From The Bride of Messina, and On the Use of the Chorus in Tragedy by Friedrich Schiller

Ever on the wing Is mortal joy;--with silence best we guard The fickle good;--but now, so near the goal Of all my cherished hopes, I dare to speak. To-morrow's sun shall see her mine! no power Of hell can make us twain! With timid stealth No longer will I creep at dusky eve, To taste the golden fruits of Cupid's tree, And snatch a fearful, fleeting bliss: to-day With bright to-morrow shall be one! So smooth As runs the limpid brook, or silvery sand That marks the flight of time, our lives shall flow In continuity of joy! Chorus (CAJETAN). Already Our hearts, my prince, with silent vows have blessed Thy happy love; and now from every tongue, For her--the royal, beauteous bride--should sound The glad acclaim; so tell what nook unseen, What deep umbrageous solitude, enshrines The charmer of thy heart? With magic spells Almost I deem she mocks our gaze, for oft In eager chase we scour each rustic path And forest dell; yet not a trace betrayed The lover's haunts, ne'er were the footsteps marked Of this mysterious fair.

Don Manuel Monologue from The Bride of Messina, and On the Use of the Chorus in Tragedy

Rehearse Don Manuel's monologue