Mabiel, she's passing now.

Goddess of the sparkling brow,

Rosy lip, and springing bosom,

Please thee with all whitest blossom,
Warmest bud and coolest green,
To enrich this destined scene,
Where to-day our Lady great,

Liberty's to hold her state.

(A short flourish of flutes :—the voice of Spring is heard.)

Spring. Spirit, I have heard it all,

And shall add my service small

To content thy queen victorious,
Though herself is all that's glorious.

But I play not the bestower;

'Tis a gladsome task I owe her; For without her what were I?

She it is that makes my sky

Happy to the eye that sweeps it,

And my bow'r to him that keeps it,

And my

air to him that takes it,

And my verse to him that makes it.

Doubly therefore, as I go,

Breathe I on the buds below

Warmth to set the prisoners free,
Peeping red from flow'r and tree;
And I shall have parted hence
Scarce a moment, ere thy sense
Fill with odours, rich and soft,
Which their young lips vent aloft.
Thank me not; I must be going
Now, my Joys, your music blowing,
Set the breeze, that wafts me, flowing..

Soft pipes going off to the gentle bowing of the trees, whose blossoms in the mean while spread forth. Spring and her train are seen to float over at a little distance.

Mab. Ha! you have petition'd well,

Frank and fine-voic'd Phaniel!

All around me start, and spread,

Bowering blossoms, white and red,
Some in frills and curious frets,

And some in cups and coronets,

While the bees, about their treasure,

Hum and pitch with tipsy pleasure,

And the coying butterflies,

Drest in all their summer dyes,

Flutter up from every part,

Tickled, as it were, at heart.

Never shot so bright a blush!
Then the panting leaves are flush
With the freshest rainy green,

And an amber light between ;
And the turf lies thick and glowing,

Just as from a gentle mowing,

Asking a fair foot to press

On it's springy mossiness.

Never look'd the bay so fit

To surmount two eyes of wit,

Nor the myrtle to be seen

Two white-kerchief'd breasts between,

Nor the oak to crown a sword

For a nation's rights restored.

Then the flowers on all their bedsHow the sparklers glance their heads! Daisies with their pinky lashes,

And the marigold's broad flashes,
Hyacinth with sapphire bell

Curling backward, and the swell
Of the rose, full-lipp'd and warm,
Round about whose riper form
Her slender virgin-train are seen
In their close-fit caps of green:
Lilacs then, and daffadillies

And the nice-leav'd lesser lillies,
Shading, like detected light,

Their little green-tipt lamps of white;
Blissful poppy, odorous pea,

With it's wings up lightsomely;
Balsam with his shaft of amber,
Mignonette for lady's chamber,
And genteel geranium,

With a leaf for all that come;
And the tulip, trick'd out finest,

And the pink, of smell divinest;

And as proud as all of them

Bound in one, the garden's gem,
Heartsease, like a gallant bold,
In his cloth of purple and gold.—
But why stay I chattering here
To a more instructed ear?

Feet approach, my task is done,
I must glance me through the sun.
Phaniel, if your cloud holds two,
I'll come up, and sit with you?

Phan. Come along, and share my view.

Mabiel flies up across the scene, whisking his coloured wings in the sunshine.