Against the ponderous avalanche of guilt
That hangs above me! O me miserable!
I’ll grope my way yet further.
Chorus of Ignes Fatui.
Firmilian! Firmilian!
What have you done to Lilian?
There a cry from the grotto, a sob by the stream,
A woman’s loud wailing, a little babe’s scream!
How fared it with Lilian,
In the pavilion,