145
Than I had thought our cold sea held in store,
But sure some genial influence abroad
Breathes from the deep or showers from on high,
For on the gray wall of our abbey grange
An old vine droops, tho' trebly secular
With weight of grapes beyond man's memory,
And as gold day turns silver evening
We mark, rose-flaming in a violet sky
The planet Hesper burn as bright, as clear
As wedding torch of epithalamy
Lit for this old world's spousal with a star!
(Father Bernadine and Sophron pass out left.)
(Enter Colette, Sylvie, and young men.)
Colette:
Here let us rest, one cannot dance all day!
Our farandôle is finish'd, soon the Court
Will tread their study'd stately minuet,
Pacing and pausing as the cadence falls.
