Men and Women (dressed as Moors).
FIRST MOORISH WOMAN.
When blooms the spring of life,
The golden harvest reap.
Waste not your years in bootless strife,
Till age upon your bodies creep.
But now, when shines the kindly light,
Give up your soul to love's delight.
No touch of sweetest joy
This longing heart can know,
No bliss without alloy
When love does silent show.
Then up, ye lads and la**es gay!
The spring of life is fair;
Cloud not these hours with care,
For love must win the day.
Beauty fades,
Years roll by,
Lowering shades
Obscure the sky.
And joys so sweet of yore
Shall charm us then no more.
Then up, ye lads and la**es gay!
The spring of life is fair;
Cloud not these hours with care,
For love must win the day.
First Entry of the Ballet.
2ND MOORISH WOMAN.
They bid us love, they bid us woo,
Why seek delay?
To tender sighs and kisses too
In youth's fair day,
Our hearts are but too true.
The sweetest charms has Cupid's spell.
No sooner felt, the ready heart
His conquered self would yield him well
Ere yet the god had winged his dart.
But yet the tale we often hear
Of tears and sorrows keen,
To share in them, I ween,
Though sweet, would make us fear!
3RD MOORISH WOMAN.
To love a lover true,
In youth's kind day, I trow,
Is pleasant task enow;
But think how we must rue
If he inconstant show!
4TH MOORISH WOMAN.
The loss of lover false to me
But trifling grief would be,
Yet this is far the keenest smart
That he had stol'n away our heart.
2ND MOORISH WOMAN.
What then shall we do
Whose hearts are so young?
4TH MOORISH WOMAN.
Though cruel his laws,
Attended by woes,
Away with your arms,
Submit to his charms!
TOGETHER.
His whims ye must follow,
His transports though fleet,
His pinings too sweet
Though often comes sorrow,
The thousand delights
The wounds of his darts
Still charm all the hearts.