The scene is slowly illumined as by dawn. SEELCHEN is still
lying on the window seat. She sits up, freeing her face and
hands from the blankets, changing the swathings of deep sleep
for the filmy coverings of a dream. The wall of the hut has
vanished; there is nothing between her and the three mountains
veiled in mist, save a through of darkness. There, as the peaks
of the mountains brighten, they are seen to have great faces.
The face of THE WINE HORN is the profile of a beardless youth.
The face of THE COW HORN is that of a mountain shepherd.
solemn, and broom, with fierce black eyes, and a black beard.
Between them THE GREAT HORN, whose hair is of snow, has a high.
beardless visage, as of carved bronze, like a male sphinx,
serene, without cruelty. Far down below the faces of the peaks.
above the trough of darkness, are peeping out the four little
heads of the flowers of EDELWEISS, and GENTIAN, MOUNTAIN
DANDELION, and ALPENROSE; on their heads are crowns made of
their several flowers, all powdered with dewdrops; and when THE
FLOWERS lift their child-faces little tinkling bells ring.
All around the peaks there is nothing but blue sky.
EDELWEISS [In a tiny voice] Would you? Would you? Would you?
Ah! ha!
GENTIAN, M. DANDELION, ALPENROSE [With their bells ranging
enviously] Oo-oo-oo!
From behind the Cow HORN are heard the voices of COWBELLS
and MOUNTAIN AIR:
And suddenly the Peak of THE COW HORN speaks in a voice as
of one unaccustomed.
THE COW HORN
Amongst kine and my black-brown sheep I Live; I am
silence, and monotony; I am the solemn hills. I am fierceness, and
the mountain wind; clean pasture, and wild rest. Look in my eyes.
love me alone!
SEELCHEN [Breathless] The Cow Horn! He is speaking for Felsman
and the mountains. It is the half of my heart!
THE COW HORN
I stalk the eternal hills--I drink the mountain snows.
My eyes are the colour of burned wine; in them lives melancholy. The
lowing of the kine, the wind, the sound of falling rocks, the running
of the torrents; no other talk know I. Thoughts simple, and blood
hot, strength huge--the cloak of gravity.
And suddenly the Peak of THE WINE HORN speaks in a youth's
voice.
THE WINE HORN
I am the will o' the wisp that dances thro' the
streets; I am the cooing dove of Towns, from the plane trees and the
chestnuts' shade. From day to day all changes, where I burn my
incense to my thousand little gods. In white palaces I dwell, and
passionate dark alleys. The life of men in crowds is mine--of
lamplight in the streets at dawn. [Softly] I have a thousand loves.
and never one too long; for I am nimbler than your heifers playing in
the sunshine.
THE WINE HORN
I hear the rustlings of the birth and death of
pleasure; and the rattling of swift wheels. I hear the hungry oaths
of men; and love kisses in the airless night. Without me, little
soul, you starve and die,
SEELCHEN
He is speaking for the gentle Sir, and the big world of
the Town. It pulls my heart.
THE WINE HORN
My thoughts surpass in number the flowers in your
meadows; they fly more swiftly than your eagles on the wind. I drink
the wine of aspiration, and the drug of disillusion. Thus am I never
dull!
The voices of VIEW OF ITALY, FLUME OF STEAM, and THINGS IN
BOOKS are heard calling out together:
THE COW HORN
Mine are the clouds with the dark silvered wings; mine
are the rocks on fire with the sun; and the dewdrops cooler than
pearls. Away from my breath of snow and sweet grass, thou wilt droop,
little soul.
THE GREAT HORN
And both thou shalt love, little soul! Thou shalt
lie on the hills with Silence; and dance in the cities with
Knowledge. Both shall possess thee! The sun and the moon on the
mountains shall burn thee; the lamps of the town singe thy wings.
small Moth! Each shall seem all the world to thee, each shall seem
as thy grave! Thy heart is a feather blown from one mouth to the
other. But be not afraid! For the life of a man is for all loves in
turn. 'Tis a little raft moored, then sailing out into the blue; a
tune caught in a hush, then whispering on; a new-born babe, half
courage and half sleep. There is a hidden rhythm. Change.
Quietude. Chance. Certainty. The One. The Many. Burn on--thou
pretty flame, trying to eat the world! Thou shaft come to me at
last, my little soul!
