels, while he steals, The breaking of the day. The East with gold is shining, And fleetly o'er the lawn The stag flies on, and bugles sound Fierce welcome in the dawn. The quivering beams, through every bough, In sunny radiance play; On each tree, all can see, The rising of the day. The Sun, &c. &c. By countless dogs surrounded, The brave stag yields his breath, And man and horse with ardour strive, To be in at the death. To see the last of him they sprang, When rose the golden ray, Whose fleet feet no more can greet, The breaking of the day. The Sun, &c. &c. |