With better chance. Meantime I must lie down,
And rest awhile. The sun will soon have set.—
[Sits down, and gradually becomes drowsy.
How soft the breeze steals thro' yon alderbrake,
Waving the slender blossoms to and fro!
A gentle shiver creeps o’er all my limbs,
Sleep presses on my weary eyelids. Ha!
How gloriously . . . the sun . . . sets . . .
Enter Puck—an Elf, from the Wood.
PUCK.
Yonder the day declines—trailing behind
His gold and purple robes. Those stately pines
Have caught the reflex on their slender tops
Which tremble to the breeze. Twilight descends.
The Glow-worm now lights up her em'rald lamp;
Bright crystal dews fill every flow'ret's cup;
The wan moon's disk assumes a golden hue;
The Cricket's chirp sounds from the stubble-field;
