ice of the red rose, which he still carries in his hand. After a
long resistance he abandons himself to despair and throws the rose into
the blaze, thinking himself forsaken by Urvasi. But hardly has he done
so, than Urvasi's form rises from the flame, solemnly reminding him of
the oath which he has broken. She has only been testing his firmness
and finding him weak, she is obliged to disappear forever as Urvasi and
to live in another form, while only deepest contrition and ardent love
can ever help him to find her again. Urvasi vanishes, and the King
leaves Ausinari, his throne, and his land, to seek as a poor pilgrim
for his beloved.

In the last act we find Urvasi's friend, the Apsare Tschitralekha,
watering a rose-bush, into which her Princess has been transformed.

The King enters in the garb of an Indian {341} penitent. His strength
is nearly exhausted, he has sought his bride all over the earth, and he
now demands her from the spirit of the rock and from that of the
cataract, but all tell him, that she is only to find where glowing life
grows. Tired to death, he draws his sword to end his life, when
Tschitralekha laying her hand on his arm, points out the rose-bush.
The King kisses it, and falling on his knee beside the virgin who joins
in his devotions, fervently prays to Indra, that at last his love may
be given to him again. Slowly Urvasi rises from the rose-bush. A long
and exalted love-duet follows, then the Indian heaven opens and the
King dies at Urvasi's feet, struck by a ray from the celestial sun.

THE VAMPIRE.

Romantic Opera in two acts by HEINRICH MARSCHNER.

Text by W. A. WOHLBRUeCK.

This opera had long fallen into oblivion, when Hofrath Schuch of
Dresden was struck with the happy idea of resuscitating it. And indeed
its music well deserves to be heard. It is both beautiful and
characteristic and particularly the drinking-scenes in the second act,
the soft and graceful airs sung by Emma and Edgar Aubry belong to the
best of Marschner's work. He is, it is true, not quite original and
often reminds one of Weber, but that cannot well be called a fault,
almost every genius having greater prototype. This opera was so long
neglected on account of its libretto, the {342} subject of which is not
only unusual, but far too romantic and ghastly for modern taste. It is
taken from Lord Byron's tale of the same name and written by
Marschner's own brother-in-law. The scene is laid in S