Aur. 'Tis true he says; the footsteps yet are fresh
Upon the sod, no falling dew-drops have
Disturbed the print. [All are going to follow Grimbald.
Philidel sings. Hither this way.
Chor. of Phil. Spir. Hither this way, this way bend.
Chor. of Grimb. Spir. This way, this way bend.
Philidel's Spirits. Trust not that malicious fiend.
Grimb. Spirits. Trust me, I am no malicious fiend.
Philidel's Spirits. Hither this way, &c. [They all incline to Philidel.
Grim. Curse on her voice! I must my prey forego;—