form, into two nearly equal parts. The dividins point is reached in 51, wlierc also the ilranmtic entan};lement readies its climax. Up till then the king is tlie suitor for the maidens love, and in 61 the course of development leads to the point where every- thin" apiiears to point to the certain consummation of the marriage Imnd in the coming night.* From the very first encounter (IK-S') the king, as intended by the poet, goes away with the impression that the fair maiden longs wilh intense passion for union with him ; he does not notice that the out- bursts of passionate Ion jing called forth by his words are meant not for him, but for another whom she loves. The reader or the spectator of the play can have no doubt on tins point, for already in I''-* (cf. especially v.8) it comes out clearly enough how the heart of the maiden is engaged, and tlie Second Act (98-35) confirms this in the strongest way by tlie two dream visions. The Third Act (36-5') corresponds to the first of the fesUl proceedings on the day (evening) before the bridal night. Tlie kiiv proceeds, in his wedding attire, surrounded by his truslv nun, and amidst greetings from the women, to the house where the lovelv maiden is detained. This answers to the joyous proces,-.ion in state by the bridegroom and bis friends to the place where the feast was celebrated, on tlie occasion of weddings amongst the common people. The equally pompous conducting of the bride in the evening to the same place and to the performance of the sword dance, wliich characterized popular weddings, is wanting here ; nor 18 this surprising, since the bride is already in a place where she belon'^s to the king. We may probably assume also that a king's" marriage was not celebrated in exactly the same way as tiiat oi one of the common people. The sword dance and other poriular customs may have been wholly absent.) Of course this does not prevent the poet from introducing into his description certain features borrowed from these customs, simplv because these were calculated to introduce movement into the material. Thus he makes the king draw near m all his splendour, with his sixty heroes and friends, and (5i) eien go in to the festive meal exactlv after the fashion of popular wedding festivities.: On the other h.and, the enticing sensu.ally flattering words of the king in 41ff- convey the impression, since, as we have said, we can hardly think of the sword dance, that they are the transition link to the bridal night with its mj-steries. The same inference is supported by the context, as far as the contents of 4'6-5i are concerned ; from the Shiilam- mite's reply in 4i6b to bus longing desire to enjoy the fruits of the garden that is supposed to belong to him, the king has concluded that she waits for him in order to accord hiin the enjovmcnt of her love (whereas she is thinking of her true beloved), and in this, of course, mistaken assurance he calls his friends to give themselves up to the joys of the marriage festival. At this point the king disappears. This is not speciallv noted, indeed, but it was unnecessary that it should be, on a correct understanding of the story of the poem, and with an actual dramatical presentation of it. As in the story of Habbas and Hamda related by Wetzstein, the fortune of the maiden turns at the last moment, just when the final consum- mation of the marriage union with the unloved one was imminent. The king has learned in the night shrouded with mv-.tery that she does not belong and cannot belong to him, and he'is magnanimous enough not to claim what only violence could procure, lie has set her tree, as All did with Hamda. and the next section (:.-<;•') of the Fourth Act conducts us slowly awai- from the lung's domain. The poet retains the scheme of the wedding celebration, but now we have to do with the celebration of the marriage of the Shulamniite with the object of her heart's affections. Between 5' and 52, properly speakinp, there intervenes a space of time, which, to be sure, required in the dramatical construction of the poem no further indication than the p.assing from one scene to another. In what will be conceded to be an extremely skilful manner the poet moves on to the goal of his task, by placing us in a'^"'- at the same stage in the celebration of the marriaije of the Shulamniite with her lover as we had reached in 3^5^ in connexion with the abortive attempt of Solomon. The passage &'i-&'', rightly understood, foniis the introduction to the principal part of this Act, which reaches its climax in S^- '. We hear in it the outpouring of the burning longing of the Shulamniite for union with him whom she loves. The women, ' the daughters of Jenisalem,' by whom she is surrounded, are called on by her to assist her search for the beloved of her soul, who is portrayed in glowing colours. In this wav a perfect movement is given to the action, which is conceived of after the mo<lel of a marriage celebration.
For the correct understanding of the further context it is necessary, above all, to take C > rightly. In 6» there is an allusion,' e.xpre.ssed in a beautiful figure, to part of the festal pro<-edure of the marriage evening having already taken place. The beloved has alreadv gone down to enjoy the fruits of his garden (a plain allusion' to 4i«), i.e. he has already gone to the place of the festival, and is present there with his escort. The