The startled boy, with anxious restless eye,
Gazed on each one by turns mysteriously;
His quiv’ring lip gave signal of distress,
And seem’d to ask, “My mother, what is this?”
She who had wrought the spell was troubled too,
To see what one foreboding song could do;
O, was there need to feel her music so?
Was this the presage of a coming wo?
She play’d again a lively interlude,
And sang once more a song of merrier mood;