_Drowsa._ Oh, I've a task, fair queen, will love secure. Last night I visited with visions pure A weary mother, who, for many a day, Watched o'er the cradle where her dear babe lay Wasting with fever, till the unseen Hand Took it in kindness to a better land. Long has she mourned its loss, with wakeful eyes, Fast-falling tears, low, sad, and bitter cries. Last night she slept; and then, in vision's charms, I crept, and laid her babe within her arms. Content she rested, with a smile so sweet, I go to-night this comfort to repeat. _Q. Mab._ Your zeal, industrious spirits, we applaud: Your chosen missions meet with full accord; Yet for this night we have a task so grand, Your queen would all your energies command. _Somna._ We wait your pleasure, _Oblivia._ All our arts employ; _Drowsa._ Set us what tasks you will, _Sootha._ We'll serve with joy. _Q. Mab._ Thanks, sisters! To our confidence draw near, And list our secret with attentive ear. Freedom's fair goddess, Gloria, in doubt, Her fair Republic, restless roams about, Seeking a talisman to life prolong, And make her youthful charge wax brave and strong. Close at her side Rubina, crafty maid, Whose fire-lit eyes gloat over war's dread trade, Plies her bold speech, unchecked by fear of frown, Counselling deeds of conquest and renown; While calm Serena, long to Peace allied, Whose gentle influence stretches far and wide, Recounts the glories of a land at rest, With sterling Industry's rich harvests blest. Wavering betwixt the gentle and the bold, By turns rebellious, and by turns controlled, Poor Gloria wanders long, in dire distress Which counsellor to choose her realm to bless. Old custom gives to us prophetic power To guide by vision in the trying hour. And so to-night, o'er Gloria's doubting heart, Fair sister spirits, we will ply our art, Lure her to Dreamland, and in phantom light Illume her path, and guide her to the right. Stand close! she comes! the light winds bear along The martial burden of her triumph song. [_Retire, and form behind bank._ _Chorus; air, "Love of Country."_ Blest is the land where Freedom rears, 'Neath heaven's blue, arching dome, For labor's sons of every clime, Her proud and happy home. Beyond the reach of tyrant rule, Free are the hands we raise: Onward we move, with joyous song Of thankfulness and praise. Blest is the land, &c. (_Enter_ L., GLORIA, _attended by_ RUBINA _and_ SERENA, _followed by_ ATTENDANTS.)