THE MUSE (appearing in an aureole of light). And I? I, the faithful friend, Whose hand wiped thy tears? By whom thy latent sorrow Exhales in heavenly dreams? Am I nothing? May the tempest Of passion pass away in thee! The man is no more; the poet revives I love thee Hoffmann! be mine! Let the ashes of thy heart fire thy genius, Whose serenity smiles on thy sorrows. The Muse will soften thy blessed sufferings. One is great by love but greater by tears. (She disappears.) HOFFMANN (alone). Oh God! what ecstasy embraces my soul, Like a concert divine Thy voice hath moved me, With soft and burning fire my being is devoured, Thy glances in mine have suffused their flame, Like radiant stars. And I feel, beloved Muse, Thy perfumed breath flutter On my lips and on my eyes! (He falls face on table.) STELLA (approaching slowly). Hoffmann? asleep... NICKLAUSSE. No, dead drunk. Too late, madame. LINDORF. Corbleu! NICKLAUSSE. Oh, here is the counselor, Lindorf, who awaits you. (Stella keeps her eyes on Hoffmann and throws a flower at his feet as she goes out with Lindorf.) THE END. NEW VERSION OF Les Contes d'Hoffmann (THE TALES OF HOFFMAN) OPERA IN FOUR ACTS With an original and novel first Act and other important changes Book by JULES BARBIER MUSIC BY J. OFFENBACH New English version by CHARLES ALFRED BYRNE As performed, for the first time in America at the MANHATTAN OPERA HOUSE, UNDER THE DIRECTION OF OSCAR HAMMERSTEIN. ENGLISH VERSION, 1907, BY STEINWAY & SONS. CHARLES E. BURDEN, PUBLISHER, STEINWAY HALL 107-109 EAST 14TH STREET NEW YORK. DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. HOFFMANN COUNSELOR LINDORF COPPELIUS DAPERTUTTO DOCTOR MIRACLE SPALANZANI CRESPEL ANDRES COCHENILLE FRANTZ LUTHER NATHANAEL HERMANN STELLA GIULIETTA OLYMPIA ANTONIA NICKLAUSSE THE MUSE A GHOST Les Contes d'Hoffmann PREMIER ACTE. LA TAVERNE DE MAITRE LUTHER CHOEUR DES ETUDIANTS. Drig! drig! drig! maître Luther, Tison d'enfer, Drig! drig! drig! à nous ta bière, A nous ton vin, Jusqu'au matin Remplis mon verre, Jusqu'au matin Remplis les pots d'étain! NATHANAEL. Luther est un brave homme; Tire lan laire! C'est demain qu'on l'assomme; Tire lan la! LE CHOEUR. Tire lan la! LUTHER (allant de table en table). Voilà, messieurs, voilà! HERMANN. Sa cave est d'un bon drille; Tire lan laire! C'est demain qu'on la pille Tire lan la! LE CHOEUR. Tire lan la! (Bruit de gobelets.) LUTHER. Voilà, messieurs, voilà! WILHELM. Sa femme est fille d' Eve; Tire lan laire: C'est demain qu'on l'enlève; Tire lan la! LE CHOEUR. Tire lan la! LUTHER. Voilà, messieurs, voilà! LE CHOEUR. Drig! drig! drig! maître Luther etc., etc. (Les étudiants s'assoient, boivent et fument dans tous les coins.) NATHANAEL.