The Martyr of Antioch


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SCENE III: THE PALACE OF THE PREFECT

No. 9: CHORUS
(Evening Song of the Maidens)

MIDI File [4' 27"; 39KB]

Maidens:
Come away with willing feet,
Quit the close and breathless street:
Sultry court and chamber leave,
Come and taste the balmy eve,
Where the grass is cool and green,
And the verdant laurels screen
All whose timid footsteps move
With quickening stealth of love.
Where Orontes' waters hold
Mirrors to your locks of gold,
And the sacred Daphne weaves
Canopies of trembling leaves,
And the sacred Daphne weaves
Canopies of trembling leaves.
Come away with willing feet,
Quit the close and breathless street:

Sopranos: Contraltos:
Come awayCome away with willing feet,
with willing feet,with willing feet,
Quit the closeQuit the close and breathless street,
and breathless streetand breathless street
Come and taste the balmy eve.Come and taste the balmy eve.

All:
Come away, the heavens above
Just have light enough for love,
And the crystal Hesperus
Lights his dew-fed lamp above.
Come the wider shades are falling,
And the amorous birds are calling
Each his wandering mate to rest,
In the close and downy nest.
And the snowy orange flowers,
And the creeping jasmine flowers,
From their swinging censers cast
Their richest odours and their last.
Come away, come away.

Come, the busy day is o'er,
Flying spindle gleams no more,
Wait not till the twilight gloom
Darken o'er th'embroidered loom,
Leave the toilsome task undone,
Leave the golden web unspun,
Hark! along the humming air,
Home the laden bees repair,
And the bright and dashing rill
From the side of every hill,
With a clearer, deeper sound,
Cools the freshening air around:
And a clearer, deeper sound,
Cools the freshening air around.
Come away with willing feet,
Quit the close and breathless street, come,

Sopranos: Contraltos:
Come awayCome away with willing feet,
with willing feet,with willing feet,
Quit the closeQuit the close and breathless street,
and breathless streetand breathless street
Come and taste the balmy eve.Come and taste the balmy eve.


No. 10: RECIT. & AIR (Olybius)

MIDI FILE [3' 16"; 12KB]

Olybius:
Sweet Margarita, give me thine hand for once,
Oh, snowy treasure!
That shall be mine, thus fondly clasped for ever.

See what Olybius' love prepares for thee,
A palace tuneful with Assyrian choir,
The wealth of Indian looms beyond the sea,
And all the slaved breezes waft to Tyre.
When sated with the purple of parade,
In summer gardens thou shalt pass thy day,
In summer gardens,
In summer gardens thou shalt pass thy day,
On sunny lawns or in secluded shade,
Where silver dashing fountains idly play.

A throne whereon the Asiarch holds his state,
Thou shalt then rule our army and our fleet;
While subject Prince and vassal Potentate
Pour forth their lavish homage at thy feet;
By all the world of Orient Kings adored,
Proud panoplies obedient at thy side,
Proud panoplies obedient to thy call;

Thou fairer for the lustre of thy lord,
Thy lord more glorious for his lovely bride.
Thou fairer for the lustre of thy lord,
Thy lord more glorious for his lovely bride.

No. 11: DUET (Margarita & Olybius)

MIDI FILE [3' 42"; 9KB]

Margarita:
Oh, hear me, Olybius,
I know thy spirit pants for glory;
There is a thirst within thine utmost soul
Which triumphs cannot satiate, nor the sway of earth;
I'll tell thee how to win a record
That shall be registered by flaming hands
In the adamantine heavens.

Olybius
Olybius:
But canst thou win me an immortality of thee?

Margarita:
I can!

Olybius:
Name then the price, be it the forfeit life
Of the most hardy in yon Christian crew, 'tis given.

Margarita:
I ask thine own eternal soul,
Believe in Jesus Christ, and I am thine!
For I would quit my cloudless course on high
To wander in the darkling world with thee,
Learn thou this faith and then thy bride
Will bring to thee another dowry than her poor beauty.

Olybius:
Curse upon this faith that thus hath wrung
The love from thy pure soul,
Curse upon thy

Margarita:
Ha! thou shalt not curse the Saviour!
So now farewell for ever, proud Olybius!
Though my voice fail, I'll weep a last farewell.

Olybius:
Now whither goest thou?

Margarita:
To my prison, Sir.


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