[_The last fairy vanishes thro' the gates._] OBERON And we must follow, for the gates may close For ever now. Hundreds of years may pass Before another mortal gives his life To help the poor and needy. [_OBERON and TITANIA follow hand in hand thro' the gates. They begin to close. SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF steals wistfully and hesitatingly across, as if to enter. They close in his face. He goes up to them and leans against them sobbing, a small green figure, looking like a greenwood spray against their soft ivory glow. The fairy music dies. He sinks to his knees and holds up his hands. Immediately a voice is heard singing and drawing nearer thro' the forest._] [_Song--drawing nearer._] Knight on the narrow way, Where wouldst thou ride? "Onward," I heard him say, "Love, to thy side!" "Nay," sang a bird above, "Stay, for I see Death in the mask of love Waiting for thee." [_Enter BLONDEL, leading a great white steed. He stops and looks at the kneeling figure._] BLONDEL Shadow-of-a-Leaf! SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF [_Rising to his feet._] Blondel! BLONDEL I go to seek My King! SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF [_In passionate grief._] The King is dead! BLONDEL [_In yet more passionate joy and triumph._] The great King lives! [_Then more tenderly._] Will you not come and look for Him with me? [_They go slowly together through the forest and are lost to sight. BLONDEL'S voice is heard singing the third stanza of the song in the distance, further and further away._] "Death? What is Death?" he cried. "I must ride on!" [_Curtain._] TALES OF THE MERMAID TAVERN I A KNIGHT OF THE OCEAN-SEA Under that foggy sunset London glowed, Like one huge cob-webbed flagon of old wine. And, as I walked down Fleet Street, the soft sky Mowed thro' the roaring thoroughfares, transfused Their hard sharp outlines, blurred the throngs of black On either pavement, blurred the rolling stream Of red and yellow busses, till the town Turned to a golden suburb of the clouds. And, round that mighty bubble of St. Paul's, Over the up-turned faces of the street, An air-ship slowly sailed, with whirring fans, A voyager in the new-found realms of gold, A shadowy silken chrysalis whence should break What radiant wings in centuries to be.