No. 1: Opening Chorus and Ballad

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SCENE: Marketplace of Elsinore. The townspeople (led by Mats Munck, the SYNDIC) are assembled to congratulate ERLING SYKKE on the completion of the statue of the Prince Regent of Denmark, which occupies the centre of the stage. Colours flying, bells ringing, cannons firing, and general symptoms of rejoicing.

OPENING CHORUS.

Set the merry bunting flying, Fire the cannon — ring the bells — Our great townsman glorifying, Who with sculptor’s skill undying, All competitors excels. He, with his artistic spells, So the stubborn marble quells, That, to all intents elastic, It assumes, in manner plastic, Shapes heroic — shapes fantastic, As his mighty will compels!

SYNDIC.

Chosen from his fellow creatures By our King — ’twas wisely done — To perpetuate the features Of the Regent Prince, his son — Then created, by a penmark, At our gracious King’s decree, Sculptor to the Court of Denmark And the Royal Familee!

ALL.

Sculptor to the Court of Denmark And the Royal Familee! Leisure take — festina lentè — You have time before you, plenty, When at only two-and-twenty, (Nemine dissentientè) You’re created with a penmark Sculptor to the Court of Denmark — Sculptor to the Court of Denmark And the Royal Familee!

RECITATIVE. — ERLING.

Most worthy Syndic and all friends assembled, I thank you for your kind and cordial greeting — But when you sing my praises, oh remember, How many worthier brethren pine and perish For lack of that sunbeam of Royal favour, Which by sheer April chance, had fallen on me And warmed by budding powers into blossom!

CHORUS.

No, no! No April chance is here — Thine art hath no compeer — It triumphs all completely: And, sooth to say, ’twere well If Royal sunbeams always fell So wisely, so discreetly! So scatter flowers at his feet, Sing him songs of jubilation, And the king of sculptors greet With a rosy coronation! (Crowning him with flowers.)

MEN.

Raise him on our brawny shoulders Cynosure of all beholders. (They do so.)

WOMEN.

Hail him, scholar — hail him, gownsman — As your worthiest fellow townsman!

ALL.

Hail him, dunce and ignoramus, For his fame will make you famous — Hail him great and small, Hail him one, and hail him all!

They carry him round stage, then place him on his feet; then exeunt all except ERLING and CHRISTINA, who is discovered at the foot of the pedestal.

RECITATIVE. — ERLING.

My pretty one, why silent and alone? Why sit you thus in pensive meditation? Has melancholy marked you for her own, Or sad disaster checked your heart elation? I pray you reply!

RECITATIVE. — CHRISTINA.

Good sir, although I sit apart all day, I am no prey to grief or sad disaster. Truth is, I cannot tear myself away From this fair form — thy work, oh, mighty master! I’ll tell you why!

BALLAD. — CHRISTINA.

I see with a silent awe, In this faultless form allied The exquisite grace Of a royal race, And the glory of knightly pride: No blemish, or fault, or flaw, But perfect in all is he, I’ve learnt, in fine, What a god divine A chivalrous knight may be. As gentle as lover’s lay, Or the dawn of a bright May-day, Yet cast in the knightly mould Of the glorious days of old — My eyes are opened; at last I see What he who would win my heart must be. Why look at the men we’ve known — Their mouths will open and close — They’ve ears likewise, And a couple of eyes, And the usual nubbly nose; Each has a head of his own, They’ve bodies, and legs, and feet — I’m bound to admit That in every whit The catalogue’s quite complete: — But where is the godlike grace That lights that marvellous face? Where is the brow serene? Where is the lordly mien? Ah, dullards and dolts are all I’ve known, Compared with that marvellous, matchless stone! Exit CHRISTINA.