The Scene

My journey's end! This surely is the gladeWhich I was promised: I have well obeyed!A clue of lilies was I bid to find,Where the green alleys most obscurely wind;Where tall oaks darkliest canopy o'erhead,And moss and violet make the softest bed;Where the path ends, and leagues behind me lieThe gleaming courts and gardens of Versailles;The lilies streamed before me, green and white;I gathered, following; they led me right,To the bright temple and the sacred grove:This is, in truth, the very shrine of Love!

It is so solitary, I grow afraid.Is there no priest here, no devoted maid?Is there no oracle, no voice to speak,Interpreting to me the word I seek?

Too soon! too soon! in that enchanting strain,Days yet unlived, I almost lived again:It almost taught me that I most would know--Why am I here, and why am I Pierrot?

Why came I here, and why am I Pierrot?That music and this silence both affright;Pierrot can never be a friend of night.I never felt my solitude before--Once safe at home, I will return no more.Yet the commandment of the scroll was plain;While the light lingers let me read again.

"He loves to-night who never loved before;Who ever loved, to-night shall love once more."I never loved! I know not what love is.I am so ignorant--but what is this?"Who would adventure to encounter LoveMust rest one night within this hallowed grove.Cast down thy lilies, which have led thee on,Before the tender feet of Cupidon."Thus much is done, the night remains to me.Well, Cupidon, be my security!Here is more writing, but too faint to read.

Hence, vain old parchment. I have learnt thy rede!

Courage, mon Ami! I shall never missSociety with such a friend as this.How merrily the rosy bubbles pass,Across the amber crystal of the glass.I had forgotten you. Methinks this questCan wake no sweeter echo in my breast.

Nay, little god! forgive. I did but jest.

This libation, Cupid, take,With the lilies at thy feet;Cherish Pierrot for their sake:Send him visions strange and sweet,While he slumbers at thy feet.Only love kiss him awake!Only love kiss him awake!

Music, more music, far away and faint:It is an echo of mine heart's complaint.Why should I be so musical and sad?I wonder why I used to be so glad?In single glee I chased blue butterflies,Half butterfly myself, but not so wise,For they were twain, and I was only one.Ah me! how pitiful to be alone.My brown birds told me much, but in mine earThey never whispered this--I learned it here:The soft wood sounds, the rustlings in the breeze,Are but the stealthy kisses of the trees.Each flower and fern in this enchanted woodLeans to her fellow, and is understood;The eglantine, in loftier station set,Stoops down to woo the maidly violet.In gracile pairs the very lilies grow:None is companionless except Pierrot.Music, more music! how its echoes stealUpon my senses with unlooked for weal.Tired am I, tired, and far from this lone gladeSeems mine old joy in rout and masquerade.Sleep cometh over me, now will I prove,By Cupid's grace, what is this thing called love.

Who is this mortalWho ventures to-nightTo woo an immortal?Cold, cold the moon's lightFor sleep at this portal,Bold lover of night.

Fair is the mortalIn soft, silken white,Who seeks an immortal.Ah, lover of night,Be warned at the portal,And save thee in flight!

Forget not, Cupid. Teach me all thy lore:"He loves to-night who never loved before."

Unwitting boy! when, be it soon or late,What Pierrot ever has escaped his fate?What if I warned him! He might yet evade,Through the long windings of this verdant glade;Seek his companions in the blither way,Which, else, must be as lost as yesterday.So might he still pass some unheeding hoursIn the sweet company of birds and flowers.How fair he is, with red lips formed for joy,As softly curved as those of Venus' boy.Methinks his eyes, beneath their silver sheaves,Rest tranquilly like lilies under leaves.Arrayed in innocence, what touch of graceReveals the scion of a courtly race?Well, I will warn him, though, I fear, too late--What Pierrot ever has escaped his fate?But, see, he stirs, new knowledge fires his brain,And Cupid's vision bids him wake again.Dione's Daughter! but how fair he is,Would it be wrong to rouse him with a kiss?

Celestial messenger! remain, remain;Or, if a Vision, visit me again!What is this light, and whither am I comeTo sleep beneath the stars so far from home?

Stay, I remember this is Venus' Grove,And I am hither come to encounter--