Who is this mortal Who ventures to-night To woo an immortal? Cold, cold the moon's light, For sleep at this portal, Bold lover of night. Fair is the mortal In soft, silken white, Who seeks an immortal. Ah, lover of night, Be warned at the portal, And save thee in flight!

[_She stoops over him; Pierrot stirs in his sleep._]

Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays — Part 141

Forget not, Cupid. Teach me all thy lore: "_He loves to-night who never loved before._"

Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays — Part 141

Unwitting boy! when, be it soon or late, What Pierrot ever has escaped his fate? What if I warned him! He might yet evade, Through the long windings of this verdant glade; Seek his companions in the blither way, Which, else, must be as lost as yesterday. So might he still pass some unheeding hours In the sweet company of birds and flowers. How fair he is, with red lips formed for joy, As softly curved as those of Venus' boy. Methinks his eyes, beneath their silver sheaves, Rest tranquilly like lilies under leaves. Arrayed in innocence, what touch of grace Reveals the scion of a courtly race? Well, I will warn him, though, I fear, too late-- What Pierrot ever has escaped his fate? But, see, he stirs, new knowledge fires his brain, And cupid's vision bids him wake again. Dione's Daughter! but how fair he is, Would it be wrong to rouse him with a kiss?

Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays — Part 141

[_She stoops down and kisses him, then withdraws into the shadow._]

Celestial messenger! remain, remain; Or, if a vision, visit me again! What is this light, and whither am I come To sleep beneath the stars so far from home?

Stay, I remember this is Venus' Grove, And I am hither come to encounter--

PIERROT [_in ecstasy, throwing himself at her feet_].

Then have I ventured and encountered Love?

Not yet, rash boy! and, if thou wouldst be wise, Return unknowing; he is safe who flies.

Never, sweet lady, will I leave this place Until I see the wonder of thy face. Goddess or Naiad! lady of this Grove, Made mortal for a night to teach me love, Unveil thyself, although thy beauty be Too luminous for my mortality.

Then, foolish boy, receive at length thy will: Now knowest thou the greatness of thine ill.

Now have I lost my heart, and gained my goal.

Didst thou not read the warning on the scroll?

I read it all, as on this quest I fared, Save where it was illegible and hard.