Will you sit down and warm you by the sods?
CATHLEEN.
We must find out this castle in the wood
Before the chill o’ the night.
[The musicians begin to tune their instruments.
Do not blame me,
Good woman, for the tympan and the harp:
I was bid fly the terror of the times
And wrap me round with music and sweet song
Or else pine to my grave. I have lost my way;