Solemn and stern, with their shirt fronts studded, and swallow-tailed garments,
Stand like Druids of old, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms,
Loud from its ligneous caverns, the deep-voiced neighbouring organ
Moans, and in accents disconsolate answers the orchestra wailing.
This is the music primeval, and when it is ended, Herr Wagner
Is called to the front, and is crowned with a wreath by the Madame Materna;
Then there is hugging and kissing and weeping with Wagner Wilhelmj,
And Richter, to whom is presented a bâton—brand new, silver-mounted;
But where are the beautiful maidens who solemnly sat in the boxes?