Men and Women (dressed as Moors).

       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbspFIRST MOORISH WOMAN.

When blooms the spring of life,
       &nbsp The golden harvest reap.
Waste not your years in bootless strife,
       &nbsp Till age upon your bodies creep.
But now, when shines the kindly light,
Give up your soul to love's delight.

No touch of sweetest joy
       &nbsp This longing heart can know,
No bliss without alloy
       &nbsp When love does silent show.

Then up, ye lads and lasses gay!
       &nbsp The spring of life is fair;
       &nbsp Cloud not these hours with care,
For love must win the day.

Beauty fades,
       &nbsp Years roll by,
Lowering shades
       &nbsp Obscure the sky.
And joys so sweet of yore
Shall charm us then no more.
Then up, ye lads and lasses gay!
       &nbsp The spring of life is fair;
       &nbsp Cloud not these hours with care,
For love must win the day.

       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbspFirst Entry of the Ballet.

       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp2ND MOORISH WOMAN.

They bid us love, they bid us woo,
       &nbsp Why seek delay?
To tender sighs and kisses too
       &nbsp In youth's fair day,
Our hearts are but too true.

The sweetest charms has Cupid's spell.
       &nbsp No sooner felt, the ready heart
His conquered self would yield him well
       &nbsp Ere yet the god had winged his dart.
But yet the tale we often hear
       &nbsp Of tears and sorrows keen,
       &nbsp To share in them, I ween,
Though sweet, would make us fear!

       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp3RD MOORISH WOMAN.
To love a lover true,
       &nbsp In youth's kind day, I trow,
       &nbsp Is pleasant task enow;
But think how we must rue
       &nbsp If he inconstant show!

       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp4TH MOORISH WOMAN.

The loss of lover false to me
But trifling grief would be,
Yet this is far the keenest smart
That he had stol'n away our heart.

       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp2ND MOORISH WOMAN.

What then shall we do
Whose hearts are so young?

       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp4TH MOORISH WOMAN.

Though cruel his laws,
Attended by woes,
Away with your arms,
Submit to his charms!

       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbspTOGETHER.
His whims ye must follow,
       &nbsp His transports though fleet,
       &nbsp His pinings too sweet
Though often comes sorrow,
The thousand delights
       &nbsp The wounds of his darts
       &nbsp       &nbsp Still charm all the hearts.