PASTORAL SYMPHONY.

SEMI-CHORUS OF SEA NYMPHS.

We hear, we hear,
From the vasty deep,

In pearly cells.

Where sea nymphs sleep;

There, in coral caves

Entombed below,

Rests the magic book

Of Prospero.
List! softly list!

In the calm blue sky,

Float celestial notes

Of Harmony.

CHORUS OF AIR SPIRITS.

We, the spirits of the mountains,
Dwellers in the crystal fountains,
Nymphs of grottos, lakes and flowers,
Genii of the sun-lit bowers;

Join with thee through realms above,
In lays of rapture-songs of love.

RECITATIVE.

Prosp.

Ariel! gentle Ariel!" delicate spirit"-where

Wing'st thou thy radiant flight-" Child of thin Air ;"-
Within the darted lightning's vivid gleam-

Or sail'st in the pale moonlight's silv'ry beam-
Else close embosom'd 'mid some flow'rets' bloom,

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-
Approach! be visible. The dewy morn

Sheds pure ambrosial gales. Hark! the shrill horn
Proclaims the woodland chace. The dappled deer
Bounds o'er the thicket. Ariel, now appear!
Divinest Shakspeare claims thy sweetest lays,
In dulcet music choir his endless praise.

Ariel.-Master! beloved!-I feel the mystic power-
Hymn all ye Muses to his natal hour,

DUETT.

Prosp.-Haste! Ariel, haste! the bright-eyed day

Shines laughing on each vernal spray.

Swift, hie thee to those sapphire isles,
Where cupids lurk 'neath beauty's smiles.

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,
To deck the tomb of him we love.

Ariel.-Master! I know-with speed I go
To fly to fly-thro' the azure sky.
It is for Avon's gentle swain,

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,
And the rose on the fair cheek of beauty shall glow-
Hail to thee, mighty master, the harp, flute, and lyre
Shall sound forth thy triumph with seraphic fire→→→
Enraptur'd the gods on thy magic strains hung,

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-
While the lily's pale hue will enhance the sad tear,
All trembling with grief o'er the mad-stricken Lear:
For thy light, glorious SHAKSPEARE, resplendent shall shine,
A star through all ages-Immortal-Divine.

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.