The scene slowly brightens with the misty flush of dawn.
SEELCHEN stands on a green alp, with all around, nothing but
blue sky. A slip of a crescent moon is lying on her back. On a
low rock sits a brown faced GOATHERD blowing on a pipe, and the
four Flower-children are dancing in their shifts of grey white.
and blue, rose-pink, and burnt-gold. Their bells are ringing.
as they pelt each other with flowers of their own colours; and
each in turn, wheeling, flings one flower at SEELCHEN, who puts
them to her lips and eyes.
The dew! [She moves towards the rock] Goatherd!
But THE FLOWERS encircle him; and when they wheel away he has
vanished. She turns to THE FLOWERS, but they too vanish. The
veils of mist are rising.
Gone! [She rubs her eyes; then turning once more to the
rock, sees FELSMAN standing there, with his arms folded] Thou!
So thou hast come--like a sick heifer to be healed. Was it
good in the Town--that kept thee so long?
THE GOATHERD is seen again sitting upright on his rock and
piping. And there come four little brown, wild-eyed, naked
Boys, with Goat's legs and feet, who dance gravely in and out of
The Sleeping Flowers; and THE FLOWERS wake, spring up, and fly.
Till each Goat, catching his flower has vanished, and THE
GOATHERD has ceased to pipe, and lies motionless again on his
Aye. I have no silver tongue. Listen! This is my voice.
[Sweeping his arm round all the still alp] It is quiet. From dawn
to the first star all is fast. [Laying his hand on her heart] And
the wings of the birds shall be still.
SEELCHEN [Touching his eyes] Thine eyes are fierce. In them I see
the wild beasts crouching. In them I see the distance. Are they
SEELCHEN [Touching his hands] Thy hands are rough to pluck
flowers. [She breaks away from him to the rock where THE GOATHERD is
lying] See! Nothing moves! The very day stands still. Boy! [But
THE GOATHERD neither stirs nor answers] He is lost in the blue.
[Passionately] Boy! He will not answer me. No one will answer me
Smiling, she holds out her arms to FELSMAN. He takes her
swaying form. They vanish, encircled by the forms of SLEEP. It
is dark, save for the light of the thin horned moon suddenly
grown bright. Then on his rock, to a faint gaping THE GOATHERD
"My goat, my little speckled one.
My yellow-eyed, sweet-smelling.
Let moon and wind and golden sun
And stars beyond all telling
Make, every day, a sweeter grass.
And multiply thy leaping!
And may the mountain foxes pass
And never scent thee sleeping!
Oh! Let my pipe be clear and far.
And let me find sweet water!
No hawk nor udder-seeking jar
Come near thee, little daughter!
May fiery rocks defend, at noon,
Thy tender feet from slipping!
Oh! hear my prayer beneath the moon--
Great Master, Goat-God--skipping!"
There passes in the thin moonlight the Goat-Good Pan; and with a
long wail of the pipe THE GOATHERD BOY is silent. Then the moon
fades, and all is black; till, in the faint grisly light of the
false dawn creeping up, SEELCHEN is seen rising from the side of
the sleeping FELSMAN. THE GOATHERD BOY has gone; but by the
rock stands the Shepherd of THE COW HORN in his dock.
Years, years I have slept. My spirit is hungry. [Then as
she sees the Shepherd of THE COW HORN standing there] I know thee
now--Life of the earth--the smell of thee, the sight of thee, the
taste of thee, and all thy music. I have passed thee and gone by.
[She moves away]