id_,
For he is noble, brave, and passing kind.
But, Rosalinde, when 'mid my father's vines,
A child I roamed, I shunned the rich, ripe fruit
Within my reach, and stretched my little arm
Beyond its strength, for that which farthest hung,
Though poorest too perchance. Years past away,
The wilful child is grown a woman now,
Yet wilful still, and wayward as the child.

(_She Sings._)

Though you wreathe in my raven hair jewels the rarest
That ever illumined the brow of a queen,
I should think the least one that were wanting, the fairest,
And pout at their lustre in petulant spleen.
Tho' the diamond should lighten there, regal in splendor,
The topaz its sunny glow shed o'er the curl,
And the emerald's ray tremble, timid and tender--
If the pearl were not by, I should sigh for the pearl!

Though you fling at my feet all the loveliest flowers
That Summer is waking in forest and field,
I should pine 'mid the bloom you had brought from her bowers
For some little blossom spring only could yield.
Take the rose, with its passionate beauty and bloom,
The lily so pure, and the tulip so bright--
Since I miss the sweet _violet's_ lowly perfume,
The violet _only_ my soul can delight!

I prize not Henri--for a breath, a nod,
Can make him mine for ever. _One_ I prize
Whose pulse ne'er quickened at my step or voice,
Who cares no more for smile from Victorine,
Whom princes sue--than Victorine for them.
But he _shall_ love me--ay, and when he too
Lies pleading at my feet!--I make no doubt
But I shall weary of mine idle whim,
And rate him well for daring to be there!

ROS.--Please you, my lady, who is this new victim?

VIC.--Whom think you, Rosalinde? Eugene Legard! the brave young
captain--lover of Carille--betrothed to her--about to marry her!

ROS.--But who's Carille, my lady?

VIC.--(_Impatiently_.) Now know you not the youthful village belle whose
face my gallant cousin raves about? I would he'd wed the girl, and leave
Legard and me _as free_, to wed! (_Enter the Count._) What, torment!
here again! (_Exit Rosalinde._)

COUNT HENRI.--Where should I be, sweet coz? I love the sunshine!

VIC.--So love you not this room--for here the sun ne'er shines.

COUNT.--The sun--_my_ sun is smiling on me now!

VIC.--Oh, don't! I'm so tired of all that!

COUNT.--Lady, it shall not weary you again; I've borne your light
caprice too long already. For the last time I come to ask of you, madam,
Is it your pleasure we