Lamond. There is nothing. [He holds her fast] I have shown you the marvels of my town—the gay, the bitter wonders. We have known life. If with you I may no longer live, then let us die! See! Here are sweet Deaths by Slumber and by Drowning!
The mandolin twangs out, and from the dim doorway of the Inn come forth the shadowy forms. Death by slumber, and death by drowning. who to a ghostly twanging of mandolins dance slowly towards Seelchen. stand smiling at her, and as slowly dance away.
Seelchen. [Following] Yes. They are good and sweet.
While she moves towards the Inn. LAMOND’S face becomes transfigured with joy. But just as she reaches the doorway. there is a distant chiming of bells and blowing of pipes, and the Shepherd of the cow horn sings:
the wild grass come, and the dull far roar
Of the falling rock; to the flowery meads
Of thy mountain home, where the eagles soar,
And the grizzled flock in the sunshine feeds.
To the Alp, where I, in the pale light crowned
With the moon’s thin horns, to my pasture roam;
To the silent sky, and the wistful sound
Of the rosy dawns—–my daughter, come!”
While he sings, the sun has
risen; and Seelchen has turned.
with parted lips, and hands stretched out; and the forms of
death have vanished.
Seelchen. I come.
Lamond. [Clasping her knees] Little soul! Must I then die, like a gnat when the sun goes down? Without you I am nothing.
Seelchen. [Releasing herself] Poor heart—I am gone!
Lamond. It is dark. [He covers his face with his cloak].
Then as Seelchen reaches the Shepherd of the cow horn, there is blown a long note of a pipe; the scene falls back; and there rises a far, continual, mingled sound of Cowbells, and Flower Bells, and Pipes.
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.
Seelchen. 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.