flame, thou restless fever
Burning all things, regretting none;
The winds of fate are stilled for ever—
Thy little generous life is done.
And all its wistful wonderings cease!
Thou traveller to the tideless sea,
Where light and dark, and change and peace,
Are One—Come, little soul, to mystery!
on her knees, bows her head to the ground. The
glow slowly fades till the scene is black.
Then as the blackness lifts, in the dim light of the false dawn filtering through the window of the mountain hut. Lamond and Felsman are seen standing beside Seelchen looking down at her asleep on the window seat.
Felsman. [Putting out his hand to wake her] In a moment it will be dawn.
She stirs, and her lips move, murmuring.
Lamond. Let her sleep. She’s dreaming.
a lantern, till its light falls on her face.
Then the two men move stealthily towards the door, and, as she
speaks, pass out.
Seelchen. [Rising to her knees, and stretching out her hands with ecstasy] Great One. I come! [Waking, she looks around, and struggles to her feet] My little dream!
Through the open door,
the first flush of dawn shows in the sky.
There is a sound of goat-bells passing.
The curtain falls.