He was an Asa, well they knew, but knew not his bad heart.
“How now? friend Lok! what dost thou here i th’ forest? art thou sprung
From th’ branches of the tree, to dance our mirthful choir among?”
“Yes! my dear little creatures! Lok, ye know, doth love ye all;
Eager to teach ye novel sports, he comes to join your ball.”
He join’d the dance; a circle now the Alfs around him trace,
But Lok’s tail made a rustling noise, like serpent in the grass:
Sudden the fountain ceased to flow; the once transparent brook
Troubled and dark became, while toads in stagnant marshes croak;
A swarm of crickets hover round a corpse with deaf’ning cry: