Whose spreading branches shade her chamber walls;
So do not I; for when 'tis dark o'nights
Goblins howl there, and ghosts rise thro' the ground.
I hear them many a time when I'm a bed,
And hide beneath the cloaths my cow'ring head,
O! is it not a frightful thing, my lord,
To sleep alone i' the dark?
Bas. Poor harmless child! thy prate is wondrous sweet.
Enter a group of Masks.
1st Mask. What dost thou here, thou little truant boy?
Come play thy part with us.
Masks place Mirando in the middle, and range themselves round him.
SONG,— A GLEE.
Child, with many a childish wile,
Timid look, and blushing smile,
Downy wings to steal thy way,
Gilded bow, and quiver gay,
Who in thy simple mien would trace
The tyrant of the human race?
Who is he whose flinty heart
Hath not felt thy flying dart?
Who is he that from the wound
Hath not pain and pleasure found?
Who is he that hath not shed
Curse and blessing on thy head?
