CHORUS OF EVIL SPIRITS. Rise! rise, spectres and phantoms! Hover near him! Head them and lead them on, thou, the yesterday-buried idol, the shadow of the dead love of the Poet! Bathe thyself anew in the vapors of the ideal realm; wreathe thy mouldering brow with the fair buds of spring; and float on before him, thou, once the beloved of the Poet! Rise, Glory, rise! Old eagle, well stuffed and preserved in hell, descend from thy crumbling perch, unfold thy gigantic wings whitened in the rays of the sun, and wave them above the head, until they dazzle the eyes of the Poet! Come forth from our vaults, thou rotting masterpiece from the pencil of Beelzebub, thou glowing picture of an earthly Eden, which has dizzied the brain of so many philosophers! Get the old rents in thy canvas reglued; the holes and cracks refilled with varnish; wrap thyself in the magic webs of hazy clouds and glittering mists; fly to the Poet, and unroll thyself ever before him! And thou, Nature! surround him with mountains, cliffs, and seas; lull him with golden dawns and crimson eves; inweave him in thy magic circle of azure days and starry nights; O mother Nature--closely embrace the Poet! * * * * * A village. A church. The Guardian Angel is seen floating and swaying to and fro upon it. GUARDIAN ANGEL. If thou keepest the Holy Vow, thou wilt be my brother forever before the face of our Heavenly Father! Vanishes. The interior of the church. Wax lights blaze upon the altar--many witnesses are standing round it. A Priest is reading the marriage service. THE PRIEST. Remember, you have sworn to be true and faithful until death! The Bride and Groom rise--he presses the hand of the Bride, and conducts her to one of the relatives. All depart except the Groom; he remains alone in the church. BRIDEGROOM. I have descended to an earthly betrothal, I have found her of whom my spirit dreamed. Curses be upon my head if I ever cease to love her! * * * * * A saloon filled with people. Music, dancing, lights, flowers; the Bride dances--after a few rounds she remains standing--meets the Groom, draws apart from the crowd, and leans her head upon his breast. BRIDEGROOM. How beautiful thou art, my love, in thy exhaustion, with flowers and pearls falling in soft confusion through the masses of thy wavy hair, glowing with the rapid motion of the dance, and blushing with maiden shame! Oh, forever and ever thou shalt be my living Poem! BRIDE. I will be to thee a true wife, as my mother taught me, as my own heart teaches me. But there are so many men here--there is so much noise--and it is so hot-- BRIDEGROOM. Go and join once more the dance. I will stand here, and watch thee as thou floatest on, as I have often gazed in dreams upon the circling angels. BRIDE. I will go, since it is thy wish--but I am very weary. BRIDEGROOM. I pray thee, love, go.