There they glide thro’ whispering reeds and rushes, Hid by shadows of the trees and bushes, While their hearts with throbbing pulses beat; For ’tis there they bliss or woe shall meet. List!—Sounds from fluted reed And from cymbals ring! Look!—Dance on flowery mead, Where light wing-feet spring! Naiads sing and frolic there, Mirth and song sound everywhere; While a Pan thro’ branches spies, And his amorous glances plies. Soprano Solo A long, shrill tone from Queen Titanfa’s horn Made Silence drop her pall upon the lea; The lovers strive, by sad forebodings torn, To solve the riddle, what their fate shall be. Chorus Round the boat the waves are swelling, Pushing, drawing' and repelling; Suddenly, now here, now there, Rise fair Nymphs with golden hair. By their Syren voices swelling They entice the lovers, telling Of their home beneath the waves, In their crystal azure caves. Soprano Solo Alas! Despairing, with a leap, a cry, Both lovers sink deep in the flood below; On earth bloomed not for them one flower of Hope, So Fate decreed to end their earthly woe! Chorus On the morning’s rosy-colored billows Fell Compassion’s tears from weeping willows, While young lovers, ’neath the morning star, Seek their bliss on yonder isle afar. —Ernst Held.
