The morning-star of all the flowers,
The pledge of daylight's lengthen'd hours;
Nor, 'midst the roses, e'er forget
The virgin, virgin violet.

Enter CESAR.

CESAR (singing).

The wars are all over,

Our swords are all idle, The steed bites the bridle, The casque 's on the wall. There's rest for the rover;

But his armour is rusty,

And the veteran grows crusty,

As he yawns in the hall.

He drinks-but what's drinking?

A mere pause from thinking!

No bugle awakes him with life-and-death-call.

Chorus.

But the hound bayeth loudly,

The boar's in the wood, And the falcon longs proudly To spring from her hood. On the wrist of the noble, She sits like a crest, And the air is in trouble With birds from their nest.

CESAR.

Oh! shadow of glory!

Dim image of war!
But the chase hath no story,

Her hero no star,

Since Nimrod, the founder
Of empire and chase,
Who made the woods wonder,

And quake for their race.
When the lion was young,

In the pride of his might,

Then 't was sport for the strong
To embrace him in fight;

To go forth, with a pine

For a spear, 'gainst the mammoth, Or strike through the ravine

At the foaming behemoth; While man was in stature

As towers in our time, The first-born of Nature, And, like her, sublime!

The morning-star of all the flowers,
The pledge of daylight's lengthen'd hours;
Nor, 'midst the roses, e'er forget
The virgin, virgin violet.

Enter CESAR.

CESAR (singing).

The wars are all over,
Our swords are all idle,
The steed bites the bridle,
The
's on the wall.
casque
There's rest for the rover;
But his armour is rusty,

And the veteran grows crusty,

As he yawns in the hall.

He drinks-but what's drinking?

A mere pause from thinking!

No bugle awakes him with life-and-death-call.

Chorus.

But the hound bayeth loudly,

The boar's in the wood, And the falcon longs proudly To spring from her hood. On the wrist of the noble, She sits like a crest, And the air is in trouble With birds from their nest.

CESAR.

Oh! shadow of glory!

Dim image of war!
But the chase hath no story,
Her hero no star,
Since Nimrod, the founder

Of empire and chase,
Who made the woods wonder,

And quake for their race.
When the lion was young,

In the pride of his might,
Then 't was sport for the strong
To embrace him in fight;
To go forth, with a pine

For a spear, 'gainst the mammoth,
Or strike through the ravine
At the foaming behemoth;
While man was in stature

As towers in our time, The first-born of Nature, And, like her, sublime!

Chorus.

But the wars are over,
The spring is come;
The bride and her lover

Have sought their home;

They are happy and we rejoice;

Let their hearts have an echo in every

[Exeunt the