_Oceana._ Know me, fair maid, as guardian of the sea, The wealth of waters stretching far and free, Deep basined in the world; in peace as mild, As bright and beauteous, as a sportive child; Dancing in sunlight up and down the sand; Leaping, with white-capped waves, the rocky strand; Creeping to shady nooks on pebbly bed; Sleeping in moonlight 'neath a silvery spread. Over her rolling roads, in strength and pride, The floating treasure-chests of nations glide; In emerald pastures deep beneath her crest, The fin-clad wanderers from their gambols rest. At mankind's call she hastes to do her part, And from her herds bestows with generous heart. Far, far below, fair cities rear their walls With jewelled keeps, and coral-caverned halls. Come to my realms, fair maid, and float with me Upon the bosom of the swelling sea. Hark to the song of Naiads far below; See in the sunlight yonder billows glow. _Tableau: "The Gazers." Music._ OCEANA _kneels on one knee_ R. _of_ POESIE, _pointing off_ R. POESIE _places her left hand on_ OCEANA'S _shoulder, leans forward, shades her eyes with right hand, and looks in the direction of pointed hand_. SHELLIE _comes_ L. _of_ POESIE, _a little behind her, and kneels quickly, holding a shell in her hand_. WAVA _kneels in front of all, with her finger to her lip, and her hand waving silence to_ PRIMEVA, _who stands_ L. AERIE _and her sprites form a standing group_, L., _back, and_ MAJESTA _and her sprites the same_, R., _back; all looking in the direction in which_ OCEANA _points. Music continues until the picture is complete, then_,— _Chorus; air, "Boating Song."_ Gayly, ye billows, among you we play; Take us up gently, and bear us away; Light on the surface of ocean we glide; Deep in her bosom we fearless abide. Roving at pleasure, joyous and free, Rocked in the arms of the murmuring sea. _Poesie_ (_starting up; others resume former positions_). Among thy happy scenes I long to roam; Bright Oceana, take me to thy home. _Primeva._ Thou shalt be free to roam field, mount, and sea, If thou but give thy gentle heart to me. These sisters three, my ministers of state, My edicts to enforce, obedient wait; And I, submissive to a heavenly will, With mighty powers its commands fulfil. I own no earthly rule, no rival fear; Beauty and grandeur at my voice appear; What title, Poesie, will you here bestow On one in whom such rare endowments glow? _Poesie._ Thy glorious visions wrap me in amaze; Speech were too poor, in eloquence of praise, To frame a title that would fitly stand To mark a power so wonderful and grand. What title can I give? I pray thee tell. _Primeva._ The empress of the world would suit me well.