Alas! My boding heart,—I dread the worst. Oh, careless nymphs! oh, heedless Proserpine! And did you leave her wandering by herself? She is immortal,—yet unusual fear Runs through my veins. Let all the woods be sought, Let every dryad, every gamesome faun (9) Tell where they last beheld her snowy feet Tread the soft, mossy paths of the wild wood. But that I see the base of Etna firm I well might fear that she had fallen a prey To Earth-born Typheus, who might have arisen And seized her as the fairest child of heaven, That in his dreary caverns she lies bound; It is not so: all is as safe and calm As when I left my child. Oh, fatal day! Eunoe does not return: in vain she seeks Through the black woods and down the darksome glades, And night is hiding all things from our view. I will away, and on the highest top Of snowy Etna, kindle two clear flames. Night shall not hide her from my anxious search, No moment will I rest, or sleep, or pause Till she returns, until I clasp again My only loved one, my lost Proserpine.

Ceres Monologue from Proserpine and Midas

Rehearse Ceres's monologue