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THE FOURTH OF AUGUST
Far across to fayland,Far across to fayland,Far across to faylandThe sunset shadows creep.
All in one great shadow,All in one great shadow,All in one great shadowThe midnight shadows sleep.

[As they sing Aurora passes on and disappears.]

[Enter a Mortal Youth, delicately dressed; he stretches himself on a green bank languidly, and muses.]
How I love life! how fair and full it glidesIn this dear land, where age-long peace abides!This land of Nature's finest fashioning,Where every month brings forth some lovely thing:Where Spring goes like her streams, from March to June,Dancing and glittering to the breeze's tune;And Summer, like the rose in sunset skies,From splendour into splendour softly dies;Where Autumn, while she sings her harvest home,Deep in her bosom hides the birth to come,And Winter dreams, when the long nights are cold,A dream of snowdrops and the bleating fold.Ah! how I love it!-most of all the yearThis perfect month when Summer's end is near.For now July has set, and August dawns,A stillness broods upon the yellowing lawns,
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