The Tempest

(singing)

 Come onto these yellow sands,

 And we’ll join hands,

 When you’ve curtsied and kissed

 The waves into silence.

 Prance lightly here and there,

 And the sweet spirits bear

 The burden. Listen, listen!

(refrain of the song is heard offstage, from different places, not in unison) Bow-wow.

The watchdogs bark.

(offstage) Bow-wow.

Listen, listen! I hear

The tune of the strutting rooster

Who cries cock-a-doodle-doo.

Where’s that music coming from? From the earth, or the air? It’s stopped now—it must be played for some local god of the island. As I sat on the shore crying over my father’s shipwreck, I heard the music creep over the wild waves, calming their fury and soothing my own grief with its sweet melodies. I followed it here, or I should say it dragged me here. But now it’s stopped. No, there it is again.